Sickness - XatuGrim (Salline) - Minecraft (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own] (2024)

Chapter 1: It's okay

Chapter Text

Tommy knew where he was, at least in the back of his mind he did. He wanted to just continue lying there, give it enough time and he’d feel alright enough to move… right?
It didn’t feel hot or cold like it had a moment ago, ice slipping beneath treaded shoes, a worried shout from somewhere to the left. He supposed he could feel water now in a slight drip, drip, drip, from somewhere above him. He could still hear the distant shouting from somewhere far far away, the echo bouncing off the slick walls of collapsed stone and snapped metal. He could deal with that when he woke up, because he would have to do that at some point, but for now he just wanted to rest. He just wanted to relax onto the icy cold rocks below him and shift so the stones were no longer digging into his newly blooming bruises.

The cold was beginning to creep back, and while his brain comprehended the freezing temperatures, his body didn’t seem to care.

His eyes fluttered. Ice had begun to form on his wet lashes, not quite freezing them together, but making them solid enough that their new smallest amount of weight made him want to keep his eyes closed.

He could just stay here, lying on his bruising back until someone came down to get him. He knew they would, it was just a matter of how long it would take for them to navigate the collapsed building.

He shifted slightly at that, forcing his hands to slide against the broken rock beneath him. His eyes fluttered again, cold air hitting them like the kiss of a moth’s wings. He really should get up.

His hero’s gas mask still hung tightly to his face, having refused to move even in the sharp fall to the building's hidden basem*nt.

That’s where they were, after the fight in the bottom floor of the building, the concrete of the old structure had given out. He had slipped and fell through the basem*nt until he hit the bottom.

He shifted again, an involuntary gasp shuddering from his lungs. A numb pain blossomed on his back where he could feel the bruises beginning to heal themselves.

Would anyone else need help?

He shifted again, rolling to his side and a grunt sounded across the collapsed room from him.

Right. He hadn’t been the only one to fall through the collapsing floor.

Shifting an elbow beneath him he surveyed what he could see. His goggles must have come off in the fall given their absence and Tommy cringed at the thought that he would be scolded for losing yet another pair of the fancy things only a week after his last ones were replaced.

He needed to fix himself more, the memories from what had happened not even a few minutes ago dancing through his head.

It was dark, though from somewhere above them moonlight flickered from the ceiling and into the freezing puddles below, giving the boy just enough light to see he wouldn’t be making it out of here without some help. He took in a deep breath, closing his eyes. His head was starting to pound, and he knew for a fact he wouldn’t be in the position to heal anyone fully from the battle, not in the position he was in.

A groan cut through the chilled air, the sound of shifting following.

He needed to move, he was not in the position right now for any kind of recovery from that fall, because it wasn’t an ally that had fallen down here with him.

Grunts escaped the boy’s mouth as he shifted himself up onto his elbows. He bit down on his lip, letting his eyes drift over his surroundings. He wasn’t about to risk alerting the enemy to where he was, especially when he was in no position to fight and by far in no position to win a fight.

Concrete scraped as he pushed his legs under him, a wave of lightheadedness coming over him from the movement.

His mind was beginning to come back to him, and he realized all too late that the voices that had been coming closer for the past few minutes were suddenly receding. His teeth ground against each other as he fought back a whimper. Ok, one of his legs had definitely been broken. It now was just finishing knitting itself back together, more slowly than the boy would have liked. That meant that his body had overextended itself in the effort to heal some of his worst wounds from the fall.

That must have been the good news. A soreness beyond anything he had ever felt before shifted through his body with every shivering moment, and he let out a gasp, air fogging around him in the crisp night air.

Another groan sounded from their small collapsed chamber. He was waking up, the Siren was beginning to wake up. Tommy slid his hands up a slick slab of concrete to his side and he gripped the top with burning hands.

“Dream--” The voice came out as a breath, a plea for his friend to hear him. Another wave of pain swept over his body.

With the help of the concrete, he was able to lift himself to his feet. Everything was suddenly coming back to him, the cold, the pain, the cotton in his mind, all he could think was that he needed to move.

One look over the broken slab of concrete told him exactly where the other was.

He froze at the sight before him, just a single glance enough to paralyze him in a kind of hesitance. Seeing the villain across the room from him in that moment gave him the same feeling as when you wake up in the middle of the night to see a dark figure in the corner or your room and freezing before you realize that it’s just a pile of dirty laundry stacked on a chair.

The other man shifted, and Tommy looked away immediately because he wasn’t wearing his mask. Siren, the Siren was just there, lying on the collapsed floor without his mask.

Tommy took a deep breath, refusing to look over again. Seeing anyone without their mask felt low. He had no right to see their face, even given his position. It was an honor code, everyone kept to it: heroes, vigilantes, villains…

A sharp breath echoed throughout the small space, and Tommy sat unmoving from his side of the alcove, thinking all the possibilities through. He could call Dream, that was the most logical answer. Siren was too wounded to even fight, and so was Tommy, with Dream here they could escape before anything drastic happened, go recover, and let Siren’s teammates find him so they could be off to fight and subdue them another day.

There was no way they would be bringing in Siren in their states, Tommy had barely healed himself, and he knew for a fact that Dream probably looked the same as he did given that shot Tommy had seen the Angel give him earlier that night. The best place of action was to escape with their lives, and maybe then live to fight another day.

“Dad…?”

Tommy froze yet again, eyes refusing to move from the broken floor beneath him where he had been lying a moment before.

A whimper echoed throughout their small cavern and Tommy squeezed his eyes shut.

A shaky inhale reverberated through the room and it may as well have taken up a place in Tommy’s bones.

He was moving without thinking, eyes averted from his enemy as he dragged himself through the rocks and water to the man’s side.

He wasn’t thinking, he couldn’t have been, even as each of his moves felt like they had been calculated out for years.

Tommy fell to the floor, and a sharp intake of breath was all that he needed to hear to know the other man was conscious enough to know he was there. The boy slid to the man’s side so they would be facing each other if Tommy’s eyes were open and the Siren wasn’t lying flat on his back.

Siren moved, legs kicking against the broken stone beneath them. When he spoke again all previous weakness from the man disappeared, fear and desperation from his voice gone, replaced with stone cold hate. “Stay away from me--” He gasped, breath hitching in a way that caused Tommy to reach out. The villain had definitely just hurt himself, or pulled one of his injuries from the fall but his command lacked any hint of his power, giving Tommy the room to actually move against the man’s wishes.

His voice changer had vanished, Tommy noticed that usual electronic twinge to his voice was gone. Tommy didn’t know why that surprised him, maybe it was because the man’s voice sounded far more smooth, or the fact he had a slight rumble to his tone, or maybe, just maybe, Tommy was surprised because he just sounded so human now.

The boy held up his hands. He wasn’t about to be trusted by a man that he’d been fighting with for years, he knew that, but there was something about the smell of iron in the sharp cool air that told Tommy how close to death this man was.

Reaching up behind his head he heard the villain shift again. He wouldn’t let himself realize, wouldn’t even let himself acknowledge how much that tiniest sliver of weakness from Siren has affected him, not when it was just the two of them, broken and dying in the basem*nt of some abandoned falling apart building. Tommy knew this was weakness, he knew for a fact that if Dream were to ever find out about this he would hide Tommy away from the world, and he would make sure no one could find him ever again just to make sure he was safe from the villains outside world.

A slight click resonated throughout their space, and without thinking twice, Tommy removed his mask from his face, shoving the thing towards Siren as he still kept his eyes closed. A gasped “Put this on.” grated against Tommy’s raw throat, and he ignored the waver behind the words.

Willingly showing another hero or villain or vigilante what was under the mask was different than seeing it by accident, or without choice. Tommy had honor, he respected the rules of the heroes and villains, and he would respect them until the day he died, no matter how likely that was to be from another villain in their city.

Soft fingers brushed against Tommy’s and the mask slipped from his hands. A grunt was all the confirmation Tommy needed to open his eyes.

Siren sat there, propped up against a broken slab of concrete, one elbow under him, hand curled into a fist the other gripping Tommy’s gas mask against his face.

Their eyes met, and Tommy knew in that moment Siren was memorizing his features, the bastard, though his eyelashes were fluttering in a way that told Tommy the man was half out of it, barely comprehending what was happening in front of him.

Tommy expected that, while Tommy had been able to heal himself to a point, the only thing that was keeping Siren going now was pure adrenaline and maybe spite for death. The man took a shuddering breath and though Tommy wasn’t able to tell the full extent of the man’s injuries, something told him that he wouldn’t last the rest of the week without a little help right now.

Tommy’s hands slipped around Siren’s back, drawing the man flush against his chest.

“f*ck.” Siren whispered, though this time his voice was twinged with Tommy’s metallic voice changer. Tommy must have jostled something, but Siren had given no protest, letting himself be propped up against Tommy. The adrenaline must have been wearing off then, since he would let himself be taken so easily into an enemy’s arms.

“It’s okay.” Tommy whispered, hands pressing against the other man’s back, surely he too had bruises from their fall but no noise escaped his mouth. Siren’s own arms snaked around Tommy’s back, and the boy could feel their shake, despite how imperceptible it was.

Tommy took a deep breath, resting his head on the man’s shaking shoulder. It could have been an embrace between friends Tommy thought, with how tight they were holding each other, but the smell of blood and shock of pain hung heavy in the air. They couldn’t be friends, not the two of them, not down here, but the press of Siren’s hands into Tommy’s back said something different, a slight warmth seeping through the fabric of the man’s gloves and past Tommy’s suit.

With one last exhale Tommy forced his hands to heal. They had already taken a toll on his own wounds, so even as Tommy could feel the man’s skin stitching together beneath him, he felt his own energy draining. “You’ll be okay.” He said again, words too spaced out for him to know what he was really saying.

Tommy didn’t know why he couldn’t let Siren die here. It would have been a weight off of his shoulders, that's for sure, but in that slight moment, where he had gotten a glance at the man’s face, no matter how brief it had been, Tommy realized that Siren was just a person. He had a life outside of this, a father. And Tommy just wouldn’t--

Siren’s hands gripped the fabric of Tommy’s suit, his broken bones from the fall healing one by one. They felt like they were snapping back together, some cut in the villain’s side closing far too slowly.

After a few minutes of panted breathing and slowed heartbeats, Siren was the one supporting Tommy, making sure he didn’t fall face first forward into the broken cement below them.

Tommy’s breaths were shallow, and he let his eyes drift shut. He didn’t want to think about this, he didn’t want to think about how he had just thrown away his identity freely to a man who had promised to hunt him down and kill him slowly, he didn’t want to think about how he had healed the worst villain in all of L’manberg because he just looked and sounded so fragile, and he didn’t want to think about how he was going to explain anything about the fight to Dream, not after they fell and both nearly died together in the depths of a old broken building.

He didn’t want to think about anything, especially right now as he lay, open and so, so vulnerable in the arms of his enemy.

They sat there for what felt like too long a time, until Tommy’s hands stopped their healing and all he could do was breathe in, and out.

Even the breaths felt hard to do, the soreness of his body coming back in full force. He had pushed himself to his limits before, Dream had got mad at him then, forcing him to rest for a week in the medbay area of the hero’s underground base of operations, “Pogtopia.” It had been a long fight for several heroes, and Tommy had stretched himself thin, making sure each and every hero had recovered enough to be able to do their work the next day.

Dream had found Tommy slumped over some long gone patient’s bed. He laughed at Tommy about it the day he woke up, scolding him for overextending himself moments after, but Tommy could never forget Dream’s warm hold as the hero settled Tommy into his Pogtopia room, only a shout away from Dream himself moments after finding the boy exhausted and passed out in the medbay.

A grip on Tommy’s suit brought him back to the present, cold air clinging to his face and hair and hands even as they slipped from Siren’s back.

“Theseus?” the man was saying, tone edging on a desperate sort of twinge. Had Tommy passed out again? Clinging to this villain like he was his lifeline?

Words caught in the villain’s throat, he seemed frantic, voice trembling as he lightly shook Tommy.

Tommy didn’t have time for this. Well, that wasn’t true. He didn’t have the energy.

His words slurred together as they slipped from his throat, “You should go.” he stated, and though they were meant as a warning, they came out sounding more like a complaint than anything “I won’t have my work spoiled on someone that’s going to get caught.”

There was a pause in the villain’s panicked words and Tommy was rustled in just the slightest. His grip tightened on the villain’s shirt, and he squeezed his eyes shut with as much strength as he could, burying his face further into the man’s shoulder.

Somewhere in the back of his head Tommy registered voices, but he didn’t acknowledge them, he just wanted rest, he just wanted to forget everything that had just happened despite the lack of regret in his mind, each decision resolute.

The warmth of arms left Tommy’s back, but the boy found himself too tired to care. Something familiar slipped over his face, and there was the quietest of movement before the boy heard a muttered curse and a thud.

Silence consumed him, and Tommy let it as he drifted off into a well deserved sleep, even as the cold continued to gnaw at his bones, and all he could feel was relief at the thought that maybe, just maybe, he had saved a life that day, whether it would be worth it or not.

Chapter 2: Is regret really that strong of a word?

Chapter Text

How familiar this blank state of knowing felt.

The quiet beep of a heart monitor somewhere to his right, the textured feel of the cotton sheets beneath his fingers, the ever so warm feel of his hand wrapped in someone else's, their grip so tight you would have thought they expected Tommy to fall out of the world.

He knew this place, the lightest smell of sage, the room's temperature just a bit too cold, and the light sound of footsteps outside as people buisilly walked down the hallways, eager to get wherever they were going.

Tommy had worked here, in these rooms, for years before he was able to beg Dream into letting him out into the field like a “real hero.” He couldn’t forget dashed glares across the medbay room as Dream had gotten himself into some other life threatening situation just to end up in Tommy’s care, blood and organs threatening to put his life to a bitter, hateful end.

How could Tommy forget the smell of those rooms, the sounds, the feel. He himself had been brought to these rooms close to death after a close call with the Blade, or an injury that could have been his very end at the hands of Thunder.

There was a reason he had left here. This place was so close to death. Tommy had seen it, so had everyone else that had stepped foot inside these blank white hallways. He hated that feeling, being so close to death, only able to knit someone up just enough that they could at least say goodbye to their loved ones before passing out of the world in a blink of light.

Tommy could feel when a body lost its consciousness forever, when that sweet release of death brought the last sputtering breath out of pained lungs. He had only felt it a few times, hands strained, body too sore and tired to go for another minute, but the threat of death on someone he knew urged him on. It hadn’t always helped.

It was always with his hands on their person, a strain on Tommy’s own conscience, forever blaming weakness, on not training his power enough to save just one life.

He hated it here. That he could say for certain, even if the smell brought back so many good memories, of the feeling of lying in bed next to his barely alive mentor, offering up all the body heat he could to the man, and refusing to leave his side, promising that Dream would not leave this broken world without Tommy fighting till the last second to keep them together.

He had begged Dream, for years, to let him out into the field. He couldn’t count the arguments the two of them had over the subject, Dream brushing him off before sneaking into his room hours later with nothing but a promise that Tommy would never get hurt.

The calloused hands that then had brushed the boy’s hair from his sleeping face in a way so similar to a parent now were gripped hard around his hand, limp at his side on the cotton sheets.

Dream would have never let Tommy out, they both knew that. So the day Tommy had followed Dream and Sapnap on a mission was the day that changed them. Dream had yelled at him after, and Tommy had yelled back. Their fight felt like it lasted for hours, the two of them in the closed library that Tommy worked at during the daytime. He was surprised that a library could sound so loud at that moment.

But Tommy was right, he knew that for a fact. Sapnap would have been dead if Tommy hadn’t snuck around for that mission. He knew they were facing up against the Blade that night and had followed along, knowing the anger that’d be directed towards him by Dream when the man realized he was there.

Tommy didn’t regret it, not even after his and Dream’s screaming match in the library, because he knew he was right, and on some level, Dream knew too.

He slept in the library that night, in the back workroom. He could remember the soreness of his body the morning after both from healing the death out of Sapnap and from sleeping with his arms folded underneath him on the worktable like he was a student who had fallen asleep in the back of class.

Even then he could say he didn’t regret doing what he did.

Him and Dream had argued that night at work, and the night after, over and over. Tommy still followed them out, and finally when Dream realized there was no stopping Tommy from coming along with them the two had a sit down. Dream gave Tommy all the warnings, all the rules, all of his own commands, everything, making Tommy promise him with a tight grip on his arm that he would leave if the situation got too dangerous for the boy. Tommy had nodded then, running a hand through his long hair and promising Dream that he would stay alive even if it was just for him.

He was important, Dream said, Pogtopia needed him far more alive and able to heal than out in the field and half dying.

He proved himself, no matter how long it took for him to learn, he had. He proved more useful in the field with fresh wounds than back in the medbay with already infected ones, half filled with dirt and gravel, if not the occasional poison.

It was better that way. They had both an experienced fighter and medical help out in battles where they would need it most.

Dream had taught him everything he knew, from his sword fighting skills to his hand to hand combat. Dodging was easy, Tommy learned that in a breeze, counterblocks? Give Tommy a break, it might as well have been preschool with those.

There was no way Pogtopia was taking him out of the field now, not with his skills and use out there. With his rise in fights Tommy was becoming extremely popular with the media, no one would let him sit bored and out of the broadcasted action in the medbay for a long time, no matter how much the public’s beloved Dream asked for it.

Tommy’s mind shifted back to the present at the thought of his mentor, and he gripped the hand holding his back, the warmth tightening at the slightest movement from the boy. Tommy shifted his eyes open, taking in the room around him.

Well, there wasn’t much to take in past the cotton sheets, the IV pushed against the wall, the heart monitor. The room was small, just one medical bed, a few chairs, a singular desk, a few cabinets and a sink. Everything was so plain and white, splashes of light green every once and a while, they had to add some color in there didn’t they?

Dream, the one and only sat there, just as he always did when Tommy overextended himself, no matter how often that was. Tommy’s eyes flickered to the man’s torso, where he had watched his mentor get shot by the Angel in the fight prior. He caught sight of bandages peeking just above his hoodie collar, and that was at least something to put Tommy at ease knowing that at least Dream had gotten treated, or really, allowed himself to get treated as Tommy sat unconscious in the room.

Tommy let out a little chuckle, the movement straining on the soreness of his stomach. He closed his eyes yet again, ready to drift back into its deep sleep. Sure his body would heal fast from this, but he knew that the more sleep he had the faster he would be able to leave this impossibly clean room and cold.

“Go away you creep,” He heard himself say, though the words lacked any push that Tommy had meant to put into them, “Get some rest or neither of us will be allowed out any time soon.”

There was a slight laugh from Dream himself, but the man didn’t make to stand or leave.

It was a few moments of silence before Dream spoke, and Tommy knew what was coming then. His voice was strained as he spoke, and Tommy didn’t need to open his eyes to know the look on the man’s face, “Headquarters wants a debrief as soon as possible.” The man stated, though Tommy knew he wasn’t happy about their order.

They didn’t have time to let their heroes rest, they needed their information as soon as possible in order to properly evaluate the villains. It was simple really: everything any of the heroes knew about the villains was immediately conveyed to the lab across the city from them for the workers there to go over a possible link in the villain’s current actions with their previous ones. Really it was a whole big thing to try and figure out where they thought the villains would strike next. It wasn’t Tommy’s job, and Tommy was glad for that. He couldn’t even think about how hard all that was, with the pulling out of old files, to speak with Pathologists about recently deceased celebrities or people of some kind of importance by villain hands, it must have been a hard job, one Tommy never wanted to handle.

They were right, some of the time at least, and that’s why the headquarters kept the Lab around. There had been a decent amount of crimes that had been prevented with the use of the lab, lots of crimes from Thunder and his gang, some from Quackiy, the bastard, and very few crimes from the Arctic group.

Tommy hated that last part. He mostly dealt with the Arctic, he had given the Lab so many details of all of their fights. Weeks after weeks had gone by with constant debriefing on the Arctic, and yet after he sent in his forms, pages upon pages of description attached to the back only for him to be sent away, and told weeks later the information he had given them hadn’t helped with anything he still felt like he wasn’t doing his best, that he could be doing more, though he wasn’t sure what.

They were sneaky, the Arctic. They were a group of three usually individual villains who were seen together just enough for the media to grant them the name “Arctic.” The reason behind the name was brutal, Tommy had to take a breath every time he thought of it.

It was a warranted name.

Tommy could still see the aftermath of the scene, having come just too late to save anyone, but soon enough to see the destruction. It was wintertime, the year Tommy turned fourteen, just late enough into the year that his fifteenth birthday was just around the corner. He couldn’t remember exactly where it had happened, and he refused to look it up, not wanting to even think of the memory of blood staining the snow so red you would have thought it had fallen that way. Bodies laying scattered or in piles, across the snow, their positions looking more like an abstract painting than a graveyard from above.

Tommy could still smell the iron from the blood, even with the slightest memory of the scene. Even the sky looked red from where Tommy stood, looking out against a graveyard of the fallen.

Dream had sent him back to Pogtopia before they even began to check the bodies.

“I don’t want you to see this.” Dream had stated then, urging Tommy towards Sapnap’s car, sounding as numb as Tommy felt in that moment, “You shouldn’t have to see this.” Tommy just remembers on the drive away how Sapnap had passed one of the fallen, their eyes gouged out and teeth gone, their body nothing more than muscle and bone. If there was one thing Tommy thought would stick with him until Death, it would be that.

Dream had been right of course, Tommy wished every day that he hadn’t seen the battlefield, if not to clear his mind of the broken bodies scattered throughout the pathways, then to clear his mind from the fear that crept through him during every encounter with the Blade.

It had all been the Blade’s work of course, everyone knew that. Siren’s only power was his voice, once he used it to tell someone what to do, they had no choice but to do it. The Angel was more of an observer than anything else, fighting only when necessary or when he saw fit. He sat on rooftops or flew high above battles with wings like a raven’s to convey just what was happening and what to do next to his partners. The blade however was a monster, Tommy remembers more than one occasion where he was trapped beneath the man’s sword as Blade pushed it down further and further, just waiting for Tommy’s moment of weakness for his sword to cut right through the boy’s neck.

Tommy felt the scars on his fingers now. They sat at the base of his fingers and went down from there in thick white lines across his palms where he had stopped the Blade from taking his, and sometimes Dream’s life.

Tommy groaned at that, bringing both of his hands up to his face, slipping his fingers from Dream’s grasp. “Now?” He questioned, rubbing tired his eyes with those scarred palms. “It couldn’t wait until I got better?”

Tommy knew the answer, but Dream still shook his head, setting his elbows on the bed at Tommy’s side, hands clasped in front of him. “They never do, do they?” Tommy stretched for a moment, once again going to meet Dream’s soft green eyes.

Guilt flashed in his mind at that moment, the green eyes bringing him back to last night when he had dragged himself across the slick concrete ground, brain barely registering the cold as he hoisted Siren’s limp body against his own, promising the man that he would be okay. He didn’t want to think about that, didn’t even want to acknowledge to himself that that had happened at all. The thought made him want to burrow deep under his cotton sheets no never see those dark eyes of his enemy again, or hear the strained voice as the man, his nemesis called out for his family in a single moment of pain and desperation.

Tommy refused to acknowledge how much that had pulled at his very being, how that had been him at some point or another under the missions of headquarters as he lay dead or half dying just waiting for anyone, for Dream to find him.

His eyes never left Dreams, even through the memories of the night before. Dream was smart, any wrong movement from Tommy and he would know something was up, that something had happened in that collapsed basem*nt that caused Tommy to shudder, to think twice about his actions. Tommy didn’t want to remember the happenings of that night as much as he hadn’t wanted to remember doing what he did in the moment he was doing it. He just shut the memory away, burying it deep in his skull, a place he wouldn’t need to deal with until the day he died.

“I’m gonna be honest, Dream,” The boy began, laying himself deeper into the mattress below him. A hint of a smile edged on his lips, and the slightest laugh escaped him. “I hit my head so hard once I reached the bottom of that building I got knocked out immediately.”

To be fair, the fall had knocked him out, the best lies were built in truth. “I probably would have woken up if my body didn’t need to heal so much.” Tommy let out a slight sigh at that, consciously listening to the steady heartbeat on the heart monitor to his right. Powers were unsteady as it was, Tommy didn’t blame them for putting him on one, especially with how much value they saw in his power, but the monitor only made this harder for him. “They wouldn’t know anything more from my point of view than what I’m sure you’ve already told them.”

He knew that was not true, he knew it. Just immagine what the Lab or HQ could do with the knowledge that Tommy had seen Siren’s face, no matter how brief it had been. They would interrogate the hell out of him, and he knew no matter what he said, he would be the only link they had to finding out just who Siren was and he would be locked in the Lab until the man was found.

They could purge him from the streets, throw him all the way out in Pandora’s Vault wherever that was in the ocean.

He knew what Tommy looked like, Tommy knew that. He knew the villain was probably searching through L’manberg’s databases for every blonde haired blue eyed boy just to track him down. He had been a pain in their asses, he knew that, and he wouldn’t be surprised if on the way home one day they decided to jump him in the middle of the street and end him then and there while he sat defenseless. He had been a menace to them, and while he wasn’t sure if he had stopped any of their plans from going through, what was one more body to them?

Tommy let out a sharp exhale, biting his upper lip. “Did you find out anything from the Angel after the floor collapsed?” He asked, begging for the life of him that Dream wouldn’t ask any further questions about what happened after the floor collapsed beneath both him and the villain.

Dream shook his head, a confirmed “no” then. His eyes flicked to the plain white clock that hung above the room’s door, its silent ticking resonation throughout the small room. “I wasn’t really expecting to either.” He started, leaning himself back on the hospital chair. “Sapnap ended up leading Blade off with the help of George, and once the floor collapsed beneath you and Siren, both Angel and I split off from each other and went our separate ways, I assume Angel found you both before I did because when I got down to you, Siren was gone, and so was Angel.”

Tommy nodded, following Dream’s eyes to the clock. It was two am, of course it was. A laugh brought Tommy’s eyes back to the man, a frown pulling at his own features. “You were out for a while there, just over twenty four hours now, you must have really busted yourself up in that fall for your body to keep you asleep for that long.”

The two sat in silence for a moment at that, a smile creeping across Tommy’s features. It was true, really, Tommy probably couldn’t list the number of times he had gotten himself into a situation like this on his fingers, much less could he remember all of them. Healing when in large bursts caused him fatigue, his body would put him to sleep as he regained enough energy to move around again, and after healing both himself and Siren from that fall… Tommy was more surprised that he wasn’t knocked out for longer.

A minute more of silence passed, the two of them listening in the quiet to the shuffle of hurried feet in the outside hallway and the light ticking of the clock. Tommy didn’t trust himself to speak up again, not after he didn’t answer Dream’s underlying question of “How much did you get hurt from that fall?” Dream probably thought that Siren was going to be out of it for a while, if a healer’s body was taking this long to fix itself after that fall, surely it would take Siren, a non healer far far longer.

The beep of the heart monitor continued, and the ticking of the clock above the door seemed to match its rhythm. These were alway nice moments, when it was finally just them in between the quiet walls of the medbay. These were the only moments they really got a break outside the times Tommy and Dream hopped from rooftop to rooftop in their hero gear, checking the streets below, just waiting for a call to tell them to get on their way and stop some huge heist. Or when they’d be at their day jobs, Tommy at the quaint library in a rather small part of town and Dream off in some radio station announcing the latest songs. Tomy always had his station up playing quietly in the background behind the service desk.

But at night, after their late shifts at their day jobs they could go home. They had two separate apartments, Tommy’s closer to the Library and Dreams inside Pogtopia. Yet Tommy oftentimes would find himself taking the bus across town to crash on Dream’s couch. His apartment was fine, but there was just something about entering an apartment to a fresh cooked meal and then lying on the cool wooden floors in the dark conversing loudly about their days at their “normal” jobs.

Tommy didn’t think Dream knew he listened to the station while at work, even if there were a few times the man decided to stop in for a lunch break while the music still played quietly in the background. He just never brought it up, and Tommy was sure that if he did he would be bullied relentlessly for it. “Fan behavior” he was sure Dream would call it, though even now Tommy could see that glint in the man’s eye revealing just how much the action meant to him.

They didn’t often end their days with a game or a movie, though, every once and a while, the two of them would be sent home early from their hero work. It was those days where they lounged on the couch, some top hit IMDB movie on the large flatscreen Dream owned or Mario Kart. It was from those nights that they usually went in to patrol the next day exhausted. Because despite being let off early, the two of them would play around far later into the daytime, and miss all their sleep in favor of spending one more game together, because who knew when they wouldn’t be able to do even that anymore.

And it wasn’t like either of them were about to quit their day jobs, not when they both loved them so much. Tommy could never give up those late nights where both of them lay on the roof of the radio station building staring at the light polluted stars, or whispered throughout the closed library, basking in the quiet. It was so comforting, and though they didn’t have all the time in the world, they both knew that they wouldn’t let go of those moments for anything.

They were young, the two of them. Sure Dream was somewhere in his twenties, a place Tommy didn’t care to remember (twenty two), but they still acted like the kids they were, and they promised they would continue to do so until the day they died.

There was a click of the door opening and then a brief bout of loudness from the passerby outside before the silence once again took over the room and another click sounded the closing of the room’s door. This was the busiest time of night for the Pogtopia medbay, most crime happened at night, so of course it would make sense that the most patients would come into the hero’s medical compound while the darkness was thriving.

“Hey all,” A familiar voice cut in, and even with his eyes closed, listening to the melodic sound of the medbay around them Tommy smiled, knowing exactly who had just decided to sneak into the room with them.

The smile continued to pull at the corners of Tommy’s face, and Tommy knew Dream too was smiling, despite the head he had buried in his arms at Tommy’s side. “Sapnap.” Tommy responded, eyes cracking open to watch as the man pulled a chair up to the Left side of Tommy’s bed, just across from Dream. The feet of the chair scraped against the floor, leaving the faintest black marks on the otherwise perfectly white tile.

The man huffed, shoving his headband back to push his dark hair from his face. Most heroes walked around Pogtopia maskless as Sapnap was now, the lower floors at least. While they didn’t all know each other’s names and identities, they were more casual, especially down here on the lower floors of Pogtopia. The lower they were in Pogtopia, the more secure the levels got. It was mostly just heroes allowed in the lowest levels, their ranks giving them access to just about every floor. Tommy was allowed on every floor but the last one, the last floor held all the files the hero compound had on everyone and everything, not that he cared much about the files anyway, so he didn’t really mind not being able to go down there. Down on the lower floors you caught more heroes walking around maskless, then again, the further down you got in the compound, the closer you got to the hero living spaces.

Some heroes still chose to keep their masks on no matter what, not untrusting of the heroes themselves at the compound, but rather untrusting of their keepers' way up at HQ.

Headquarters, the very top floor of Pogtopia, was basically filled with all the people who organized heroes and what they did. They told heroes where to go, what fights to fight, and most importantly, what to say to the media when they inevitably got caught by them after a pretty brutal fight. Without them, heroes would just be a disorganized mess, just as bad as the vigilantes running the streets aimlessly without guides. Now they were somehow on the same level of organization as the crime order of villains in L’manberg. Thost villains had to match up to the heroes somehow, and organization, Tommy saw, was the way with which they went.

If they hadn’t gone with that they would be so much easier to take down. But of course villains were geniuses, powered by their own motives and spite for others.

Sapnap’s hair stuck out at odd angles behind the white headband, though Tommy had seen his hair like this many times, he knew Sapnap didn’t really seem to care about how messy it looked, the man did whatever he wanted anyway so it wasn’t like he was going to stop pulling back his mess of hair anytime soon.

Sapnap groaned, sliding down his chair until his head hit the back and his legs were halfway under Tommy’s bed.

“I’m tired man,” He stated, coming to just the right place and people for a good old complaining session. “Paperwork for the Lab SUCKS, why can’t we just have body cams and have interns or something do that for us.”

Tommy laughed, feeling his abdomen wasn’t as sore as it had been earlier. He scooted himself back on the bed, sitting up to face the two guys fully. He crossed his legs underneath him on the mattress, settling his elbows on each of his knees, “Immagine how much easier that would make our jobs,” The boy added, smirk on his features, “Though I suppose HQ has us do it because ‘we know our opponents better’ than interns would.”

Sapnap let out another groan, that had been something the man himself had told Tommy on a particularly busy night in the compound, stating how it would be better in the long run given how well they each knew their opponents. It wasn’t like they had thousands of people online observing and analyzing every interaction they had with villains, let alone each other.

Wait.

They did have that.

Some people were just obsessed with them, how couldn’t they be, and it wasn’t like they didn’t know about them, those observers over the internet. Tommy knew for a fact that Dream sometimes spent hours studying comments on the internet pointing out his flaws in certain areas or giving him advice for fighting. That’s how Dream had become the public’s number one loved hero as voted by Entertainment Weekly or something of the sort.

Dream knew people, and that’s what made him the best, and the most trustworthy hero in the game.

People online would label Tommy and Dream as brothers, and Dream and Blade as the “ultimate rivalry.” They gave each and every hero an arch nemesis, Tommy didn’t have one, to them he was described as a sidekick, kept at Dream’s side where he was happy to stay.

“Body cams,” Dream laughed, bringing Tommy’s mind back to the present, “What a joke, everyone would try and go over those frame by frame to find something that’s not even there, and you know they would, Sapnap.”

Tommy didn’t want to think about what would have happened if they had body cams on, especially the night before when he had both caught Siren maskless in the collapsed basem*nt and had healed him to the point of his own passing out and the man’s escape.

“I would say they could put them in our masks if big hero Theseus' mask got ruined to no return last night in his fall.” Sapnap laughed, and Tommy forced a laugh alongside him, mind racing at the new knowledge. He still had his mask when they found him? That would mean that Siren had given it back after Tommy had passed out, and Tommy had no intention of even thinking what was going through Siren’s head as he returned Theseus’ mask, leaving their little collapsed basem*nt with no facial covering of his own.

Maybe that was good for Tommy, maybe some street camera had picked up on the man’s face and Tommy was spared of the guilt of knowing that he had seen him.

“I didn’t know my mask got ruined.” He stated, leaning back on the pillows behind him, “I thought it would’ve come off in the fall.”

Dream shrugged, “Your goggles did, but not the mask, your mask was fine until Ember over here panicked and threw it to the side to make sure you were still breathing.”

Sapnap just smiled sheepishly, “Yeah, that’s on me, it would have been fine too if I hadn’t burned it in my awesome rage.”

Tommy knew Sapnap for long enough to know how that meant that he had burned his mask off his face in a panic for his life. He was like that, there was no way Sapnap would admit that to anyone, no matter what they knew..

The three let out a few tired huffs of entertainment, the room going quieter in the wake of the fun.

Dream was the next to speak, tone taking on a bit more of a serious lilt. “Speaking of which, Tommy, you’re going to have to be a bit more careful over the next few weeks.” The words didn’t shock Tommy, he had felt them coming from a mile away, he knew what Dream meant, though tension wrapped itself through his shoulders, pulling at his still sore back. “Last night was a rough one, and for that, I might just send you off to bed, no hero work tonight, or” He checked the clock yet again “Tomorrow night? Anyway,” He carried on “One because you’re still healing up and two--” Dream held up a finger, sensing just when Tommy was about to butt in. “We’re going to need you at your best, given the rise of activity from Quackity and the Arctic. It’s setting up to be a busy month and I know you’ve seen it too.”

Tommy couldn’t complain at that, he had seen it, they all had. Dream was right, the Arctic, Quackity, and so many others that had been a pain in Tommy’s side from the beginning were beginning to act up more frequently, and many of the heroes were coming back to Pogtopia with more injuries than arrests. They would need Tommy more in the next few days than even he had time for.

Dream went on, pulling Tommy’s attention back from his sheets, “And Sam is going to need some time to fix you up with another pair of goggles and a mask. Given how often you destroy yours I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to make these next one’s indestructible.”

“Or glues them to your face,” Sapnap supplied, “He’s threatened me with that before.”

Tommy shrugged, Sam did seem like the type to threaten Sapnap with that, the boy did burn a lot of his masks very frequently, and even the ones Sam tried to make fireproof ended up gone or missing soon after they were made.

They laughed at the statement, though after their chuckles died down Dream spoke up, filling the silence, “We’ll go, you need your rest if you’re planning to go to work at the Library later, because I doubt you’re going to want to sit around the compound all day, and I doubt anyone else wants that either.”

Sapnap nodded at that smile etching across his face built for keeping a laugh from his voice at Tommy’s glare at Dream, “Hey, maybe now you can take some earlier hours like you’ve been telling me you want to, not like you’ll be getting another chance since you’re usually asleep at those times in the day.”

Tommy huffed, ignoring both Dream and Sapnap standing from their seats, the light scrape of the chair’s legs sounding throughout the room.

“What? You really think I want to work at the library from noon to nine? You’re crazy.” Tommy supplied, sliding further down under the cotton bedsheets. Sapnap was right though, Tommy didn’t usually see the “rush” times at the library during his shift. He went directly from his shift at the library to Pogtopia for the beginning of a night of hero work there. It was mostly quiet while he was there, just the occasional person wanting a book recommendation or needing a charging cable for their computer. It was easy, nice, and he usually worked the last few hours of his shift alone, locking up just before heading out to his second job.

Well, Tommy supposed the library job was his second job given that he didn’t depend on it to live and it didn’t depend on him for the safekeeping of the city.

He let out a deep forcefully exasperated sigh. “Guess I’ll sleep then.” He stated, and though the words were meant to be a joke, they came out slow. He really was still tired? After the twenty four hours of sleep he had already? He was going to blame all of this on himself, refusing to even acknowledge for a moment the other person that had caused him this tiredness.

Sapnap and Dream both gave him a little wave before leaving the room, the briefest burst of sound ringing through the room until he was once again swallowed by an all consuming silence at the click of the shutting door.

He wouldn’t let that silence open his racing mind to more thoughts. He refused to think twice about what he had done last night, though the memory pulled at his stomach like it was full of stones.

He felt guilty, he knew he did, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret what he did.

Chapter 3: A Textbook?

Chapter Text

“Let me get this straight,” Tommy started, looking with tired eyes over the computer monitor, “You want me to order a textbook to our library because you don’t want to buy it yourself.”

Tommy was a bit tired to say the least. Even after his thirty plus hours of sleep in the Pogtopia medbay, exhaustion still pulled at his muscles and bones like stones in the ocean. He felt like a puppet who had been set aside, no support, no show, no light, but still present waiting for whatever use would come for it next.

Thinking more on what Sapnap had supplied him with earlier that morning, Tommy decided he was going to take this rare opportunity of a morning off to work in the library at their more busy hours. Dream had forbidden him, with a firm grip on his shoulder, from doing any HQ work that night, and that included all of his paperwork that was stored neatly on Dream’s own desk in his Pogtopia apartment. This meant that Tommy would be staying the night in his own apartment, and probably work another long early shift at the library tomorrow, because he had to spite Dream and his rules somehow. He ignored how this decision would have absolutely no impact on Dream and would just serve to make Tommy more exhausted than he already was.

But hey, Tommy was nothing if not spiteful and petty.

Glass windows covered the northern wall to Tommy’s right, the service desk placed in just the right spot for Tommy to look over the soft green grass of the park below the library. Dogs and children raced between the oak and willow trees scattered across the field, couples laying at each other’s sides watching the grey clouds far above with barely whispered words of affection, feelings shown bright in the warm summer sun.

This was also a treat of working earlier hours, Tommy thought, just risking a glance to that park below. Later in the evening when he usually came in, the park was more calm, less full of energy and life in favor of a nice easy break after the work day as the sun set across the distant buildings of midtown L’manberg. Clouds floated in patches across the blue-grey sky, the darkened bottoms threatening rain in the rise of the summer heat.

Small particles of dust scattered throughout the air of the library in a perpetual dance starting from the carpeted floors and old reading chairs scattered throughout the library air and fluttering down, so slow they felt frozen in time, just to be launched right back into the air by a busy passerby.

There was just something so elegant about libraries, the light smell that was just so distinguishable as that of a library, the occasional laughter from a child as one of their parents read them some book they had thrown off the shelves of the picturebook section. The rare smell of light cinnamon tea wafting from the staff rooms and offices on the floor below.

Tommy loved this place, and he found he liked it even more now as there were actual people here to ask him questions,so different from the blissful silence of the night. Sure he liked the later shifts with the few regular kids that walked in to use one of the computers, and the college students picking up a book for some summer class, and the quiet old person here or there that offered Tommy a kind goodnight after checking out their books.

It was during those times that Tommy would read. He would usually pick up one of the books someone had brought up to be reshelved, or he would grab something new from downstairs, the librarians there giving him a satisfying wink before slipping him the books they knew he would like. It was a calming experience, but nothing then could rival the kind of energy the daytime patrons brought.

It was like a breath of fresh air this early shift, a way to clear his mind, reset his system. It was a reminder that the world wasn’t filled with violence and blood and pain and betrayal, like every day as a hero made Tommy believe. Sure there were still bad people that came in every once and a while to harass him as he sat there at the front desk, but at least they weren’t threatening the lives of random people they grabbed off the streets, or holding guns to the heads of children.

This place just helped him remember that real, kind, people did exist. This job was a disconnect from his other, a way to keep his mind busy from open wounds, or fights where his only goal was to get out of there with his life because no one cared for some panting hero on the street when there was someone else dead right there. He didn’t need to think about survival here, or pain, or healing someone who had done so much bad and caused so much harm to not only him but so, so many others–and why had he done that?

It was a break. Tommy continued to force himself to think, while he was here he wouldn’t be thinking about anything else other than the shelves and shelves of books all around him and the patron sitting right there waiting for Tommy to tell him if the library could buy him–

“A textbook.” Tommy repeated to the man, glancing over his computer monitor to look the man in the eyes. Tommy had never seen him before, but given the books he currently held against his chest, the boy knew he must have at least come here every once and a while, most likely earlier in the day or during the times Tommy wasn’t working, like now at two in the afternoon.

Square glasses sat perched on the man’s straight nose, and he just shrugged, giving Tommy an apathetic look. “I would buy it myself but she only sells this Textbook through Universities or Libraries, so here is really my only option for getting it.”

Tommy’s eyes did a one over on the man, he looked like a college professor, everything about him said he was. His loose brown jacket hung over a white flowy shirt, tucked into black jeans. Sneakers, impossibly white rested on his feet, really pulling the look together. The only thing that really set him apart from all the professors Tommy had seen before were his pierced ears and long pink hair that sat tied back in a loose bun at the nape of his neck.

“Right…” Tommy stated, looking back to his computer and typing in a few words.

The other man tilted his head, “It’s an interesting book.” He stated almost defensively, like Tommy really and truly cared about the subject at all, “Really a collection of papers and studies if anything, usually it’s used in graduate classes, and with a scientist like Captain Puffy,” A slight shrug, “I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

That caught Tommy’s attention, “The book’s by the Captain?” He asked, a spark in his eye at the mention of the woman’s name. She was a hero in everything but her title, the ram horned woman, while without any strong power still was one of the most revered people in the city. She was a scientist, a researcher, an inventor, and the most loved journalist in all of L’manberg. Tommy didn’t know how on earth she had enough time in her day to do everything that she did.

He had met the woman a couple times, her inventions were highly sought after so there were one or two calls of a breakin at her lab in an attempt to steal her highly advanced technology. Dream had to physically pull Tommy away from the woman the first time they met, that smile painted mask reflecting his laughter when Tommy only complained. She eagerly chatted with him about his own unique ability while he praised her for her work. Every time they saw each other after that they would exchange a lovely smile, Tommy would usually wave to the woman from across a crowd.

“Yep.” The man confirmed, not seeming as hyped as Tommy was about the author. “She’s pretty cool.”

He repeated the name of the textbook, something about plate tectonics, Tommy didn’t really care, more interested in the woman’s studies on the human body than anything else she worked on. Why wouldn’t he be interested in her discoveries of the functions of the body? He had to say, her studies ended up helping him a lot with the healing of hybrids when needed.

To Tommy, she was the modern Leonardo De Vinchi.

“I need it as soon as you can possibly get it in.” The man stated, setting his books down on the counter in front of Tommy’s monitor. As an afterthought he added, “I’m writing a paper.”

“I don’t care?” The words slipped from Tommy’s mouth as he concentrated on finding the book in the library’s ordering system. Before the man could retort, and Tommy knew he was going to with the look he had on his face, the boy continued, “Lucky for you I can have it in and processed by tomorrow afternoon.” He smacked the enter key eyes shooting back to the regal man in front of him whose frown had disappeared from his features at the statement. “You’ll just have to come here and get it from me here at the desk, I’ll do all the processing manually if you really need it that fast.”

“And I do.” The man confirmed, though there was a certain lilt to his voice that Tommy took as excitement, though it was hard to decipher with the man’s tone.

He wasn’t monotone per se, rather his voice was more flat than others, the shows of excitement or anger presenting themselves at a lower level than other people. It was interesting to say the least, this man was not the first Tommy had met who spoke like that.

Tommy nodded, eyes flickering over the computer screen, “Looks like you’re not the only person who’s requested we get this textbook so I think it’ll be a good addition to our shelves.” Tommy was speaking to himself more than the man now, going through all the steps of ordering a book through the Library. “It’ll arrive tomorrow morning, I’ll get in at noon, I should be done with it at like… two? How’s that sound?”

The man raised an eyebrow, “It takes you two hours to process a book?”

Tommy glared at him, unimpressed, “No, but putting books into the system isn’t my only job here, idiot.”

The man laughed at that, giving Tommy the smallest “heh.” How was Tommy supposed to take that as amusem*nt? Though the sound brought a smile to the boy’s face.

Tommy glanced down to the man’s pile of books on the desk in front of him, “I can check those out for you here if you’d like.” He stated, “Might be easier than walking across the library to the self check out all the way over there.”

Both their eyes flickered to the machine.

To be clear, the self checkout was settled on the same desk, just feet away from where Tommy now sat, and there wasn’t just the one there, there were two. Both their eyes caught on the closer machine, smooth light screen reflecting the green of the grass outside like it was just waiting for someone to use it.

Their eyes met again, the lightest red shining back at Tommy from just past those glasses propped on the man’s nose. They nearly gave him memories of fights long past where he had sat cold and bleeding on the concrete just waiting for someone, anyone, to find him. He shivered at the thought, eyes going back to the books. That was the problem with near death experiences Tommy supposed: the more near death experiences you had the more things in normal everyday life reminded you of death.

“Name,” Tommy prompted, pulling up the system program.

“Phil.” The man stated, and Tommy rolled his eyes.

“First and last if you could, Phil.”

Another light chuckle escaped the man’s mouth, and Tommy gave him an unimpressed look over the computer monitor. “Phil’s my dad, my name’s Techno.” he stated, “We all use his account because we’re too lazy to get our own.” He glanced over the keyboard, “And it would be Phil Soot.”

Tommy refused to laugh at that, remembering Sapnap’s whispers to him in the hero compound one day, stating that the two of them needed to stop laughing at others’ names just because they sounded wierd. They had laughed at Thunder because his name was Thunder, the idiot, and Sapnap said they were lowering the villain's morale during fights.

They hadn’t stopped of course, the two of them laughing right in the man’s face the next day after yet another failed heist.

“Your name is Techno?” Tommy asked, voice low as he tried and failed to hide the laughter in his words.

“You can’t even hide the fact you find my name funny.” Techno said with a wave of his hands, he might as well have just called Tommy unbelievable right then and there, he knew that look.

“Like a computer?” Tommy asked, this time taking a breath beforehand, trying harder to not let his amusem*nt show in his voice.

The man rolled his eyes, “I guess.” He stated, a hint of annoyance hidden in his words. Alright, Tommy was done then, he knew that tone meant only bad things if pushed farther.

He let a brief chuckle out of his system before he typed out ‘Phil Soot’ into the ‘members’ search bar. Sure enough a Phil Soot popped up, the only one in the system surprisingly. He had a long expanse of past checkouts, and for the most part it looked like they got their books turned in way before their due date, it was either that or…

“There’s a hold on your account,” Tommy informed the man ‘Techno’, “Overdue book byyyyyy,” Tommy checked the screen again before sucking his breath through his teeth, “Four months and thirteen days, does it really take that long to read a book titled,” He paused, checking the title twice, “Popular Heroes of the Past Tell you Their Stories?” The blonde boy genuinely frowned at that, “That book is literally in the JV nonfiction section, that stands for juvenile nonfiction section. You have a younger brother or sister or something or is this yours?”

The man in front of him had closed his eyes, then looked to the library ceiling like he was praying for patience, he might as well have been.

“Something like that,” He said finally, dragging a near defeated look from the rafters of the building, “My younger brother is interested in heroes…I think?”

“You think.” Tommy stated back, dead expression. These were always a pain to deal with. “Given this account’s usual punctuality on returning books I could bypass the system and renew the book for you so you don’t have to pay sixteen dollars for a paperback book.” Tommy ignored his use of ‘bypass the system’, really all he needed to do was click the renew button and they were good.

The pink haired man, however, was shaking his head, “No, he burned it, I’ll pay now.”

Okay, a bit of a shock, “Little arsonist brother,” Tommy stated, with a ‘might as well be’ tilt to his head, “I got one of those too.” To be fair though Tommy also had a little arsonist brother. However Sapnap was both older than Tommy and only set things on fire with a reason, doing everything in his power to avoid getting scolded by Dream for some other thing he set on fire unnecessarily. “That’ll be sixteen dollars then,” He stated, adding the second book of the day into his library checkout cart. “Or fifteen dollars and eighty five cents if you want to be exact.”

The man pulled out a simple leather wallet from his back pocket. “You take cash?” He questioned, eyes briefly flicking to meet Tommys. The boy nodded and Techno, of course this guy would, started digging coins from his wallet. It only took him a few seconds but the man handed Tommy a ten and a five dollar bill and exact change.

Tommy set his head in his hands, thinking for the first time ever if he could find a job in a library closer to the inner city so maybe he could avoid whatever this bullsh*t was.

Techno slid the money across the desk towards Tommy, and damn, if this bitch was about to be petty, Tommy was going to be too. He took the money, making a scene of counting out the bills and coins twice over, keeping his eyes pinned on the man in front of him at any chance he got. He even observed each bill and coin as if to check their validity, ignoring the sigh from the patron, who, to his benefit, was far calmer than Tommy would expect anyone to be in this position. He’d give the guy that at least.

Finally Tommy slid the money into the drawer below the desk and took that stupid hold, off of their stupid account.

“Now,” Tommy finally said, a bit of exasperation sneaking into his tone. The library was quiet around them save for the excited whispering of some group of teenagers who were sat all together at one of the windowside tables. “Just hand over your books you want me to check out.”

The man didn’t seem at all phased by Tommy’s growing annoyance, face unreadable as he handed over his new books and–

Of course this man was checking out a book completely and totally dedicated to the “prisoner’s dilemma.” Even the cover preached Over Eight Hundred pages of Psychological Analysis. Tommy starred at it for a beat before sliding it over the sensor. The next book was “How to Play With Your Dog!” and Tommy stood from his desk chair, needing just a moment.

This guy.

The man said nothing for a bit, and Tommy heard him shifting from foot to foot, but Tommy would deal with that in a moment. This. This was by far the strangest interaction Tommy had ever had with a patron in the library before, and he one time was there when some poor new mom’s water broke as she was checking out her books.

With one more deep breath he sat back down in his desk chair.

“Sorry.” He stated, not at all sounding like he cared, “Leg cramp, needed to stand.” A lie, and they both knew it. It was the exhaustion, he told himself, plain and simple, today was just an off day for him and his attention and resilience were already gone.

With the second book run over the scanner Tommy didn’t even ask the guy if he wanted a receipt with his books, dreading carrying on any further conversation with the man, especially if he was going to have to see him tomorrow too when he stopped in to pick up his newly ordered book. The receipt printed, and without another word Tommy slid the books over to the man, the receipt tucked in the front cover of the second book.

“Enjoy your books.” Tommy supplied, checking out of Mr. Phil Soot’s library account.

“I will.” The man stated with ease, walking towards the exit.

Tommy didn’t even have it in him to laugh after the whole ordeal. He just rested his head back in his hands and thought over the past couple of minutes in excruciating detail, wondering moments after if the encounter had really happened at all.

***

Home was as quiet as always.

Tommy tossed his backpack onto his beaten up couch. The digital clock on his TV stand read 9:40 in bright blue letters that shone across the apartment in the shut of lights. Tommy settled himself right next to his bag, sighing as he relaxed himself, letting the sweet bliss of “home” lure him into deep comfort.

His shift at the library was usually from four to nine. He would close the library up at nine and go out to take the bus to Pogtopia where he and Dream’s nights really began. On the way home today however he decided to just treat himself, running into the local Chinese fast food place on the way back to his apartment for a quick dinner before he fell back asleep.

The room was buzzing with noise around him. From the passing of cars far below on the street to the muffled sounds of his neighbors watching their TV.

Tommy lay his head on the back of the sofa, taking in a long deep inhale, as he stretched all of his muscles with an arch of his back, raising clasped hands over his head. It was rare when the complex was quiet, not that Tommy really adored the silence here. A loud bump that came from above, telling Tommy that his upstairs neighbor had his girlfriend over tonight. Tommy couldn’t say he ever really expected the quiet, especially here.

Maybe the noise was nice. Tommy tried to tell himself, taking another deep breath in through his nose, squeezing his eyes shut further. He would sleep now, but his bedroom was the only quiet part of the apartment, some spell cast on the walls and ceiling by the demon Bad. A blessing for when Tommy was actually tired, but it wouldn’t be now.

The quiet would consume him there. It would allow his deepest thoughts to surface and thrive, it would make him think too deep, his thoughts coming too rapidly in that silence. It was especially there that those thoughts would pound through his veins like his blood and sound in his ears more loudly than his own breath. The thoughts would overwhelm him until he just had enough.

It was then when the one thought he hated more than anything else seeped from the depths of his brain like a snake ready to strike. Consuming his mind in a fire Tommy couldn’t hope to fight. The thought had haunted him, every second of the day, just as it had taken root in his dreams as he slept in the Pogtopia medbay. It may have been new, but the thought pounded relentlessly against his mind, sickly soft words begging to be listened to.

They whispered, those words in the back of Tommy’s mind, sneaking out of the silence of his room when there was nothing else to do but think. The words hissed, poison dripping from each letter like it was a song, they told him that maybe, just maybe, Siren deserved to live, and when Tommy had saved his life, movements so steady he must have lived his whole life for that exact moment, it had been done with his full comprehension of what was happening. It had felt like a god was guiding his hands to work, knowing how the action would haunt his every waking step after the moment ended.

Siren was a villain, plain and simple, there had been so many times where Tommy had laid at his mercy, because it was him that told Tommy in that soft voice, dripping from his jaw like blood mixed honey, “Don’t breathe until I say you can.” Eyes so kind sparkling behind that veil of his anyone would have thought he meant the best by the words.

And why had his eyes been so piercing then? Changed so fast from that kindness to such a sharp and seething hatred, no mercy as the man watched the panic fill Tommy’s eyes as his goggles lay at his feet utterly cracked and broken from their fight. He must have known then, that Tommy could heal, must have known at that moment that there was no way he would be able to save himself from those words.

Tommy could barely remember the relief he felt when the sweetest words had peaked through the fog of his mind, his eyes so ready to close for one last time. “Breathe.” He had coughed then, taking in breaths so deep he was sure there would never be a moment in his life where he wouldn’t be thankful for the air that entered his lungs.

“You’re worthless.” Siren said then, squatting at Tommy’s side when all Tommy could do was keep breathing, “The second I want you gone, I’ll kill you myself, and I’ll savor every minute.” He walked away without a look over his shoulder, leaving Tommy gasping for breath on the solid floor, seconda away from tossing his mask to the side to just get more air into his lungs.

This was the same villain that held a knife to Dream’s throat, Dream. Eyes wild and burning, promising the man that with one movement from him he would cut his throat to the bone, only for Tommy to tackle Siren and have the role switched, because if Tommy knew anything, it was that Dream would not be leaving this world before he did.

…

Siren scared Tommy.

Tommy was horrified by the villain; all that kept him moving in their fights now was pure adrenaline. He couldn’t fight Siren by himself. So why was he able to stare the man dead in the eyes and think about just how human he looked.

A thump sounded upstairs again and Tommy jerked at the sudden noise, realizing it wasn’t just the deafening claw of silence ripping through his mind that brought to light his darkest thoughts.

He pressed the palms of his hands into his closed eyes until all he could see were drifting bubbles of color. Maybe it was the exhaustion from earlier in the day catching up to him, so that even with his senses consumed by the sound, smell, and feel of his apartment, in the place where he wanted to be most comfortable in the world, fear would creep across his skin like a shedding snake.

When Tommy went to bed that night, crawling onto that soft so rarely used mattress of his, he let that remaining fear drag him under in a hard and cruel embrace.

Chapter 4: This is a library sir.

Chapter Text

The Library was quiet today, Tommy thought, going through all of his morning routines. It was just him now in the building, he wasn’t really expecting much company from his coworkers today as it was a Monday? Tuesday? Tommy didn’t usually keep track. Most of his coworkers lived further away from the library than he did, so when it came to the less busy days, it was usually just him scheduled, and since he was coming in earlier today, why should any of his coworkers come in, he was there already, wasn’t he?

He guessed this quiet was nice as compared to the wave of patrons yesterday at this time, but he really liked it when there were more people in the library. It seemed that the beginning of the work week wasn’t as busy as Tommy usually thought it would’ve been.

He stared down at his phone now through a disappointed gaze. Dream had texted him, and ordinarily Tommy would be excited because that would usually mean the man was calling him back to work, but not really this time.

Sam should be done with your new mask and goggles tonight. It read. Nice! So Tommy didn’t have to sit alone in his apartment again tonight out of spite for Dream’s stupid no working rules, right?

Wrong. A text followed the first and even through the screen Tommy could see that smug smile Dream had on his face when he probably sent the message. He’ll be at home though, so you’d have to go and get it from there before coming to work.

That right bastard. Sam would be back at Pogtopia tomorrow morning, so unless Tommy wanted to have an oh so fun trip out to the ice districts of L’manberg, he would have to wait for the morning to go to Pogtopia for work.

Tommy would have gone to Sam’s now out of spite, trudging that icy area of the city just so he could show up at the hero complex suited up and ready to go. Oh would he love to see that smug look on Dream’s face drop as Tommy walked into his apartment, his new pair of goggles and mask on display in his hands as he was ready for another fight.

He wasn’t going to do that though.

Tommy groaned in the empty library, setting his forehead on the desk and covering his head with his arms. His lips drew into a thin line between him and his desk. He had been in the ice district not even a few days ago for their fight with Siren and the others. The abandoned area was annoying, sure, but Tommy was not going to be revisiting it any time soon. He could still feel the cold creeping into his bones and his body healing himself until he was nearly too sore to move.

He pressed his forehead deeper into the wood of the desk, suppressing an overdramatic, acted sob from escaping his mouth. He also didn’t want to go because he didn’t even want to think about what happened out there in the cold streets under that collapsed building.

Whatever god had cursed that section of land in their city to be forever frozen in a perpetual cold must have cursed Tommy as well, taunting him with every day that passed like he wanted the boy to break down, like he wanted to see just how far he could push Tommy before he broke.

Lucky for the god, Tommy thought, he had maybe just found something that broke Tommy.

The boy sighed yet again, taking in the rustic scent of the wooden desk below him. He’ll go to work in Pogtopia tomorrow. He finally raised his head to look at the monitor in front of him. The open tab of the library program that helped insert books into the system staring down at him. A bright white was taking up his screen, Tommy would’ve thought it was taunting him with the brightness if he were just a little more annoyed today.

Tommy didn’t think he was going to be staying at Dream’s tonight, despite the fact that if he did end up going he could do that paperwork he left on the man’s desk. However, now that Tommy was thinking about it, pulling up that newly ordered textbook from his side to start entering in the details, he had a feeling that Dream may have already just done that paperwork for him.

“dickhe*d.” Tommy mumbled, typing in the Textbook’s title, the sh*tty png images in the front looking as if the book had been designed by a toddler, though Tommy knew this was all Puffy’s work. God knew he refused to say any bad thing about the woman but she really needed to hire someone to do her textbook covers for her, maybe this was why only libraries and universities could buy this sh*t, Amazon just didn’t want something so ugly on their website.

The computer clock read one thirty and Tommy buried his face in his hands in frustration. It wasn’t like this was boring, I mean, it was, but Tommy just felt full of energy right now. He wanted Dream or Sapnap to walk into the library even though they never came to visit during the open hours and he wanted to hash it out with them until his energy simmered down.

He wanted to do anything but sit right about now. Sure he needed to get this done, but Tommy didn’t think he could focus for one more second on the textbook with the amount of energy that was buzzing through his brain.

As if his mind had summoned him, someone came sauntering around the corner of a row of shelves. Tommy wouldn’t have noticed them at first if they hadn’t dropped every single one of their books in a step of imbalance or something of the sort.

At the loud noise of the collapsing of books Tommy looked over from his desk to the man, quickly standing from his chair. Now this would give him something to do on his feet, no matter how quick it might go.

“Holy sh*t, are you alright?” Tommy began, walking out from behind the desk and past the two circular tables set neatly in front of the desk. The man was already kneeling picking up the books like he hadn’t just fallen over and scattered them across the floor.

The guy let out a nervous chuckle, and Tommy knelt in front of him to help with the books. “I’ll be fine, everyone drops books every once and a while right?”

Tommy, being in the mood he was, decided in a split second that he was going to be taking all of his energy and annoyed feelings at Dream out on this guy. Wrong time, wrong place for him.

“Well…” Tommy began, voice twisted in a way that said ‘not really’ though this happened every day.

“Oh f*ck off.” The guy replied, no real heat in his voice and a laugh on his tongue. Ok, so this was going to be fun.

The two of them stood, and brown eyes met blue.

The guy was tall, a little taller than Tommy, who was, in and of himself, well above six foot, so this guy had to be considered a giant. He had a sweater on, the dark brown fabric hanging loosely around his form, the collar of a black tshirt was just peeking out from beneath it sweater. His jeans and shoes were normal, if not a bit clean for the rest of the man’s look. His hair was curly and dark, it was styled in the purposefully messy messy way that made Tommy cringe a bit. Blue light glasses sat on the man’s straight nose, framing his face to look thinner than it really was, even though the man’s face was very thin to begin with. He gave the man another once over, before deciding that yeah, this was about to be the highlight of his day.

“First time here?” Tommy asked, glancing down at the books in his own arms. They were all geography, and half Tommy had seen in the ‘what to do in (insert country name)’ section of the library. This guy had a lot of countries stacked in those arms of his. Tommy set the books on top of the other man’s pile, meeting the guy’s eyes, “Or just planning on traveling to every country in existence outside of L’manberg?”

The man opened his mouth then closed it, as if calculating his words, god, this guy must have been a nerd or just very socially awkward, but Tommy understood that.

“I’m just picking up a book for my brother.” He stated in such a way you would have thought that Tommy had accused him of murder. He said it like it was an alibi, and Tommy had to keep himself from laughing. This would bring some light to his day.

The stranger seemed to get his bearings again, straightening his stance and reorganizing his books, “And-and I just thought I’d pick up some of my own books, you know, library things.”

The man didn’t seem to be looking at Tommy, instead, looking just over the boy’s left shoulder. “Right.” Tommy stated, moving back to his spot before they guy had dropped all of his books.

He spoke up after that, Tommy’s movement seeming to break him out of whatever thoughts he had wrapped himself into, a devilish smile spreading over his features. “Do you work here?” The man asked.

Tommy nearly rolled his eyes, sitting back behind the desk and pulling his chair up closer to the computer. “No.” He stated, eyes flicking back to the computer screen, “I just sit behind this desk and help guys that drop all of their books because I think it’s fun.”

He laughed at that, earning the smallest hint of a smile from Tommy. The guy set his books on one of the circular tables before leaning against Tommy’s desk, a look in his eye past the smile that Tommy couldn’t read. “To be fair, you would help me out with my books if you were a nice person.” He stated, “Not just because you work here.”

Tommy huffed at that, starting to work on the textbook again, “That would be true if I was a nice person?” Tommy stated, the phrase less of a question and more of a sarcastic prod on the man in front of him. “I don’t want you getting it into your head that I would help you if I weren’t working right now.”

Tommy’s eyes didn’t leave the computer screen but he saw the shift in the man’s posture at those words. So he was going to take Tommy’s words as a challenge. Tommy knew that posture, Sapnap had it every time they squared off against each other in a verbal swing, and it usually ended up with the two of them sparring and laughing on the floor, neither of them breathing right through their laughter. Dream had the look sometimes too, though he would rarely face up against Tommy when he was in one of these moods, but to be fair, he wasn’t in these moods very often.

“What if I were offended by that?” The man asked, a sh*t eating grin on his face, oh so he was allowed to look great all the time then, Tommy thought, eyes flicking from the computer screen. And it seemed like the man was picking up on whatever challenge Tommy was laying down for him.

Tommy gave him the same look back, crossing his arms in front of him on the desk, “Which you aren’t.” He stated, those blue eyes never leaving those of the other.

“And what if I asked to see your manager?” he asked, that smile never lacking in venom with its look.

Tommy leaned forward, “I would tell you that you’re acting like a Karen.” He stated simply, and then with the fakest grin he could muster said, “Then I would tell you that I’m the manager.”

“You are.” The man stated, indifference on his features as well as a look that stated ‘sure you are’ in the same tone he had spoken his words.

Tommy finally rolled his eyes at that, going back to his work. “Unless you’re going to do anything but annoy me you can go and check out that book for your brother now.” Tommy furiously typed the isbn of the textbook into his computer, set on getting this book in the system by two.

The man didn’t move, and Tommy made sure that he spent an inconsiderate amount of time finding the book’s library description and tag before meeting his eyes again.

“What do you want.” Tommy stated, really going down this, ‘I’m annoyed so you have to be annoyed too’ arc of his.

The guy shrugged, because of course he would, and Tommy saw that smug look behind his mask of amusem*nt. “I told you, I’m here to pick up a book for my brother.”

And that was when it hit Tommy.

His grip on the textbook tightened and he glared over his monitor at the man. Of course, of course this guy would be here for the textbook, the textbook Tommy wasn’t done putting in the system yet, the textbook he still needed fifteen minutes at least to get ready.

“You’re Phil?” Tommy asked, remembering full well that ‘Phil’ was the father. But then something even better hit him at the annoyed look the guy shot over the desk towards Tommy. “Or the younger sibling that burnt a kids book on superheroes?”

Oh that had got him. A grimace passed over his features, sticking around his mouth as it turned down the corners. “He told you about that?” He questioned, and Tommy just shrugged, now he was the one hiding his smug look behind a face of indifference.

Got him.

The two sat in silence for another moment, Tommy typing away at his computer before he realized that, oh right, this guy needed something from him.

“Sorry to tell you but I’m not going to have this thing done for at least another quarter hour.” His attention went back to the computer screen, “So go sit down or something, the picture books area is just past these shelves.”

The man was silent for a moment, then two, and finally Tommy looked up to the guy, and the man began to laugh. The sound was so pure and joyful, Tommy couldn’t help but crack his own smile at the sound, letting out a little huff of laughter.

“It’s not that funny you weirdo.” Tommy said, though that smile remained on his mouth. “What’s your name anyway?” He questioned, standing from his chair to retrieve a magnetic tag for the book to be put in the system.

Once they guy’s laughter calmed, and it did slowly, he watched Tommy over the desk, a grin still on his features. “I’m Wilbur.” He introduced himself, “And who are you, kid? Are you even old enough to work here?”

Tommy snorted, “I’m a student worker here on minimum wage, they don’t pay me enough to deal with people like you on a daily basis.” The boy sat back in his chair, sliding closer to the textbook, “And I’m Tommy.” Why not give his name to the guy, Wilbur, he was interesting enough for Tommy.

“And what? You just work here at the Clementine County Library for fun? For a minimum wage job?” Wilbur looked genuine in his question, and Tommy wasn’t going to lie, it threw him off a bit.

“What? Why do you wanna know so much about me, creep? Not like we’ll see each other again after I hand over this book.” For good measure Tommy Hit the textbook twice with a resounding thump, thump.

A challenging look engulfed the other’s face, “You think I’m not going to come in and bug you now? Just because you’re an annoying little prick?”

Tommy slid the magnet sticker in the back cover of the book, rolling his eyes. “Like you’d ever be able to find me, these aren’t even my normal hours, chance is you’ll never see me again.” The offer was tempting, but with the sh*t eating grin spreading across the other’s face, Tommy knew the taunt had just pushed the man in the wrong direction and towards the wrong decision.

“What’s to say I won’t come in at every hour of every day just so I can find when you work and walk in saying ‘Tommy, oh Tommy, I’ve burned another one of your precious books!’ Who’s to say I won’t do that.”

Oh this asshole. “That’d just be money out of your pockets big man, if you ever want to check out books here again.” He rolled his eyes with that and went back to the book, sliding that clear material over the cover to protect the book.

“Or I’d just never pay them back and find another library to go to.”

Tommy’s eyes flicked to the man, then back to the book in his hands, more focused on it now than him. “Now that’d be just villainous.” Tommy stated, breaking off some book tape from the roll next to him. “And I doubt either you or your brother would rather go to ‘President Schlatt Library’ Everyone and their grandma knows the state of that library.”

Tommy knew, that was for one. The one time he had gone in there for something other than his hero work he had been bitten by a feral cat, witnessed by the laughing homeless group who had set up in the corner or the first floor of the library. Never again.

WIlbur, the bastard, Tommy was beginning to realize that, he was raising an eyebrow at that, the look more of a challenge than Tommy had ever seen in his life. Tommy would be damned if he didn’t take that up.

With a tilt of his head, Tommy felt the challenge rising in him too. “Who’s to say I just won’t start working downstairs to avoid any possible contact with you?”

“Well you have to leave the building at some time.” Wilbur stated, taking up that comfortable position of leaning up against the desk, “What? Scared of a little fun interaction, Tommy?”

He rolled his eyes, bringing his focus back to the textbook in front of him, “You creep, I’m a minor, you can’t just come into my library and threaten stalking for the pure purpose of annoyance, it’s just unlawful.” It was fun, Tommy thought, this back and forth. It had been a while since he was able to do something like this outside of work with a normal civilian.

Wilbur’s look of challenge dropped at that, in fact Tommy would have thought time froze if the man didn’t blink, eyes sat staring, but not really looking at the textbook in Tommy’s hand. “You’re not like…” Wilbut began, as he attempted to settle the challenge back into his voice, “Twenty?”

Tommy thought if he rolled his eyes one more time they would pop out of his skull and never come back so he kept focused on the textbook, nearly done with the protective cover. A smile still hinted at his lips as he spoke, trying his best to keep the tone that said idiot from his tone, “I’m sixteen actually.” He said, and utterly failed at keeping the laughter from his voice, “Have been for a couple months now.”

The silence stretched on, and finally when Tommy finished with the book covering he looked to the man in front of him. Wilbur was looking down at him like he was a puzzle, his pieces scattered all over the floor. He was looking at Tommy like he wanted to memorize every piece of him and put him together so he could figure him out.

Let him try, Tommy thought, he wanted Wilbur to try so hard it may have shown on his face.

“Oh.” Was all he could say, trying to bring that smug smile back to his face and failing, “You sound twenty.”

Tommy shook his head, this guy was amusing, that was for sure. He ran the textbook over the scanner and the machine let out a happy chirp to let Tommy know that the book was finally in the system.

“Your book’s ready.” Tommy stated, finally looking back over the monitor to Wilbur. “dickhe*d.” Tommy added on after a moment of thought. “You want me to check all those out for you or do you want to do it yourself?” Tommy sent a pointed look over to the pile of books Wilbur had set down earlier.

Wilbur broke his line of sight with Tommy to look back at his pile of books before shrugging, and grabbing them, that simple look settling back on his features, because of course it would with the thought of Tommy having to check out all these books for him.

“Yeah, I guess.” He said, though by the way he had slammed down the pile of books in front of Tommy he had decided to make the kid check all the books out for him a while ago.

Tommy shrugged, light was just creeping over the floor in front of Tommy from the sun shining down through the skylights far up in the building. “Phil Soot?” He asked, though the account was already pulled up, a single complacent nod from Wilbur all he needed to begin with the books.

It didn’t take long, really and Tommy took the time to look over each of the books the man was checking out. The covers were all so smooth, and Tommy would be lying if he said he didn’t remember covering at least one of these books himself. One in particular made Tommy’s hands pause on the glossy cover.

“You’re into music?” He questioned, though the book in his hands said it all. It was a classic songs and their cords book, and it only took Tommy a quick glance to see some of his own favorite songs on there.

“Yeah.” Wilbur confirmed, “I play the guitar.” Suddenly his smile widened and he stood up straighter, “What? You see any of your favorite songs on that list?”

For a matter of fact, Tommy had, though this prick just looked so ready to judge him, Tommy was sure any song he stated this bastard would turn it all around on him and say it was the worst one on the list or that Tommy was just going with the popular ones. So Tommy, being a right bastard back, shook his head. “I wouldn’t want to hear you play any of these songs, you’d probably just ruin them for me.”

Wilbur just shook his head, curled hair waving with the movement. Tommy finished with the books, finally sliding the textbook across the scanner. That last chirp was all the boy needed to know that the book was both in the system, and finally checked out.

“Do you want a receipt?” Tommy asked, going to hit decline on the computer because something about this guy told Tommy that he was the type to ‘not want to waste paper’ to ‘save the trees’ because obviously it was them killing trees and I don’t know, not Schlatt enterprises.

Wilbur shrugged, “Eh, why not, gotta remember who checked all my books out for me.” That self-satisfied tone never left his voice.

With a dead stare Tommy clocked the print button, hearing the familiar sound of the receipt printing. “You absolute dumb bitch, the recipt doesn’t say my name, just your book titles, the time you checked them out and when they’re due.” With a tap on the receipt, sliding it across the desk towards Wilbur, he continued, “And that would be in three weeks, make sure you don’t bring back any burned.”

Wilbur tilted his head, giving Tommy that look again, like he was a puzzle he wanted to piece together. “You’re not the best at customer service, are you?” He asked, an amused tone to his voice.

Tommy decided to answer honestly, thinking maybe the honesty would get the guy out of the library faster or maybe give him whiplash through Tommy’s change of tone, “You just didn’t come in on the right day I suppose.” Tommy stated, going back to the work on his computer, just about too tired of this man entirely. He had gotten that jumpy energy out of his system, and now he was ready to actually do his job. “And besides, the library isn’t as much a customer service position as food places or something. I have free reign here. Not like they’re going to fire me when I’m the one doing all the real work around here.” That was a lie, usually the downstairs workers processed all the books. All Tommy did was shelve those books, get patrons cards, pull books to put on hold and do desk work.

Okay, he did a lot, but he enjoyed this more than sitting downstairs all day and doing work there.

Wilbur gathered his monstrous stack of books in his arms, heaving them up against his chest in a hope he wouldn’t drop them again. “I suppose next time I’ll come on a good day of yours, or bring in food.” It was a question, Tommy knew it was, and damn if Tommy didn’t find Wilbur at least a bit interesting.

He relented once he saw the sliver of a hopeful look in Wilbur’s eye. With a sigh, Tommy leaned his arms against his desk, “I work every afternoon, four to nine. Then I go spend the night with my friends.”

Wilbur raised an eyebrow, shifting the books in his hold, “What? You don’t have school during the day?” It was a jab, Tommy rolled his eyes at it.

“f*ck off old man, it’s summer and I was too smart for school, already graduated.”

“Oh,” Wilbur replied, that smirk ghosting his lips, “I didn’t know I was dealing with a nerd here.”

Finally, after the whole interaction, Tommy let himself genuinely smile. “What can I say, I’m just simply too cool.”

Wilbur let out a chuckle, waving Tommy a goodbye with one of his hands that was supporting the books, the pile moving dangerously at the motion.

“Later then, Tommy.” He said, an unreadable look in his eye that Tommy took as mischief as the man walked towards the exit of the library, light of the sun from the skylights making a halo out of his curly hair, “See you soon!”

Chapter 5: Las Nevadas

Chapter Text

When Tommy finally retrieved his new mask and goggles from Sam, he didn’t know what he was expecting from work. What he could tell you was that he was definitely not expecting to be dragged all the way to Las Nevadas because Dream had a meeting with Quackity.

While it wasn’t its own country, Las Nevadas was totally and completely out of the control of the L’manberg government. The place sat at the very edge of the city, beautiful tall buildings shining with a million and one lights looking over a mass of sheer cliffs over the ocean.

It was beautiful, white quartz walls surrounding the entirety of the place, cutting it completely off from the rest of the city save for one singular opening, gilded gates rarely closed to the outside as they towered above the smooth black roads. There were tolls, of course, to get into Las Nevadas, nothing here was cheap. Quackity had told Tommy on more than one occasion as he visited that it takes a lot of money to keep a place in full neutrality.

That was the other thing. Las Nevadas was completely neutral ground. Heroes, villains, and vigilantes roamed peacefully, albeit maybe verbally hostile throughout the streets, restaurants, and of course, in the Casino.

The Casino was the staple of Las Nevadas, Tommy could swear he could hear the ringing of the machines throughout his sleep given how loud they were in person. The clanking of coins together, the shrill laughter of the richest people in all of L’manberg, the screams of people being dragged from the Casino at one word from its owner, never to bee seen inside its walls again… Tommy had to admit, Las Nevadas did have a particular charm to it.

It wasn’t like anyone was about to challenge Quackity on the neutrality of Las Nevadas either. Everyone, and when I say everyone I mean absolutely everyone owed Quackity at least one favor.

Everyone that was, except for Tommy.

Tommy and Quackity had gone way back, having banded together when they were younger on the streets. Tommy didn’t know what part of L’manberg Quackity originally came from, but when they met Quackity made sure to hang around the areas he knew Tommy lurked.

Those were simpler times, and Tommy would almost miss them if he didn’t remember the biting cold of every winter so fresh in his mind, or the ache for food after just a bit too long without finding something to eat. Tommy helped out all the other kids as much as he could then with his healing abilities, and one of the kids that ended up needing help extremely often just ended up being Quackity.

The kid, not much older than Tommy himself, got into a lot of fights. But what would you know, those fights made Quackity into something, and he had used absolutely everything he had to crawl his way up here to where he now sat, far above the slums of the city.

Tommy supposed he was lucky to have known the guy before his life turned from freedom and adrenaline to office work and too much pressure. Quackity used to laugh so freely, promising Tommy that no matter what, at least one of them would survive the streets.

They had both survived, though Quackity’s smile faded over the years, he received scars that he had no hope of healing, and he was too busy for his own good.

Or that’s what Tommy thought. He supposed that Quackity was smart, probably the smartest person he knew. He had gone through things Tommy didn’t think he could survive. There were still things Quackity kept to himself, and Tommy understood that. When they were growing up they were lucky to have something they could keep for themselves, and now that they could afford to keep secrets, they hoarded each of them close to their chests like they were stolen jewels, just waiting to be yanked from each of their hands.

Quackity would usually invite Tommy to Las Nevadas for a break, the two of them just needing time to sit at the top of the Casino, legs dangling over the edge of the roof as they watched in silence as the dark waves of the sea crashed against the sheer cliffs below.

Tommy let all of his worries melt away when he was up there with Quackity, mask off as he let the sunshine and breeze brush against his face like a mother’s touch. When they sat there they refused to think of their life outside of just the two of them sitting, all they needed in those moments were a quick feel of peace, no matter how rare it was for them to feel such a way.

Meeting on business was different however. It was harsh and cold, Tommy had his mask on at all times as Theseus, and in Las Nevadas, that only changed on the roof of the Casino. Everywhere else? He was surrounded by enemies.

The neutral ground of Las Nevadas was taken advantage of by the hero and villain community. It was there that they could have meetings without the worry of being attacked. That didn’t mean however, that they would be leaving with all their money. Las Nevadas scammed in other ways, though overall, the visit was worth each and every dollar paid to get through that gilded front gate.

Thankfully, HQ was paying for their entry into Las Nevadas today. The guard waved them past, black mask covering the entirety of their face, just like every other guard within the walls of Las Nevadas.

“Keeps things confidential,” Quackity had told Tommy on one occasion, “Who knows what some people would try to do if they met my guards outside Las Nevadas.

It was just Dream and Tommy today. Dream knew Tommy’s value, especially when it came to within the walls of Las Nevadas. When Dream brought Tommy, Quackity was much nicer to the man, otherwise, Dream would come back to Pogtopia and lock himself in his room, another failed deal with Quackity ruining yet another one of Dream’s plans to stop some villain heist.

Tommy loved this place, though every visit he made sure to keep his calm, keeping his excitement tucked away within his chest.

Dream had a different sentiment held towards Las Nevadas however. He was rigid, each step he took calculated. Where Tommy was air, flowing through Las Nevadas with no worries, Dream was water, movements smooth, one step out of line and he’d have caused a mess.

Eyes followed them as they walked past the entrance, some from the rich that Tommy recognized, there were a few vigilantes scattered here and there, but no villains in sight. Tommy wasn’t expecting there to be any villains, to be fair, but Las Nevadas was unpredictable, and Tommy was ready for just about anything.

The two heroes walked the smooth brick pathways of the place, Tommy marveling at the lights all around them, shining ten times as brightly in the nighttime compared to the day. Neon signs blinked in the corners of Tommy’s eyes, and he would’ve been a fool if he had thought those shadows he caught on the edges of his vision were anything less than spies. Tommy just really hoped they worked for Quackity.

News of who visits Las Nevadas spreads fast, especially at this time of the night when the underground of L’manberg was most active.

If one place didn’t quiet at their entrance, it was the Casino. Flashing lights reflected from every corner of the room, there was a faint smell of cigarettes floating through the air, and Tommy’s nose wrinkled under the mask. The halls were filled with people dressed in gold and diamonds, their jewelry reflecting the red, blue and yellow lights of the surrounding slot machines. Some of them wore masks, but most let their appearance free. Why wouldn’t you when you’re so rich you could pay everyone at the Casino enough to forget you were there at all.

When they reached the back of the Casino where the crowds thinned and the building turned into more of a dining area with secluded meeting rooms, Tommy wasn’t shocked to see Foolish.

Foolish was an odd one, and Tommy couldn’t say he knew much about the guy other than he designed and built the entirety of Las Nevadas alongside Quackity. He was powerful, that was to be sure. His skin was pure gold and his eyes were emeralds big enough to fit in your hand if you could pry them out of his golden skull. He always wore a hood that reminded Tommy of a shark, and that was the only covering on his face. Tommy didn’t think the man would need to wear any disguises if the only places he went were within the walls of Las Nevadas. His smile had shark’s teeth, each tooth pointed so sharp Tommy thought Foolish was preparing to bite him every time he opened his mouth to speak.

“Quackity is waiting for you.” Foolish told them, no introductions needed when they were only there for business. And though there was a smile on his face, Tommy felt his own features furrow. He and Deram glanced at one another before following the golden man into the next room.

There was a kind of unpredictability in Las Nevadas that Tommy could never really put his finger on. Maybe it was the people he came across in the Casino, maybe he just never expected who he saw. Tommy didn’t know, all he did know was that there was an unpredictability, and he could at least count on being surprised by that.

The bar was sparingly filled, and Tommy caught some looks from over shoulders as the people caught sight of them before leaning in closer to their companions, hushed whispers reverberating throughout the room.

When they reached the other side of the bar Foolish stopped at a yellow door, opening it, Tommy saw the door led to a long dimly lit hallway. Dream walked through, Tommy making his way behind him before he was stopped.

“Sorry kiddo,” The god-like man said, “Quackity said just Dream for today.”

Tommy frowned, “Well that doesn’t seem like something Quackity would say.”

Even Dream took a few steps out from the doorway, giving Tommy the lightest tap on the shoulder, a follow my lead motion they had gone over a million times before. “What do you mean Quackity just wants me and not both of us?” The man asked, his voice turning lower against the voice changer of his mask.

Foolish shrugged, gesturing towards the door. He didn’t seem at all phased by the dangerous tone of Dream’s voice, not like Tommy was. “I was just told that this wasn’t a conversation for his ears.” He said, opening the door a bit wider.

Dream stood still for another moment by Tommy’s side, and for a second Tommy thought he was going to say something, but with a look at Tommy, Dream gave him the slightest nod.

Tommy nodded back, though he couldn’t say he didn’t feel the smallest hint of disappointment. One, he wasn’t allowed into whatever meeting Dream was having with Quackity and it may be important, and two, Tommy wasn’t even going to be able to see his friend unless the man asked for him after his meeting with Dream.

Dream walked through the door once again, and Foolish shot Tommy a glance at that, “Quack man said you have free reign of the place Theseus, you can walk around as long as you don’t try and break into any locked rooms or intentionally start fights.” Oh, Quackity knew Tommy too well.

He waved Foolish off, and the man smiled, closing the yellow door behind him and Dream. Tommy was left alone in the bar area of the Casino, so he made the most of his time and sat over at the bar. No one knew his age, I mean, Tommy’s age yes, but Theseus? Theseus was believed to be anywhere between twenty one and twenty five because of his height and skills, and Tommy used that to his full advantage whenever in Las Nevadas. It wasn’t like Quackity was about to go around telling people his age, and neither was Dream, or any other hero out there.

So, Tommy sat at the bar and ordered a drink, like any other normal teenager would do when put under the massive amount of stress as he was, or given this opportunity. And Quackity put all the drinks Tommy got for himself on his own tab so it wasn’t like Tommy had to pay either.

The black masked bartender, obviously familiar with Tommy, set a drink in front of him. Tommy always got this, or, Quackity had gotten it for him once, as bad influences did, and the bartender just always gave the drink to him.

Thankfully for Tommy, his masks always had a feature where they would open up at the bottom so he could drink without any of his features being revealed. He would normally use it to drink water while out on patrol with Dream, but this was also a plus he thought, downing the drink.

The room buzzed with secret conversation, the hum of talk a tune of its own in hushed whispers and sneaky glances. It was familiar, the calculated moves, doing everything to the point no one knew what was really going through his head.

He liked that, he liked when he was predictable to himself especially.

He didn’t let memories of a wounded villain crowd his mind. He didn’t let the shaking breaths and tight grips of someone so close to death swarm his memories. He refused to allow himself to remember that man, so human, so vulnerable, so fragile, laying on the icy collapsed ground, moments away from death.

No, why would Tommy let himself think of a moment like that? A moment where he himself thought his own actions to be unpredictable.

The man was evil. That was a fact plain as day. Siren is evil, the sky is blue, and the grass is green. Cold. Hard. Facts.

Siren is evil, the sky is blue, the grass is green, and Tommy had saved his life.

Cold.

Hard.

Facts.

Tommy downed another drink from his glass, shoving the thoughts from his head. Now was not the time to think about the mistake Tommy had made in healing Siren from death.

I regret it, Tommy told himself, grip tightening on the glass in front of him, mumbled voices of the bar fading together into one singular solid ring of tone snaking through his ears and behind his eyes.

Tommy could tell himself all he wanted, that didn’t make it true.

Someone settled next to Tommy at the bar, it only took a glance and a flash of gold and gray for Tommy to go back to his drink.

“Foolish.” Tommy supplied in greeting, opening the ground for conversation with the man. Tommy knew that if he had stayed silent Foolish would have followed suit, and Tommy didn’t think he could handle the silence right now, not with the thoughts crowding his mind.

After a moment of waving down the black masked bartender Foolish replied. “Tommy, How are you finding this fine night?”

Not really a question. Tommy could feel the exhaustion seeping off of Foolish from his hunched form, Tommy could relate to the feeling.

“Quackity kicked you out too?” Tommy questioned, knowing that usually the man would make Foolish stand outside the meeting room door if not inside with him for any kind of support he needed. Tommy was just disappointed he had sent both of them away.

Foolish huffed, taking the glass the bartender set in front of him in between his palms. “After what happened to Slime I can’t really blame him.”

Tommy’s shoulders slumped at the words. Slime, Charlie, Quackity had called him so fondly afterward, had been one of the only victims on Las Nevadas property where the perpetrator was able to escape the grounds before Quackity killed them himself.

The incident had taken place about a month ago now, and Quackity refused to talk to anyone about it. Charlie was, well, a slime and he had been by Quackity’s side since the man created Las Nevadas. The slime had been a friend to Quackity, naive, sure, but to Quackity he was everything. To Quackity he represented pure innocence in every form it came. Charlie was built of fun and curiosity and joy. He did not keep his heart guarded but rather showed it off to everyone he met. He was impossible to hate.

But nothing good can last, and with the grudges others held against Quackity, Slime was put in danger.

It was a meeting much like this one if Tommy remembered right. A month ago a mercenary Quackity hired came in for a meeting with the man. However Quackity had done one thing or another to piss the guy off previously, and he only came into the meeting to take his own revenge.

Slime… well he hadn’t made it out in one piece. Quackity had called Tommy in to see if he could do anything to fix Charlie, but he couldn’t. Charlie wasn’t human, his body didn’t function in the same ways theirs did. He didn’t even function like a hybrid, he was just slime, and there was nothing Tommy could do to help him.

Tommy rarely saw Quackity break down, he would never expect it. The man ran the largest establishment in all of L’manberg, he got his hands dirty in his own work every day. His emotions were locked in a chest and held tightly by Quackity’s heart. But it was that night that Quackity cried. At the news that there was nothing Tommy could do to help, Quackity had buried his face and Tommy’s shoulder and sobbed himself dry.

The man was so strong in Tommy’s eyes, a scar that reached from his eye to his mouth did anything but make the man look soft. But in the comfort of Charlie’s room, with just the two of them and the unconscious slime lying on the bed, too far from being able to be healed, Quackity had let himself go.

Tommy didn’t know how long the two of them stood in that room, Quackity letting himself grieve, and Tommy there as an anchor to reality. By the end of it, Quackity waved Tommy off so he could sit with Charlie in the silence of his room and just let himself feel for this loss.

Tommy hadn't seen Charlie since, though he was sure the Slime still resided in the room Quackity set aside for him. Tommy knew without a doubt the man visited Charlie every day, and kept him well cared for despite his state.

So when the owner of Las Nevadas kicked out the people close to him in the midst of meetings… Tommy understood.

Foolish drew him from his thoughts, “I wouldn’t be surprised you know,” He began, taking another drink from his glass, “If he asked you to come stay here with us, somewhere he could keep an easy eye on you.”

Tommy wouldn’t be surprised either if he was being honest. Quackity would never force him to stay here, but he would ask him persistently until he broke down. That or he would have Tommy do regular check-ins with him or Foolish.

“Especially with everything going on within the villain circles, I really wouldn’t be surprised if he already had a room here prepared for you.”

Tommy frowned, eyes darting to Foolish, “What’s going on in the villain circles that has Quackity worried?” He questioned, the news new to him.

Foolish shrugged, lowering his voice, those emerald eyes checking the people in their immediate surroundings. “They say Siren is looking for you.”

The room stilled.

What.

What.

Tommy kept his voice steady, eyes darting to the people scattered throughout the room, all of whom’s eyes were trained everywhere but Tommy and Foolish. “Siren? Looking for me?” He didn’t know why he was surprised, why should he be?

“Why do you think that would be?” Tommy stated, voice steady.

Siren was far from innocent, far from a good person, even. There were several moments where Tommy would wake up from his sleep in a cold sweat, tears running down his face as he could still feel the cold of his own knife digging into his throat, his breath held with the thought that a single movement would be the end of him. Most things Siren did gave Tommy nightmares, and the villain’s search for him wouldn’t help in the slightest, they stuck to him like a sickly sweet honey, crawling across his skin and down his throat.

Siren had told him to hold his own knife to his throat. Tommy had been fearful then, eyes wide and mind running with adrenaline. He was miles away from any of his companions, and even farther away from a place where he could call for help.

But The Blade had stopped Siren then, with a simple hand on his shoulder, the man let go of all control of Tommy, allowing him to collapse to the floor, eyes wide, fear dripping from his skin like salt water. They left, and he was found hours after by Dream who had scooped him up in his arm and whispered thanks into Tommy’s hair because he was alive.

“I don’t know.” Foolish said, pushing his glass in front of him, “I don’t think anyone does, he’s just looking for you and he won’t tell anyone why.” He sighed, swirling the liquid in his glass with one hand on the rim, “Quackity has his shadows, I have mine, even Pogtopia has theirs, but still nothing. We were hoping you had a reason as to why.” The man gave Tommy an expectant look.

There was no way Foolish was asking this of his own accord, Quackity had to have told him to bug Tommy about it. It was mighty gossip between heroes and villains whenever one had a personal vendetta against another.

Tommy just set his lips into a thin line beneath his mask and shook his head in a lie. “I can’t think of anything, the last time the two of us fought was in the ice districts and a building collapsed on us, I haven’t seen him since.” The truth, to an extent.

Tommy wasn’t going to tell anyone about that night with Siren, weather it be out of shame or pure honor, he refused to tell secrets that were between the two of them, and if Siren hadn’t told anyone why he was after the mighty Theseus, Tommy believed the man had the same train of thought.

Still, Tommy couldn’t help but feel the fear seeping down his spine like a snake.

Tommy had too many encounters with Siren not to be scared, but Tommy guessed that didn’t matter now. Tommy knew more now, more than when he walked into Las Nevadas earlier that day.

“Speaking of Slime,” Tommy changed the subject, “Any updates on him?”

It was a sh*t change of subject, but by the way Foolish perked up, Tommy didn’t think the man minded.

“We’ve been doing more research, and we’ve found a few things, we just need the time to test them out before continuing.”

Tommy nodded, running his nails over the smooth surface of the bar. All fears aside, he couldn’t wait until Charlie got better, he missed the guy. He was always so full of energy in their tired world, and seeing him before the accident always raised Tommy’s spirits.

He was sure that was the same for everyone else who knew the slime as well.

Foolish and Tommy exchanged easy conversation for the next half an hour before Dream appeared behind the two of them, startling Tommy with his sudden appearance.

Foolish, as he did, offered to walk the two heroes to the front gate of Las Nevadas, an offer that was quickly refused by Dream, though Tommy could hear the smile in the man’s voice as he waved Foolish goodbye.

It was only once they were out of the Casino with its ringing bells and bright lights that Tommy spoke. “Quackity not interested in seeing me today?” He questioned, though there was a joke behind his words. It was a rare day indeed when Quackity waved off Tommy when it came to his visits to Las Nevadas.

Dream shrugged, a little laugh behind his next words though it seemed forced. So the meeting hadn’t gone great. “He said I should get you back to Pogtopia.” Dream stated, gaze forward. After a moment, he went on, Tommy keeping silent by his side. “I’m sure Foolish told you but there have been some… developments when it comes to the villain rings in L’manberg,” A slight pause, and it was just quiet enough outside for Tommy to catch the sound of his own breath hitching.

He knew, so did Dream, “With Siren.” Tommy confirmed, looking forward, the gilded gates of Las Nevadas coming into view behind the fountain ahead of them.

It merely took the slightest nod from Dream for Tommy to know they were on the same page. “You won’t be able to go out anywhere without me or another hero from HQ.” Dream stated, ever the planner, “Until this whole thing blows over, and we don’t know how long that would be, you’ve got to be careful.”

He paused his stride, the gilded gates right in their sights, Tommy stopped at his side, turning his full attention to his mentor at the sudden halt in movement.

“I think for now, however, you should spend the next week off duty.” Dream’s voice was firm, and Tommy pursed his lips together. He didn’t approve, but when Dream got like this, there was no changing his mind or bending his decisions and Tommy wasn’t about to try again. “Stay at work, or stay at your home. While you’re off the streets those will be the safest places for you.”

Tommy was about to open his mouth to argue, to state that the safest place for him would be with Dream and the other heroes in Pogtopia, not halfway across the city in a residential neighborhood, but before he could get a word out, Dream rose a hand stopping him.

“I thought even today was too soon to get you back working after you tired out your body for two days from the ice district fight, this is just another excuse of mine to keep you in perfect condition.” He let out a sigh, and Tommy just knew Dream could practically see the face he was pulling from under his mask. “Let me worry, Theseus.” He stated, resting a hand on the boy’s shoulder, and the name reminded Tommy that it wasn’t just the two of them having their own conversation. They were still in the middle of the streets of Las Nevadas, people parting around them like they were stones in water.

Tommy took the movement to look into Dream’s mask, eyes darting from one painted eye of his mask to the next as if he could see the man’s face behind.

The fight drained from Tommy as he felt Dream’s grip tighten on his shoulder in the most minuscule way. Dream was scared, and Tommy could understand. He knew the way both of them looked at Siren, he knew how powerful the villain was, and he knew that Dream was taking this as seriously as possible, not willing to lose a healer to the villains of L’manberg, and definitely not willing to lose Tommy to Siren.

With a deep breath through the nose and an exhale through the mouth, Tommy nodded. That was the only confirmation Dream needed to continue out the gates of Las Nevadas, Tommy always right by his side.

Chapter 6: Sunsets set in blood

Chapter Text

TW: negative looks at mental health (help specifically)

Tommy jumped as a stack of books was slammed in front of him on the desk.

The next words came smoothly, in a mocking tone. “I thought you only worked afternoons, it’s pretty late into the day.” Tommy looked over his monitor, a hand held over his quick beating heart from the scare. He glared as soon as he saw the person on the opposite side of the desk from him.

“f*ck off, Wilbur.” Tommy stated, hands going back to furiously type on the keyboard in front of him. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

Wilbur raised an eyebrow. The library was mostly empty today, though a few high school seniors could be heard, their laughter echoing throughout the quiet library. The sound of birdsong snaked through the open windows, a slight breeze entering the library, carrying with it the smell of summer.

Today Tommy wasn’t alone working at least, a couple of his coworkers sat receiving new library books downstairs, quietly entering each one into the system in movements of tranquility, every once and a while Tommy caught a hint of laughter from one of them or another that settled a kind of working peace over the building.

Dream wouldn’t let him go to work here if there was no one else working today, Tommy knew that. With Boomer downstairs, Tommy knew at the slightest hint of trouble they would call up Dream.

“A bit on edge today are we?” Wilbur smiled, that dumb grin he always had resting on his features like a taunt.

Tommy waved a hand through the air dismissing the question. He was, but that's besides the point, and it was nothing he was about to confide in Wilbur of all people.

He hadn’t seen anyone from Pogtopia in two days, and just the thought of them sharpened his senses to how completely alone he felt here in the library, so far away from them. Dream said over a text that it was the best way to make sure Tommy wasn’t being tracked through Dream or any of the other heroes at HQ. The knowledge that Siren was after him had shaken Dream, shaken all of HQ really. They couldn’t afford to lose someone like Tommy, not when there were so many heroes who were close to death after fights. The city couldn’t function without them, and by proxy, it couldn’t function without Tommy.

Which was why it was stupid that Dream was keeping him away from Pogtopia.

“I am the edge bitch.” Tommy stated halfheartedly, fingers working on the computer to pull up the breaking news. He was hoping to get a glance of Dream even though he knew that the news wouldn’t be saying anything about the man until they got their most viewers later that night, the thought put Tommy further on that edge.

Wilbur leaned over the desk, taking a peek at Tommy’s monitor. This was the second time Wilbur had come in during one of Tommy’s shifts, third time if you count the first encounter when the two first met. He had come in the day before, doing the exact same thing with his books then as he did now: startling Tommy by slamming them on his desk, bastard. Though Tommy had easily hid his surprise the day before he’d be lying if he said it hadn’t surprised him then too. The less news he was getting directly from Dream, the more out of the loop he felt, and even though it had only been two days, Tommy’s fear was rising, and he felt out of control with his lack of knowledge.

With the constant checkups Foolish, Quackity, Dream, George and others had with Tommy, Tommy couldn’t help the anxiety that clawed at his chest like a caught beast trying to escape. It felt like they knew something was moments away from happening and still refused to tell Tommy what it was, even though it directly involved him.

“You’re a news person? I didn’t know you cared about current events.” Wilbur said, leaning on his elbows to get a better look at the screen, “A little bit of a Thunder story there isn’t it. You’re into heroes?”

Tommy laughed at that, mouse going to click out of the news tab. Nothing interesting was going on, and he said as much. “The real stories come on later, Thunder is just something they’re using to fill the time until something really newsworthy pops up.” He shrugged, ignoring the hero part of the question. His eyes went to meet Wilbur’s, the piercing brown reminding him of the dirt after rain. “So why are you here so often, I didn’t think you’d get enjoyment out of reading.”

It was a jab, an effort for Tommy to get back in his usual mood, but Tommy would be lying if he said the statement sounded anything but dry.

Wilbur, it seemed, picked up on it, the bastard. “Wow, you really are on edge.” He stated, pushing himself from the desk, that smile coming back to rest on his features in a taunt.

Tommy rolled his eyes, a tradition for every Wilbur visit he was starting to think. “What are you a psychologist? I’m fine, just…” He paused, thinking over the events of the past two days and biting his bottom lip at the thought, “Tired, you know how it is.”

That also wasn’t a lie. Tommy was waking up more and more frequently these past couple of nights, sweat cool on his skin and the taste of blood fresh in his mouth from where he had bit down on his tongue during his sleep. Funny, you’d think that pinching yourself or causing any pain to your body would draw you out of unconsciousness, not bring you deeper into your nightmares.

He had that more recently he was starting to notice. Not just the nightmares, but the pain. He would bite his tongue in his sleep every night and the pain would bring him into his dreams, become a part of them until He could see Siren’s eyes in his sleep, he could feel him grabbing his fingers, sliding scissors right up to the knuckles before snipping. Tommy almost shook at the thought of the nightmares, they had felt so real in the moment, so fear filled he couldn’t even think through his unconsciousness.

Tommy swore he could hear the crunch of bone in his waking hours now as the nightmares haunted him into the day from that night. He couldn’t list the number of times he had woken up to bloody sheets from biting his hands in his sleep in a half conscious desperate act to wake himself up from the never ending cold hearted fear.

Some had scarred, Tommy was noticing now, little white lines on his hands from his teeth. Maybe he should set an alarm to wake himself up in the middle of the night to make sure he didn’t do that again and give himself even deeper marks.

He was lucky his power was healing, he couldn’t imagine the reaction he would get from Dream should the man notice the scars one day. He’d probably send Tommy home, find him whatever mental help he could, and Tommy didn’t need that, he could deal with his problems very much on his own thank you. He wasn’t at the point where he needed a therapist, that was only for people who couldn’t handle their lives, and Tommy was doing just fine alone.

Wilbur’s nose scrunched up. “We can’t have that, immagine if my favorite librarian doesn’t get enough sleep. I couldn’t handle it if you had to stay home one day because you made yourself sick.” There was a joke in his voice and Tommy rolled his eyes at the thought.

The boy rested his chin on his folded hands, elbows propped up on the desk just below his keyboard. Wilbur wouldn’t understand, the prick, Tommy doubted he had the kind of nightmares Tommy did, waking up every night in a cold sweat, forgetting where you are and begging in your half conscious mind for someone that could draw him from the fear, for Dream.

If anything, Wilbur couldn’t understand the fear Tommy had for death.

“Like you would care if I stayed home for one day, we’ve only seen each other, what, three times total?” It was true, though something in Tommy felt like it was a lie. The previous time he had come in, which was the day before, Wilbur had set himself up at one of those circular tables in front of Tommy’s desk and practiced with his guitar for two hours.

Tommy would have said it was boring, or that the man was being too loud or annoying or something which had probably been WIlbur’s end goal, knowing the man, but with just the two of them in the library, Tommy’s only job being the need to sit at the desk and wait for patrons, there was no way the boy could stop him. Especially when the notes were so smooth and fast paced they slipped past all of Tommy’s defenses and into his chest. Tommy kept the softest part of the songs locked up in his memory, biting his tongue at any moment he nearly requested Wilbur play one of his favorite songs.

Today was different: there were actually people in the library, and Wilbur was being more annoying than he had been yesterday. “Didn’t bring your guitar today, old man?” Tommy chided, closing all the remaining tabs on his computer so he could direct his full attention to the man in front of him. It had been nice, yesterday, it was the one thing that has succeeded in drawing Tommy’s thoughts from Dream and HQ, the only thing that had worked in stopping Tommy from remembering his nightmares from that night.

The soft notes had put Tommy’s mind at ease, and Tommy had let them. Whatever songs Wilbur had played that day were the only things to draw Tommy’s mind from the constant fear of unknowing. He hated not knowing what was going on, but in those moments, Wilbur sat peacefully in the light chair next to the table, strumming whatever notes came to his mind. Tommy thought that maybe it would be okay that he didn’t know everything, he would be okay.

Wilbur gave him a smirk, sliding the books across the desk towards Tommy. “I didn’t think you liked it.” He stated, “And I did, it’s just in my car.”

Tommy snorted at that, pulling up the Phil Soot account on his computer and grabbing Wilbur’s first book, but Tommy was thankful to be brought out of his thoughts. “You can drive?” A roll of the eyes from Wilbur was all Tommy needed to keep going, sliding the rest of the books one after the other across the sensor, a chirp escaping the machine with each passing of a book. “Didn’t know you had the skills in you.”

“Well you’re not even old enough to drive so I shouldn’t be hearing you complain.” Wilbur bit back, laughter in his tone.

Tommy rolled his eyes, continuing with the books, because for some reason Wilbur had decided to get a sh*t ton today.“I can drive.” he defended, the jab sounding far more tired than he expected it too, “I just don’t have a car, those things are expensive, what are you, rich?”

The older man let out a huff as Tommy finished checking out his books, setting them on the desk in front of him. “You don’t drive to work?” He questioned, taking the books Tommy slid back to him, receipt curled on top of the stack.

Tommy logged off Phil’s account, turning fully to Wilbur and raising an eyebrow, “I actually get exercise bitch, I run.” A smile spread across Tommy’s face, the chance to poke fun at Wilbur, the opportunity too open to not take up. “Do you drive everywhere because you hate walking, you seem like the type.”

“Oh, ha, ha.” Wilbur replied. “For your information, I am very athletic.” It sounded like a defense but Tommy just waved it off, going back to his computer.

“Sure, and you definitely look like you work out.” Tommy bit back, smile on his lips. His eyes went back to his computer, ready to go back to whatever made up work he was doing.

Wilbur waved it off, sitting down at the circular table closest to Tommy by the desk. “I promise you, I am jacked beneath all these sweaters, one day you’ll witness me in my full awesome power.”

Tommy snorted, “Sure Will, as soon as I see how ‘strong’ and ‘muscular’ you are, I’ll sh*t my pants.” He said the words with air quotations, “because that day will definitely come.”

Wilbur waved him off, opening one of his books on L’manberg and beginning to read “Don’t tell you I didn’t warn you that I’m jacked.”

Silence engulfed the two and Tommy found some work to do on the library computer, work he liked to call deleting all the old and useless files or archiving them. Every once and a while Wilbur would start up some conversation or another, apparently more comfortable in speech than silence. Eventually the seniors left the library, leaving just Tommy and Wilbur on the upper floor.

Tommy took a deep breath and turned his eyes to the park outside. A couple walked their dog, engaging in a silent but expressive conversation. Some kids were tossing around a red frisbee, one barely catching the thing and the other throwing it easily out of the his reach.

It was a calm day at the park, and Tommy appreciated the look of the golden clouds floating far above the city in their dance through the sky. The sun would be setting soon, it always took forever to set in the summer, by the time Tommy left the library at nine it would still be a little bright out, so different from the winter times where the sun would set at its earliest at four in the afternoon, waving L’manberg a goodbye from beyond those far off oceans.

Tommy felt a wave of want wash over him of the thought of the sunset, remembering all those times he and Quackity would sit on the roof of Las Nevadas and just watch as the last lights of the sun faded over the far off horizon, lighting up the ocean in a spur of a million lights before finally vanishing, letting the night dance in, stars twinkling to life with every passing second.

What was it, eight? Tommy’s eyes drifted back to the computer clock, and sure enough, the time read seven fifty three. He and Wilbur had been sitting there for what, an hour now? An hour and a half? Comfortable silence only broken by the occasional conversation from Wilbur.

The slam of a book caused Tommy’s heart to stop for a moment, the second time that day he had felt fear like that. His eyes snapped up, meeting Wilbur’s.

“You have to stop doing that you absolute asshole.” Tommy stated, eyes going right back to the park.

“Scared of loud noises?” Wilbur asked, no mockery behind the words.

Tommy wrinkled his nose, frowning before looking back at the man, “No, you said it yourself earlier, I’m on edge.”

“Still?” Wilbur questioned, setting his book down on the table.

Tommy wasn’t about to talk about this with Wilbur of all people. Despite their comfortable conversation and sibling-like jabs at one another, Tommy had only really seen Wilbut three times in total.

Tommy blocked the thought from his mind that it had only taken two conversations between his and Quackity for the two of them to become best friends.

“Here.” Tommy began, standing from his desk chair, ignoring that familiar tug of unknowing that came from every thought of the hero world, “I want to show you something.”

Wilbur raised an eyebrow but followed as Tommy waved him behind the desk. They walked into the crowded back hallway behind the front desk, Wilbur following slightly behind Tommy at a close enough space to step on his shoes. He looked around the room with an interest Tommy didn’t think he had seen from the man before.

“Where are we–” WIlbur began, but Tommy cut him off.

“SHHH” The sound was sharp, and by far much louder than Wilbur’s own words. Tommy glanced further down the hallway checking for any sign of his coworkers, though he knew they were all still packed downstairs, and rarely came up. “I’m supposed to be at the desk, you’re going to get us caught.”

Wilbur shrugged, amusem*nt on his face, and the two of them continued throughout the halls. After a few twists and turns they came upon a ladder in an otherwise empty room. Tommy didn’t hesitate before beginning to climb it, unlatching the hatch at the top and swinging it open. A glance down told him Wilbur wasn’t following after him, but with a little wave of his hand he began to climb up the ladder behind Tommy, confusion littering his features.

Tommy was the first to emerge onto the roof, the ladder clanking on his final two steps. The clanking that followed told Tommy Wilbur was right behind him. Wordlessly Tommy walked to the edge of the roof, sitting down and letting his legs dangle in the twilight warmth of summer.

Wilbur settled beside him, following Tommy’s gaze to the horizon. “Don’t you have a job to do?” Wilbur asked, elbowing Tommy’s side. A soft laugh escaped Tommy’s lips at that, and he turned back forward, eyes on a cloud with a golden outline, the sun just beginning to peek its head out from under it. “It’s late in the day, I doubt anyone will be coming in for the last half hour when the library is open.”

Wilbur looked back at the horizon, folding his legs in a criss cross beneath him. “You’re not going to push me off the roof are you? I’ve come to annoy you just a bit too much here at your job that you’d just want to be done with me?”

Tommy cringed back at the words, ignoring the part of him that thought he heard genuine seriousness in the tone, no matter how faint it was, “Do I want to shove you off the roof of a building? Will, listen to yourself.” He shook his head, swinging his legs beneath him, the backs of his shoes hitting the side of the building in dull thunks. “I don’t think I would shove anyone off a roof, why? Were you thinking of doing it to me and just decided to ask the opposite because I definitely look like I’d shove you off the roof?”

Wilbur stayed silent, and Tommy thought for a moment the man had really been thinking about shoving him off the roof, but with a glance in Wilbur’s direction, Tommy caught the smile on his face. “I don’t think I’d even shove the person I hate most in the world off a roof,” Wilbur stated, lying down on his back against the flat of the building, arms crossed under his head, “Much less you, Tommy.”

Tommy let his mouth stretch into a smile, “Really? You wouldn’t shove the person you hate the most off a roof?” Tommy laid down on his back next to him, folding his hands neatly over his stomach. “I think if I were to shove anyone off a roof, I would shove President Schlatt.” There was no real hesitance in the words, though the joke was clear in his tone.

A surprised laugh escaped out of Wilbur, and Tommy himself let out a laugh of his own at the reaction.

“You would shove President Schlatt off of a building? Not some school bully? Or I don’t know, villain?” Laughter traced Wilbur’s voice and he tilted his head, meeting Tommy’s eyes in the process.

“No, villains are just villains, bullies are bullies, but Schlat is the one who allows people to starve in the streets,” Tommy pursed his lips, tearing his eyes from Wilbur’s and looking into the golden clouds of the sky above the two of them. “I’ve seen a lot of people die under Schlatt’s presidency, and he doesn’t do anything about it, so yeah, I would choose Schlatt out of everyone in the world.”

Wilbur didn’t say anything, the two of them continuing to look up into the golden sky, patches of blue appearing here and there across the cloud filled expanse.

This was peaceful, Tommy thought, civilian life. How nice it was to be able to sit on the roof of some library far from the center of the city just to watch golden marshmallows of light drift through the air, no worries on their backs.

Was this how normal people felt? Spending most of their days doing their homework in a library or walking their dog in a park? Tommy couldn’t see himself doing that. For the rest of his life he would be chasing that adrenaline high through the streets, moments away from death, blood spattered at his ever moving feet.

No, that life was too soft, too kind for Tommy, he didn’t think that whatever god ruled this world would allow such a life for Tommy, that’d be too nice.

“What are you thinking about?” The voice was low, soft, almost lost in the rustling of the leaves of the trees far below in the park.

Tommy’s mouth formed a thin line, and he ran his thumb over the white scars he knew were on his hands after long lights of nightmares and hatred. The world seemed so loud all around them, and Tommy hated the way he could feel Wilbur’s eyes on him as his mind looped back to whatever god of the land had cursed him to live in the way he did.

“I don’t know.” Tommy lied, “Thoughts just go so fast through my head, it’s my genius showing through.”

Wilbur chuckled, “I was thinking about food.” He stated, the words earning the most surprised laugh from Tommy.

“Food?” Tommy questioned, sitting up and leaning back on the palms of his hands, “Now?”

Wilbur shook his head, “I’m hungry! I’ve been sitting in the library next to some troll for two hours.”

“Well,” Tommy began, Wilbur sitting up at his side, “An hour and a half, but who’s really counting.”

Wilbur snorted, looking out at the mass of trees below them. The park was to their right, and in front of them just sat a mass of trees, all untamed and wild. There, evergreen pines were swaying in the slight breeze.

“Look Tommy–” Wilbur began saying, before the boy interrupted him.

“Give it a sec, Will, look!” The excitement showed clearly in his voice, and an almost boyish laugh escaped his chest.

The sun began to peek out from behind the golden lined cloud, just barely touching the horizon. If Tommy looked hard enough, he swore he could see the white walls of Las Nevadas below that bright lining of the sun on the horizon, so far away, all the way across the city from them at the library.

Wilbur’s eyes caught the light of the sun, and for a moment the man looked like he was glowing. “You wanted to show me this?” Wilbur asked, voice soft in the light air, though his eyes never left the horizon except to blink away the blinding light.

Tommy nodded, happiness running through his veins so freely, he would have forgotten that he had a life outside of this one, so calm and tranquil compared to the rushes of fear and adrenaline further out on the street. “I used to do this a lot, with my friends.” He stated, eyes blinking away the brightness of the half set sun. “But they got busier and busier. I just rarely got the chance to catch this.” He didn’t let his eyes leave the setting sun, the brightness burning into his mind in the millions of memories he had of the very same sunset before.

Wilbur looked off into the sunset, the sun crawling further and further over the horizon. “You didn’t want to watch it alone.” he said, voice soft against the breeze. Tommy let himself nod, the motion feeling like an admission of guilt.

Tommy didn’t hate being alone, he liked it to an extent. But, there was something just so lonely about sitting on the roof of the library as his shift came to a close, watching the last rays of sunlight dip past the city without anyone else there with him.

He had to admit, he made a lot of traditions with lots of different people by watching the sunset, in reality, it was just Tommy’s favorite pastime. When he was on the streets before Dream picked him up he would break onto the roofs of apartment buildings, swinging himself around those closed ladder hatches to crawl up to the highest height he could to see them. It was during those times that Tommy would pull out an old portable cassette player and two cassette tapes he had found hidden in an old abandoned building once while looking for a place to stay.

They were pre recorded original songs, the artist of which Tommy could never find. They were probably long gone or long dead given the current state of L’manberg.

The tapes were named, the first, written in black sharpie over a fading green paint read “Cat” and the other, black on striped purple and white read “Mellohi”. Tommy still listened to those tapes when he got the chance, lying in his room, noise silenced from all sides as he slid in one tape or the other to listen to the melodic tunes by a person now long gone.

The last rays of the sun peeked over the horizon, and within the second, the land was plunged into darkness, the light of the set sun on the clouds the only thing lightning up the darkened earth.

Tommy stood from his spot after a moment, bringing his legs back over the edge of the roof. He had never shown anyone those tracks, not even Dream. He held them close to his heart, a reminder that he’s not the only one alone in this world.

“We should get back down now.” He said, turning to help Wilbur stand. He didn’t want to spend another minute up here, not with the thoughts of times long gone crawling through his brain like bugs.

Wilbur nodded, taking Tommy’s hand as the boy helped him into a standing position.

They made their way back into the library, Tommy latching the hatch to the roof behind them.

“How often do you do that?” Wilbur questioned, following Tommy back through the hallways of the library, the two emerging at the front desk moments later, the room just as they had left it. Wilbur’s books still sat in a messy array all over the circular table.

Tommy shrugged, taking a seat on the dest as opposed to at his chair. “Whenever I feel like it, do you not do things because you feel like it?”

Wilbur sat at his table and looked over his books, running his hands over one of their covers. “Of course I do.” He defended, eyes continuing to stick on his book, “You just seem like the kind of person who would do what you wanted a lot, not really caring for what others think of you for it.”

Tommy thought for a moment, pulling out his phone to check for any messages from HQ or Dream specifically, he had left it on his desk in an attempt to keep from paying attention to it and not the sunset. When his phone showed no notifications he set it back down, “I do whatever I want whenever I want.” He stated, leaning forward on his palms, “And I do it for myself because I’m just the best.”

Wilbur chuckled, gathering his books in his arms, a queue, Tommy understood, because Wilbur was heading out now. Tommy stood from his desk making his way back to the work side of it, sliding down into his chair. It was best to get some work done before he headed back home, it’s not like he would be doing anything there, so why not get the most he can done here while he had the chance to fill his time with something.

Wilbur’s next words surprised Tommy, and the boy had to do a double take on the words. “Maybe we could do it again tomorrow, it’s not often I get to see the sunset.” Tommy’s eyes met Wilbur’s at the words, a smile on the other man’s face. “I’ll bring my guitar up too and I could play some songs.”

It was a question, an offer. Tommy raised an eyebrow, deciding to take up Wilbur’s offer if not push it a little further. “And then maybe we could go eat, my favorite place is just down the street.”

He was interesting, Tommy would be lying if he said he wasn’t fascinated by the man, if he didn’t think for one moment that maybe, just maybe, it was nice having someone outside his usual circle to speak to. If the library was something to remind Tommy that normal people did exist, then Wilbur would be a reminder that there were real, actual, people out there, people with their own lives and personalities, people who weren’t out every minute of every day to hit to kill, or strike to poison.

Wilbur could be Tommy’s reminder that there was indeed life outside of fights, and wounds beyond healing. He could remind Tommy that there was something outside of that hateful world, and it was because of that thought that Tommy bit his lip, wishing with all of his being that Wilbur would say yes.

Wilbur pursed his lips, and Tommy’s heart sank at the motion. He had seen that look before, he knew what it meant. Maybe it was best to cut off any plans before he got too invested in them. “Or not, people get busy over the summers.” He didn’t let the disappointment show on his face, he should have known Wilbur was busy too, just like Dream and George and Sapnap usually were. Most people were busy these days.

“I’d love to.” Wilbur supplied to Tommy, letting the books in his hands hang at his sides, “I’d just have to tell my dad that I’ll be home later than usual.”

Okay, Tommy will be honest. He wasn’t expecting that one.

“What,” He began, forcing a smirk onto his features through the disbelief, “You’re just going to put away some previous plans because little library boy asked you to his favorite restaurant?”

Wilbur’s head tilted to the side, “It’s not every day the annoying kid down the street needs a friend to go with him to eat because he’s too scared to order food by himself, so yeah, I can move around some of my plans for you.” A mischievous smile came over Wilbur’s face, and he stalked toward the desk, “Besides,” His voice was low in the empty library and Tommy chose to just raise an eyebrow at the man, “You’re an interesting one, Tommy, I would move a lot of my plans to learn more about you.” He leaned forward more, voice lowering to the point where Tommy had to lean closer to hear, “I want to figure you out because I just can’t understand you.”

The boy met Wilbur’s eyes, raising an eyebrow. “I think I’m very easy to understand.” Tommy stated, a bit of defiance leaking into his tone, “But hey, if you’re down, I guess you’ll be paying for our food tomorrow.” Tommy pushed away the creeping feeling that someone wanted to know him and continued. “It’s not expensive, or at least I don’t think it would be for someone who owns a car like you.”

Wilbur laughed at that, the sound bouncing through the library in a joyous sound. “Just because I own a car, doesn’t mean I’m rich.” He said, smile sticking on his face in all of the laughs, “But I’ll pay, just for the sake of you and your minimum wage job.”

Letting out a grumble under his breath, Tommy smiled at the thought.

Wilbur left the library soon after, giving Tommy a wave goodbye with a promise to see him the next day.

***

The walk home from the library felt longer than it ever had to Tommy. The summer breeze felt so much colder in the night and there was an absence of sound from the streets

It wasn’t that late into the night, but still, the way the streetlights lit the road ahead of Tommy was eerie. The bus stop wasn’t far from his house, but still the walk from it to the lobby of his apartment complex felt like miles in the dark. Tommy’s anxiety was doing nothing to help either. With the limited contact he had with Dream or anyone at HQ really, Tommy was on edge. If Wilbur thought Tommy was on edge earlier, it was nothing compared to Tommy now.

His eyes darted around every corner, a crashing sound came from one of the spaces between two darkened apartment buildings and a cat rushed past Tommy, a hiss on it’s tongue. Tommy had to catch his breath after the startle the cat gave him, leaning against the wall of a nearby building.

Maybe this was too much. Maybe Tommy should ask Dream to let him stay in Pogtopia until all of this blows over. Sure he loved his work at the library, but how worth it was walking through life with this kind of tenseness.

The boy closed his eyes, taking a deep breath through his nose, sliding down the wall of the building until he was sitting on the dirty ground, face pressed into his hands, and knees pulled close to his head. He just needed a moment, things would get better in a second, Tommy just needed a second to breathe it out.

Somewhere across the street Tommy heard another loud clanking noise and a sharp hiss. The cat was finding someone else to torment with its loud movements and sharp noise.

Tommy took another deep breath, letting his body sink into a rhythm of breathing in and out. Eventually he fished his phone from his pocket, dialing a familiar number into the phone and pressing call. He pushed himself up from the wall of the building, listening to the methodical ringing of the line.

The phone clicked and then there was slight silence.

“Tommy?” The voice crackled but it was so clearly Dream, Tommy nearly let out a sigh of relief but his breath got caught in his throat. He could feel a lump in his throat rising at just the sound of his friend’s voice.

“Dream.” Tommy let out, hoping to dear god that his voice didn’t sound as weak to Dream as it did to him.

There was some background noise for a second before the sound faded, “Tommy? What’s up, are you alright?” Tommy closed his eyes, it was the first time he had heard Dream in days, and just with a few words the boy could feel the built up tension from the past few days draining from his body.

“Yeah,” Tommy confirmed, taking one more deep breath, “Yeah, just got scared on the way home by an alley cat.”

Relief flooded through the other’s voice at the confirmation that Tommy was okay, “That’s good, that's good,” There was a slight background noise and then a mumbling from Dream before the man came back, “I can’t stay for long Tommy, but what’s up? You want me to stay on the line until you get home?”

The word ‘no’ sat thinly on the edge of Tommy’s mouth, but he hesitated, eyes traveling up and down the street. It took another yowl from the cat for Tommy to speak up, “It that’s okay.” He said, beginning to make his way back down the road.

Dream let out a little hum. “I’m not worried, you live in a safe neighborhood, and it’s easy for me or someone else near the area to get there fast if anything happens.” The man paused for a moment, “Which it won’t.”

Tommy huffed at that, checking over his shoulder as he walked down the streets, not more than a block away from his apartment building. “Nice way of cheering me up asshole.” Tommy joked back, tension leaving his voice at the laugh Dream supplied back to him.

There was mumbling in the back of the phone call, and then more, the line going silent for a moment, two.

“Dream?” Tommy asked, a sigh on his breath as his apartment complex came into view.

“Tommy,” Dream stated, back, annoyance in his voice Tommy knew wasn’t aimed towards him, “I have to go, I’m really sorry, text me when you get inside okay?” The man waited for a little hum in response from Tommy to hang up the phone, a quiet “Be safe Tommy.” Before the line clicked.

The rest of the walk back to his apartment went by quickly. Tommy knew Dream was busy, the man rarely even had time to himself, even while Tommy was there.

He sighed at his door, unlocking the thing, taking in the familiar squeak of the hinges as the door swung inward to his apartment. It was dark on the inside, but the loud noises of his neighbors, so familiar to his ears, welcomed him in.

Tiredness came easy to Tommy that night, though sleep dragged him into darkness and showed him no mercy.

Tommy had dreams of Siren that night, waking up once again to tears and bloodied sheets.

Chapter 7: Nightmares

Chapter Text

Sleep didn’t come easily to Tommy that night.

Between waking up to wet cheeks and bloodied hands, he decided half way through the night to just stay awake until the morning. Maybe sleeping with the sun up would come easier than in the cold and unforgiving dark and silence of the night.

Tommy sat on his sofa that night, the digital clock on the television stand reading 3:42 in those mockingly light blue numbers shining throughout the otherwise dark room. Tommy wished his neighbors were loud now. He wished any noise crept through the dank halls of the apartment complex, that the noise of cars on the streets far below his windows would come back so maybe, maybe he wouldn’t have to sit in this all consuming silence anymore.

He turned on his TV clicking on whatever the first movie Netflix suggested for him was and sat back against the soft pillows of his sofa, letting the light noise of the movie crowd through the room and across his mind.

He let the streaming service auto play the next movie, Tommy really only needing the light sound to fill his apartment so he didn’t feel so alone.

At five, Dream texted him, a normal morning text that the man would send any time Tommy spent the night away from Pogtopia. Dream didn’t wake up at five in the morning, rather, that was the time he went to sleep every night after his usual patrols. Tommy made sure to respond immediately, sending nothing more than a thumbs up back to the man, leaning back in the couch, eyes boring into the ceiling above.

Water dripped somewhere in Tommy’s bathroom, though his body just felt too tired to move up and turn whatever faucet was still on from the night before off.

Tiredness dragged at his bones, pulling the marrow and begging him to close his eyes and let unconsciousness take him over once again. But the memories of his nightmares came back, clawed fingers sliding over his unmasked face, and Siren, ever so still, ever so calculated, with his face covered in a black veil as it always was, gold snaking through the threads like vines and face completely invisible to Tommy.

The claws scratching against his face, and even in his dream he could feel the smile snaking across Siren’s features as he leaned in close to Tommy’s ear, his words sharp as an arrow yet soft like a brother.

“You saved me,” The words echoed through Tommy’s mind, “What a naive mistake for someone who will die by my hand.”

The world turned red, and even in sleep, Tommy could feel the sharp edges of Siren's claws ripping into his throat like Tommy was nothing but a scared animal and Siren a dog, bred to hunt and kill.

Fear gripped Tommy by the chest and he jerked up from the couch with sweat sticky on his face like it was fresh blood. He had fallen asleep again, the soft sound of the running television doing nothing to stop the fear from creeping up his chest and through his throat–

Tommy rushed to the bathroom, stumbling over his own socked feet as his vision tunneled from the too fast movement. The bathroom door slammed open and with a flick of the switch, the bright warm lights of the room flickered on, chasing away the vast darkness.

Tommy knelt by the toilet, hoping to dear god that the nightmares wouldn’t affect him as they did now in the morning.

Heavy breathing filled the air as Tommy pushed away the thoughts of sharp claws and faceless villains, their laughter echoing through his head even in the light of consciousness. It took him some time, but his breathing slowed down, the nauseousness that had lined his throat and his stomach ebbing away slowly but surely.

Resting his head on the cool porcelain of the toilet, Tommy begged in the back of his mind for the pain of death in dreams to go away.

But why would dreams listen to him?

***

Tommy didn’t get any more sleep that night.

He told himself that if he wasn’t going to sleep he was going to do something productive.

So he cleaned. He mopped the floor of his apartment, movies still playing quietly in the background, their noises echoing throughout the apartment as the world woke up around him. He did laundry, put the dishes from the dishwasher away, stacking new ones in the machine.

He wiped down the windows, dusted the counters, and rearranged furniture. Anything to keep his mind from thinking too much, anything to keep his brain on the present and nothing more.

The day went by slowly, each minute passing feeling like ten in Tommy’s exhausted state. Soon enough, however, eleven came, and Tommy let out a sigh of relief. He showered, put on his work clothes, blankly ignoring the now prominent white marks that littered his hands like fish in an overcrowded pond from his nights of nightmares. He finally put on his shoes and made his way out his front door, keys and wallet in hand.

He didn’t want to ride the bus to work today, didn’t want to give his brain the free time to think.

His body was tense, mind racing despite Tommy’s best efforts to not give it time. His hands shook at every noise that was made as he walked down the street, jumping at that damn cat again, crossing the path in front of him with a hiss, clearly black, now that Tommy saw the thing in the light of the day. He couldn’t say he liked the thing either.

Once he finally reached the library, hands shaking imperceptibly on the warmth of the sun soaked metal handle of the door, Tommy let out a breath he didn’t know he had been keeping in.

Today it was Hannah at the desk, writing something down in that rosy notebook of hers that she always brought around with her. She perked up at the sight of the teenager.

“Tommy!” She blurted, standing from the desk, looking around to that green dinosaur clock that hung on the wall behind the desk. With a frown she turned back to the boy, “You’re here really early, did you want to take up an early shift again?” She questioned, giving Tommy a concerned once over.

Tommy looked like sh*t. He knew he did. The second he had stepped out of the shower and looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, his reflection greeted him with dark bags beneath his eyes and a defeated look. Even his posture had screamed that he was too tired to stand.

He waved the woman off, walking around to the back of the desk and taking up his normal place. “Didn’t sleep well.” He supplied, “So I just decided to come in early.”

She pursed her lips, looking across the floor of the library. It was surprisingly full today, a mother and her son sat at the circular table that Wilbur usually sat at, each coloring in one of the coloring sheets the library gave out to visitors. From behind the bookshelves Tommy could hear the chatter of adults as their children explored the many books they had on display.

“Do you…” Hannah began, eyes drifting back to Tommy, “Want me to stay up here with you or should I go down and help Boomer with the new books?”

Tommy met her sparkling brown eyes, such a contrast to the absolute and complete exhaustion that he was sure was displayed in his own blue ones. He looked back to the library floor, a half sorted cart of books littering the side of the desk in a half attempt by Hannah to shelve. “I’ll be fine.” Tommy stated, his voice sounding more genuine in his ears than he was sure Hannah had heard it. “You go down and help Boomer, I’ll see you when you get off work.” He forced a smile onto his features, knowing full well that it probably looked more like a grimace to Hannah.

She nodded, waving him a goodbye and promising to bring him up tea before she left for the day.

Tommy didn’t let the loneliness of the upstairs crawl through his veins after Hannah made her way downstairs. He didn’t let it consume his mind when the mother and son left from their place at the table, or when the other parents brought their children to the front to check out their books at the self checkout waving him a hearty goodbye, their promises to one another to relax when they got home. He definitely didn’t let the loneliness consume his soul when Hannah peaked up the stairs, leaving a chamomile tea on the desk beside him with a ruffle of his hair.

How could he?

No, he wouldn’t feel the loneliness of the empty library in the afternoon choke his soul. He wouldn’t let it crawl up his spine or threaten to scratch it’s fine claws down his throat like it was a canvas it wished to paint red with his blood.

Why would he let such loneliness, and perhaps fear, consume him?

It was at six that Tommy’s eyes began to droop, he brought back the near done cart of books to the desk, slumping back into his chair and beginning his own work on the computer.

His eyes became heavy with every word that his eyes passed, the light of the sun through the skylight above doing nothing to combat the weariness of his fatigued body.

Perhaps if he just rested his eyes for a moment, just a moment, his mind would come back to him. Maybe his mind would have enough energy to end his shift in a few hours and take the bus home. Maybe, just maybe though, if he stayed awake until he reached his home, newly arranged in its fullness, he would be too tired to dream, and finally have his own night of peace.

His body betrayed him, the silence of the library dragging him into a pit of sleep, too deep for Tommy himself to climb from.

And claws reached for him from that darkness of exaustion, just as they had that night, pale hands turning into sharp black claws at the tips of their slender fingers, tracing his face like Tommy belonged to them.

“Don’t cry.” The voice said, metallic and low, that veil ever covering the villain’s eyes in a blatant taunt. Tommy couldn’t move, back pressed against something too firm for even him to hope to break down. He was alone there too, he would be wouldn’t he.

Shadows curled around him like smoke, shifting past his skin, their soft presence turning to full laughter at the boy before those claws wrapped around his throat like a claim on his life, they might as well have been.

And there was the voice again, sweet like honey on his straining ears and dripping from the villain’s mouth thickly. “Stay still.” The command took hold, and even here he sat, pain laced through his hand as Siren gripped it from his side, running those sharp nails against his calloused hands and breaking through his skin like it was paper. Tommy could feel the warmth of the blood that slipped down his fingers, but he couldn’t move his eyes to see it, that command from Siren never losing grip of Tommy’s consciousness.

Was this how he would do it? Siren? When he finally found Tommy? Would this be the last thing the boy saw? That dark veil, gold and red snaking through the fabric like it was blood in water.

A soft chuckle passed the man’s lips at Tommy’s stillness, Theseus’ stillness. And was that sweat or blood that pooled at Tommy’s hand, inching down his fingers like a creeping spider.

“Now,” The Villain began, voice impossibly soft through that metallic voice changer, “Scream as you die.”

So he did.

***

There was a bang and Tommy jerked from his sleep, nearly falling back in his chair, feeling the near break of a scream on the tip of his tongue. His eyes snapped open and he looked forward.

And there he was, Wilbur, in all of his goddamn arrogance. Tommy glared at the man, putting as much hatred as he could into the stare even though he was so glad to see him, so glad to have awoken from that nightmare, too much for his soul to handle even as he steadied his body on his chair, making sure he wouldn’t fall from it.

“Wilburrrrr…” Tommy let the name drag out, settling his head back into his hands, to avoid the gaze of the man in front of him and to settle down his too fast breathing and beating heart.

He was awake, Tommy was awake, and not in that dimension of dream that had kept his mind captive for… How long had he been asleep?

Tommy looked up, wiggling the computer mouse a few times for the monitor to light back up… Okay, so he had been asleep for long enough for his computer to completely shut off automatically. Tommy looked behind him then, to the green dinosaur clock on the wall, the hands pointing at 8 and 6. He turned back to Wilbur, defeat painted on his face, his mind blocking out all memories from the events just before Wilbut had shown up.

“It’s eight thirty.” Tommy stated, “We missed the sunset.” Anything, anything to remove his mind from that terror that had clipped at his brain not moments before.

Wilbur laughed at that, the sound reminding Tommy why he liked the man in the first place and a reminder that he was here, in the present, and in the library, safe from any harm. Wilbur with his light laughter and bright smile, with his beautiful songs and quiet promises of shared sunsets. “It’s okay Tommy.” Wilbur stated, leaning forward, arms braced against the desk in front of Tommy. “We’ll watch it tomorrow I promise, and then we can–” He cut himself off, eyes snapping downwards to Tommy’s keyboard, “You’re bleeding.”

The words came fast, monotone even, and Tommy’s eyes went down to where Wilbur had been looking. Sure enough, his hand was dripping blood, little red crescents showing exactly where Tommy had bitten down into his hand in the midst of his nightmare, in an attempt to drag himself from the fear and pain of the dream.

“sh*t.” Tommy muttered, settling a hand atop the bleeding mess and letting his power do its work. Tommy knew this one would leave a more visible scar, the tear in his skin stitching back together, leaving nothing but spilled blood in its wake. He sighed now, looking at the bloody mess that was his desk. The wound from his hand had left, while not a lot, smears of blood were spread all across his desk from his sharp bouts of movement he was sure his body had in his sleep.

He sighed again, taking in the full of the mess he needed to clean. “It happens.” He stated, reaching in a cabinet beneath the desk for some disinfectant wipes he knew were there. “Sleep habit.” He said, noticing the look on Wilbur’s face. It was a look of both concern and panic.

“You have the ability to heal?” The man asked the words seeming near forced in a mock of casualty. Wilbur went to lean back on the desk as Tommy wiped the blood off the keyboard and his hand. Tommy understood why Wilbur would sound that way, just coming into the library to see Tommy bloodied and asleep, trying to bring some sort of casualness into the situation.

Tommy nodded, throwing away the first wipe and going for a second, “Yeah, helps in situations like these I guess.” Tommy stated, getting the last of the mess with the second wipe before throwing it away in the trash, right next to the first. He leaned on his arms, looking forward to Wilbur. “Now what do you want, prick, technically the library is closed.”

Wilbur’s mouth opened a bit and he looked over his shoulder as if to check that it was really him that Tommy was speaking to. He looked back to the boy, eyebrows drawn in. “We’re not going to brush past that so quickly.” Wilbur reached over the desk, taking Tommy’s hand in an impossibly light grip. Tommy let him, averting his eyes.

Dream got like this too sometimes, worried, he wouldn’t let Tommy brush past things so easily without first giving him a lecture about staying safe, or telling him when things were wrong, then going on more to talk about maybe getting someone for Tommy to talk to.

Well Tommy didn’t need to talk to anyone dickhe*d, he was just fine, and he could handle things fine on his own.

Wilbur’s eyes narrowed on Tommy’s hand as he brought it closer to see it better.

“Tommy…” He murmured, tone filling with concern at what he saw. From far away it was nothing, just lighter skin really, but up close his fingers were marred with little white scars, invisible to everyone unless looked at up close. Tommy jerked his hand away from the man’s grip, refusing to meet his eyes. This was none of his business, this was none of anyone’s business, he would rather die than someone else got involved in this problem that was so fully his.

“I’m fine Wilbur, it happens.” He repeated, voice barely above a mumble. “I can deal with it if it gets out of hand.”

Silence engulfed the two of them, and it was a moment before Wilbur spoke again, apparently deciding against pushing Tommy further on the topic, “Sorry I startled you,” He apologized, his next words were spaced, calculated, “You’ve been asleep since I got here and I thought you might want to go for dinner, but if you need sleep…”

The words faded off, and was that concern Tommy caught in the man’s voice?

Sure, Tommy must have still looked like sh*t. He had slept longer at the library today than he had slept at home that night.

“I don’t need to sleep.” Tommy said, rolling his eyes, “I sleep at home, in my little homely bed every night, I just happened to be more tired today than usual.” Not a lie, half a truth, and an attempt at casual banter,just like Tommy liked to work. “Besides,” He waved his hand through the air, segwaying into a completely different topic, “You promised you would buy me food tonight, and I’m not about to take that promise for granted.”

He didn’t want to sleep, he couldn’t, not when his mind was doused in so much fear and regret he could taste it on his tongue in the waking hours of the day.

Say yes, Tommy begged, Please, say yes.

“I mean…” Wilbur drew out, looking over Tommy with this glint to his eye, “Alright, but only if you promise to actually sleep tonight–and don’t try and say you slept last night because you have bags so deep under your eyes you could probably hold stuff in them.”

Tommy closed his mouth, having only been a second away from arguing with Wilbur. He glared at the man for a moment longer, Wilbur not relenting in his hard gaze.

With a roll of his eyes Tommy drawled, “Fine, but only as long as you promise not to kidnap me as we go out to eat.” A smirk covered his features, “You creep, don’t try and pretend I didn’t hear you say something about, what was it, ‘watching me sleep since you got here’ you weirdo, I’m sixteen.”

Wilbur’s smile twinged a little at the words, but the joy didn’t leave his eyes. “I wasn’t watching you sleep, I just opted to not wake you up until it was time to go.” His gaze darted to the clock behind Tommy, “Which is about right now if I’m correct.”

His gaze followed Wilbur’s to the clock behind him, Wilbur was right of course, it was time for Tommy to head out from work. A little froggy note left at the side of the desk, painted with the smallest smear of blood from Tommy’s nightmare informed the boy that Boomer had left already, letting Tommy sleep through his shift because he “looked like he needed it.”

Shaking his head in a nod, Tommy stood, “It is about now.” He confirmed, grabbing his phone and wallet, making sure to stuff his keys deep into the pockets of his jeans before turning back to Wilbur. His eyes drifted to the books sat in a stack on the desk, the books that had woken Tommy up with that loud noise.

He glanced at Wilbur, a mild gesture towards the stack, “Need me to check these out for you?” The man was already shaking his head by the time Tommy had finished his question.

“Got them at the self checkout while you were out cold,” a mocking look spread over his features then, “You’re lucky I had my dad’s card today.”

Tommy rolled his eyes, picking up half of the stack of books, a lot more than Wilbur usually checked out. “You sound like a young school boy bragging that he has a father to little old Tommy.” He put on a fake pout.

Wilbur laughed at the mocking words. “Speaking of parents,” He supplied, picking the rest of the books up from the edge of the counter, “Are yours alright with you coming to get food with me? I’ve got to be a complete stranger to them.”

A chuckle escaped past Tommy’s lips, as he led the way through the quiet library to the front doors, “Well, technically my friend is my legal guardian, I’m not really the ‘parent’ type myself.” He flicked the switches of the library, turning the lights overhead off and letting the fading brightness of twilight fill the library through the skylights. “He doesn’t mind me doing what I want as long as I know I’m safe, so it doesn’t really matter.”

Wilbur was silent as Tommy pushed the front doors open for them. It was only as he began to lock them, digging his keys out of his pockets that the man spoke. “Tommy, I didn’t know you didn’t live with your parents.”

Tommy shrugged, unphased by the words, “Can’t really miss what you’ve never had, and besides I’ve got my friend, don’t really need anyone else, do I?” Tommy glanced back to Wilbur, books in his arms beginning to fall from locking the door. He had an unreadable look on his face and oh did Tommy not like that. “Don’t even worry about it, big man, the last thing I need is pity.” He laughed, sliding his keys back into his pocket, “And pity from you? That’s even worse, especially given how I am just better than you in every single way.”

The look melted from Wilbur’s face at that, and he gave Tommy a sharp nudge with his elbow, nothing but a smile on his face now, though Tommy knew for a fact this one was forced.

“You got me there,” Wilbur quipped, then gesturing with the same elbow across the parking lot he continued, “That’s my car there, we can drop off my books and then walk over to the place you want to go.”

Tommy nodded, fixing the hold he had on the books in his arms.

They dropped the books into the passenger seat of Wilbur’s car, the thing small and silver, and at most ten years old. Of course Wilbur was that kind of rich, the prick.

The man gave Tommy the fakest of shoves into the car and then laughed as Tommy swore at him, saying that to anyone else it would’ve looked like the man was trying to kidnap him. Wilbur countered by saying that absolutely no one would want to kidnap Tommy, bursting into laughter as Tommy threw a handful of pine needles at him from the ground in front of the man’s car.

The walk over to the restaurant was filled with conversation, not a single second absent of sound from the two of them. Tommy kept mostly quiet about his life outside the library while Wilbur ranted on and on about his brother Techno, who wanted the textbook, and his dad Phil. Really he was complaining about the two of them, talking about how Techno has this horde of neighborhood cats that he feeds every morning, so many of them Wilbur can barely get past them when he needs to go somewhere. Phil, apparently, cooked so much there is rarely a time when there isn’t any food in their pantry or refrigerator. It didn’t sound too much like a complaint to Tommy though.

Tommy laughed at the stories, supplying some of his own times when his friends, usually referring to Dream, did something of the same sort. But as Wilbur’s stories went on, and the restaurant got closer a hole inside of Tommy opened because he was jealous of Wilbur.

Wilbur had a loving family, Wilbur always had someone to go home to, Wilbur was so so lucky, and Tommy hated it. He hated the jealousy that curled in his gut like a growing vine, halting his words with leaves crawling up inside his throat.

It was a relief when the restaurant finally came in view of the two of them. Tommy wasn’t sure how long he could have kept going on hearing about how much Wilbur had in comparison to the almost nothing Tommy had. Tommy lived a life full of fear and pain and death. Every day it was someone new who came in with an injury that was moments away from taking their life fully.

Tommy was jealous. He was sixteen and he didn’t want to care for anyone’s life but his own. He just wanted to run around and cause trouble, he didn’t want to think about if it had been right or wrong to heal one of the most dangerous villains in L’manberg, a villain who on multiple occasions had gotten moments away from taking Tommy’s own life.

He didn’t want to worry, he just wanted to live.

But life was unfair, wasn’t it.

It was only before they entered the restaurant that Wilbur stopped Tommy, a hand on his shoulder so warm through the slight chill of twilight. “Tommy,” He started, just ending his story with the lightest chuckle. The tone made even Tommy stop, one step up on the stairs to the front doors of the restaurant, a ghost of a smile still on his lips from Wilbur’s story. He turned to the man, taking his foot down off the step, and he’s once again reminded just how tall Wilbur is, even in comparison to Tommy. “I know that you don’t want to talk about it,” His hand slid down Tommy’s arm to his hand, lifting it up just enough for the outdoor lights of the place to catch all the little white scars littering Tommy’s hand. Tommy had to resist the urge to pull his hand back to his side and hide it in his pocket. “But I’m worried for you, this… this isn’t good, so I’ll leave it up to you, if you think it’s too much, or if you need anything really, I want you to text me or call me, or anything.”

Wilbur then pulled out an orange sticky note from his pocket, the speech already planned out in advance it seemed. His hand slipped from Tommy’s in the silence, holding the paper out to Tommy between two fingers.

His movements were slow but with the rise of his scarred hand he took the paper, looking down at the number scrawled there. He carefully folded the note and slipped it in his own pocket. Pushing away that jealousy he had of Wilbur to be able to hand away his time and personal number so easily to someone like Tommy who he had just barely met.

“I’ll try.” The words came from Tommy in a stream, defiance littered behind both words. He wouldn’t, he knew he wouldn’t. He rarely even called Dream when something came up, but he guessed… If it came to civilian world stuff he didn’t want to bother Dream with, he might just pester Wilbur.

“I hope you know,” He continued, a smile coming to his face easily now, “You’ve just made an incredibly great mistake, giving me your number, I’m up pretty late into the night usually so you know I’ll be messaging you then.”

Wilbur rolled his eyes, but there was something in the way his posture relaxed that told Tommy the man was grateful for a change in mood of the conversation.

“Nevermind, I want it back.” Wilbur teased, only earning the most sh*t eating grin from Tommy.

“Too late, I’ve already memorized it, dick.” Tommy chided bouncing up the stairs and swinging the door open into the restaurant.

Tommy wasn’t one for deep conversations. In fact, he would say he hated them with a passion. If he had issues, or if someone had issues with him, he would rather speak things out with humor, and not get too deep into the emotional side of things because that… was always difficult to handle.

So as Wilbur gave Tommy the slightest of shoves into the restaurant, Tommy took that contact and kept it close to his chest, thankful that Wilbur didn’t push him on the subject further.

The restaurant was quiet inside, being so late at night it was only Tommy and Wilbur there. The cashier perked up behind the counter, a smile spreading across his face in a lopsided kind of grin.

“Tommy!” He exclaimed, hopping up on the counter besides the register in such a casual way Tommy could just tell the boy had been wanting to do so all night.

The cashier had overgrown brown hair that mostly covered his eyes and ears, little stubbs of horns peeking out from the top of the mess of hair like mountain tops. “Didn’t know you were swinging by tonight king!” He continued as the two of them got closer to the register, “And with a friend no less.”

Tommy rolled his eyes, “Tubbo, this is Wilbur.” Tommy introduced the two, “And I met him at work.”

Tubbo’s head tilted to the side, that smile spreading across his face further. “Wouldn’t have thought you would bring someone here from your job, big Q is going to have a field day with this one.” With a shrug, Tommy turned to Wilbur.

This was his favorite restaurant, with its black and white checkered floor and shiny red booths, and Tubbo, of course. The place was owned by Quackity, and Tubbo worked there most nights, going to a second job in the morning that had to do with research and redstone engineering.

Tubbo and Tommy were close, the two of them having met in the foster care system before they ended up running away. They would rather live on the streets than with those ever pitiful eyes of lost homes and arrogant people.

That had ended up being what was best for the two of them, because it was then that they ended up meeting Quackity and then later Dream. The two of them wouldn’t be who they were today if they hadn’t known each other back then. Tommy was thankful that he knew Tubbo, and that both he and the boy were now living comfortable lives, not quite out of harm's way, but just where they both liked being.

Tubbo both worked here at Tubburger for Quackity, and in the white house with president Schlatt on redstone engineering and as a… secretary? Tommy didn’t really know what Tubbo did there, just that he worked directly beneath Schlatt. That was where Quackity had started too, so Tommy didn’t think the position was too bad if Quackity was still letting Tubbo work there.

Tommy and Wilbur sidled up to the register, Wilbur taking his good old time to go over every option on the menu, just as Tommy had thought he would, the guy seemed like that kind of person. Even in the few days that Tommy had known Wilbur, he could already tell just what kind of a person the guy was. And reading over the entirety of the menu? Yeah. That was Wilbur.

The place was comforting, in the growing darkness of night. The lights on the inside of the building were warm, illuminating every corner and bragging with the red of each booth how kind it looked. It was the kind of peace Tommy usually needed after a long day of work, and he was lucky it was open 24/7. Sometimes he would come in after a hero shift, Dream right on his tail, a smile growing on his face at the sight of Tubbo.

The three of them would sit and talk for hours, at three am there wasn’t even the slightest chance of anyone catching them there. It was at three that the streets outside were dead, and that Tommy and Dream could come into the restaurant freely in their hero gear.

Tubbo knew, of course he did, there was nothing Tommy could keep from Tubbo because the boy was just so f*cking intuitive.

Thankfully for Tommy though, Tubbo knew the difference between hero time Tommy and civilian time Tommy, which is exactly what Tommy needed right now.

“This is a good place.” Wilbur stated, eyes leaving the menu as Tommy went to go stand by Tubbo. “Never been here before but that food sure does look good.”

Tubbo smiled at that, hopping back behind the register. “Glad you think so big man!” He chirped, making a few clicks on the register. “Now what would you like, I know Tommy’s order by heart so…” He typed it in, eyes then going expectantly towards Wilbur.

Wilbur let out a chuckle at that, turning back to Tommy, “You really do come here often.” He commented, “You two must know each other pretty well by now then.”

Tommy did a little shrug, leaning back on the counter as Wilbur took yet another look at the menu, seeming to solidify his choice of food. “We’ve known each other for years, I’d be offended if the Tubbster here didn’t know my order.”

Tubbo co*cked his head back at the boy, that smile never leaving his face, the happiness so free in his features Tommy envied it, “Sometimes I’ll leave the pickles on the sandwich just to screw with you.”

Tommy knew he did so he just stuck out his tongue at the boy.

“I’ll have the patty melt.” Wilbur finally stated, and we’ll both have waters if that’s alright.”

“Which it isn’t.” Tubbo stated, grabbing two large cups from beside the register and turning around to the soft drink machine, filling both the cups up with water.

He turned around again, setting the waters on the counter. “Now,” He began, looking back to the register, “That’ll come out to a grand total of zero dollars.” Tommy almost groaned at the words, though he should have seen them coming from a mile away. “You know how Q is, Tommy.” Tubbo stated, eyes on his friend as he leaned casually against the counter, “He said if you ever come by your meal is free, that is, unless you’re with the big man.”

Tommy rolled his eyes. Quackity would tell Tubbo that, and he rarely came here without Dream (who Quackity just loved scamming out of his money) that he forgot the guy liked to give Tommy all his orders for free.

“Tell him thanks for me.” Tommy quipped, grabbing the two waters and waving for Wilbur to follow him with an elbow, the movement just soft enough to not spill either of the waters.

The two of them sat in a booth near the front, one of the benches just a little rickety and letting out a large clack as Wilbur sat down causing Tommy to jerk a little as he slid into his own spot.

He was still on edge, he would be lying if he said he wasn’t. After the practically no sleep he had gotten that night and the nightmare that had plagued his day at the library, he didn’t think he would be sleeping peacefully any time soon.

Wilbur slid his water from in front of Tommy, giving some commentary on the restaurant around them. Oh was Wilbur always the one to have something to say.

Tubbo had their meals done fast, Wilbur and Tommy sat at their booth exchanging short quips and teases. He set the food out in front of them in neatly wrapped paper, a smile on his face that said too much yet too little as he gave Tommy a harsh pat on the shoulder that caused Tommy to wince a bit, a smile prominent on his face.

Conversation went easy from then on, the two of them enjoying their meals. Tommy with his plain grilled chicken sandwich and Wilbur with his ‘patty melt’. It didn’t look bad, but Tommy didn’t think he’d ever get it, not when the sandwich he had practically inhaled was just so good.

“I’ll have to bring my family here at some point.” Wilbur stated, wiping his fingers of the grease from his finished sandwich. “Both Techno and Phil are suckers for local places so I’m sure they’ll love this one, it’s a bit of a drive from their place though.”

Tommy grabbed his drink, taking a few large gulps, “What? You don’t live with them?”

Wilbur shook his head, tossing the used napkin on top of the greasy paper in front of him. “Of course not, I’m twenty five, Techno’s twenty so of course he’s still living with our dad.” He took another drink, Tommy absentmindedly swirling his plastic straw around his water, the ice breaking apart with each rotation.

“You don’t look twenty five.” Tommy finally said, “And your brother sure doesn’t look twenty.”

Wilbur shrugged at that, continuing on, “They both live out in the ice districts, and moved there a couple years ago. I live out here, about a twenty minute drive outwards of the city.”

Tommy couldn’t tear his eyes from his drink. “Wild.” Was all he could respond with, not knowing why anyone would choose to live out in the ice districts of the city.

The two of them stood from their seating, Tubbo giving them a nice wave, eyes on his phone as he scrolled the internet. “Later Tommy!” He drawled, eyes never leaving the screen of his phone. Both Wilbur and Tommy threw out their trash, Tommy wishing Tubbo a good night as he opened the front door of the restaurant, bell of the door ringing with the movement.

Wilbur, though not having received a goodbye, still waved as the restaurant door closed behind them.

The two of them walked down the front stairs of the restaurant in silence, the contentedness of the meal still sitting between them like a purring cat.

Wilbur turned to Tommy then, reaching for the boy’s hand, a light smile on his features that confused Tommy in the slightest. This was a goodbye for the night, a thank you for coming out, a promise to see each other soon.

“Promise you’ll call.” Wilbur said, the hand holding Tommy’s light and warm, his thumb brushing against the scars there like they were Wilbur’s greatest mistake even though he took no fault in their creation.

Tommy sighed, eyes going to Wilbur’s, the littlest flecks of gold littered them in the light of the streetlamp above them. Tommy’s lips drew into a line and he looked away from the man. “I promise.” Tommy lied, and Wilbur’s hand slipped from his, leaving a cold desperate absence in its wake.

“Okay.” Wilbur stated, “I’ll catch you later okay, Tommy? Have a good night.”

Tommy nodded, giving the older man a little punch on his arm as he turned away, a smile stretching across his features because this was Wilbur and he promised he would see Tommy again. He promised that he would come and visit him despite their just meeting each other. Wilbur felt close to Tommy, like they had been waiting their whole lives to meet, like that puzzle that Wilbur saw in Tommy when they first met could only be completed with one of Wilbur’s own pieces.

And Tommy was excited to see him again, especially as he waved the man goodbye as he drifted around the corner of the street, a smile clear as day on his face. He kept that excitement close to his throat, threatening to spit it out if it turned hard and stale. But for now, he let himself keep that hope.

***

By the time Tommy and Wilbur had finished eating, the next bus that Tommy would usually take home was half an hour away. Now, at this point, Tommy either had the option of waiting another half hour for the bus to come and take him home, or make the twenty minute trek himself.

With one last glance to the bus stop he went off on his way back towards home, not minding the walk because he’d rather get home sooner than later.

But the cold of the night consumed him, those fears from the morning tugging him back, letting the ice of the feeling crawl through his veins like it was their intention to freeze him still.

A thump echoed down the street, and Tommy quickened his pace. Home was only fifteen minutes away now, and when he got back to the apartment he would be greeted by a completely new area from the rearranging that morning. He might even give Dream a call, just wanting to hear his voice again as the cold of fear dragged his bones into the land of nightmares.

Tommy, in his paranoia, took a look behind him, swearing to see shadows at the edges of his vision. He had heard from Sapnap once that severe anxiety caused people to see shadows in the corners of their vision as they looked around. He had then of course stated that said shadows drove tons of people into madness, so who was he to trust Sapnap’s words now into the darkness of the street.

One of the streetlamps had gone out a while ago, the light flickering to a cold and buzzing end. Tommy should really report that, maybe then they would finally get the thing fixed.

Then again, This wasn’t a residential street, this was an open lot street. The majority of buildings here were up for sale, a few ‘coming soon’ posters littering glass or papered windows. It was fun to walk in the daytime or even to see from the windows of the bus, but here now? In the dark of the night? Tommy couldn’t help the shiver that raced down his back at just how ghostly this area looked now.

Glass crunched below Tommy’s shoe and he looked down to the street in disgust. No wonder no one set up their business here, this place was full of trash.

There was a thump behind him, and Tommy indulged that paranoia of his enough to look back.

That damn black cat was sitting there, tail flicking from one side to another as it stepped off the lid of a trash bin, the movement making yet another clang echo throughout the street. Tommy swore if that cat scarred him one more time he would… Well, he didn’t know what he would do, but whatever it was, it wouldn’t go well for the cat.

“Stupid bitch.” He murmured, turning to make his way back down the street.

He stopped immediately, freezing in place at the figure that stood in complete darkness in front of him. The cold of fear laced through Tommy’s veins, and it was only then that he realized just how quiet it was on this street.

And that was gold that glinted at the stranger’s face, the hints of a veil swaying in the wind. Tommy took a step back, the movement breaking him from his stupor, because he had found him.

Tommy took another step back and the figure, Siren, took a step forward to match Tommy’s pace.

So it had been a mistake to heal him, it had been a mistake to heal Siren in those cold basem*nts of the collapsed building, it had been a mistake to hand over his mask to the villain like it was nothing, like the man wouldn’t use it against him.

Another step back had Tommy stumbling over the curb, falling back onto the concrete, broken glass digging into his palms. But Tommy ignored the sting of blood, ignored the pain in his arms from catching his fall, and Tommy’s lips couldn’t move, he could make no sound and he didn’t think he could even breathe.

Siren took a step forward, then another, coming closer and closer to where Tommy was, but Tommy would not let the fear grasp him fully, not as adrenaline began to pump through his system, the only lifeline he had.

He scrambled backwards on the sidewalk, gravel ripping into his palms and letting them bleed on the ground. His back hit a brick wall, shirt tearing a little at the ferocity of the movement, but Tommy didn’t care, he needed to get out of there.

He tried to stand but it was Siren’s voice, soft and simple, twinged with that metallic voice changer that stopped Tommy.

“Stay still.” It said and Tommy nearly sobbed at that, because that was just like in his dream. Despite everything, the fear rushing through his system like a cold shock of a stream, ears straining because it was just too quiet and why wasn’t Siren saying anything?

The villain got closer and Tommy let in a sharp breath, all the fears through his nightmares coming back to him. He hadn’t let the thought grasp on before, hadn’t even entertained the idea of it because he didn’t want just the thought make him hole up in his apartment or in Pogtopia where he knew Dream would never let him leave through both of their fear, but the words snapped from Tommy’s mouth like a prayer, that fear clinging so tightly to them Tommy could feel their terrified sound through his adrenaline.

“Kill me fast.” The words snapped, and if it wasn’t the slightest hint of defiance on his tongue, Tommy didn’t know what it was. Because that had been his fear, the fear that when Siren found him he would die slowly to the villain’s hand.

Siren stopped in his tracks, and Tommy squeezed his eyes shut, ready for that final blow. Tommy had seen Siren’s face, they had both known that, no matter how fast it had been and despite the no memory Tommy held at what the man looked like, he knew he was done.

This was it.

The Arctic was known for never leaving loose ends, and to Siren, that’s what Tommy was: a loose end. Who was Tommy to have thought that he could get away from Siren for this long, come on, he had seen the man observing each and every one of his features the second he willingly took off his mask. It was only a matter of time before SIren found him out, and narrowed it all down to Tommy.

And why was Siren continuing to just let them sit in this silence? Tommy hated the quiet, at this point he would take anything, even the sound of that cat rattling against another trash can, anything to fill the silence. Anything that wasn’t the sound of Siren’s footfalls as he continued his walk toward Tommy.

Hopefully he would end it fast.

He thought of his phone too late, in an attempt at survival digging it out of his pocket, panic overtaking all of his actions. Siren kicked the device from Tommy’s hands and Tommy watched helplessly as his phone skittered across the pavement of the street, the light of the screen turning on one last time.

Siren had to be right in front of him now, he just had to, moments away from taking out those claws and slicing down Tommy’s throat with them. At one time Siren had promised that Tommy would see his internal organs at least once before he died by the man’s hand, so maybe that was what he was preparing for now.

The shift of glass beneath shoes caused Tommy to jerk, raising his hands above his head, covering his eyes, the command from Siren just barely wearing off.

“Look at me.” The words were not a command, though even through the absence of Siren’s power Tommy knew the man would not be taking no for an answer.

Ever so slowly, he lifted his gaze from his arms, pooling one last look of defiance into his stare, sure it would be his last. Fear gripped him further at what he saw: Siren crouching in front of him like Tommy was nothing more than a frightened child.

The veil of Siren’s mask was taunting Tommy with each ghostly movement from the man.

“I’m not going to kill you.” Siren stated, something Tommy could never believe.

And just like in his nightmares, Tommy could feel as the smile stretched across Siren’s face in the shadow of his mask and in the darkness of the night.

He leaned further forward, head right next to Tommy’s ear. The next words would haunt Tommy for the rest of his life.

“I owe you, Thomas.”

And with those words Siren stood, and walked away, Tommy sitting still against the wall of the empty building behind him, eyes wide and breath heavy in his lungs, blood continuing to drip from his hands thanks to the glass.

Tommy wished to be anything but alive then.

Chapter 8: Guilt?

Chapter Text

The night air stuck warm against skin in the light of the summer air. The last slivers of sunlight faded from the sky long ago, birds singing it’s goodbye off into a cruel and unforgiving world full of hate and sorrow.

The sunset had been beautiful that day, the clouds that littered the horizon painted red as the sun said its last goodbyes to the land below, each fading moment painting the sky in a darker and darker red like that wasn’t the light of the sun shining one last light on the clouds of the world but rather a mess of spilled blood across the sky.

The sunsets in L’manberg were always beautiful. To deny that would be to deny that the sky was blue or the ocean ever changing. They always painted the skies in their own colors, the fading of their light leaving a lasting mark on the landscape of L’manberg.

Summer used to feel so much brighter than it was now. It used to be a loved one dragging you from one store to the next, smile never leaving their face as they pointed out each and every single thing they loved. Summer used to be quiet times of contemplation where you would sit with your brother on the roof of your home, watching as birds so content in their lives flew far overhead, uncaring of the messy world below. Summer used to be kind days where your father brought home your favorite meal and smiled at the excitement that spread through your veins in a warmth so real you couldn’t help but remember it when kind words turned sour, late nights twisting into nothing but exhaustion and regret.

Summer never used to be this: a quiet house far from family as the night set into place in the world around you. It was never an open window looking out to the rest of the neighborhood letting in the noise of the neighbor’s dog as it barked to some friend far across the city they would never see again.

Wilbur would have never thought of summer as it was now.

Summer was begging and pain, begging was empty promises that vanished in the slightest hint of kindness or weakness.

Summer was a dimly lit street, a cold basem*nt, blood, and acceptance of a death that would never come.

Summer was a kid, back pressed up against a wall, pleading for his life to be taken quickly.

Was that really what summer was supposed to be? As the time changed and life became harder and harder to work through every day, was summer supposed to be this painful? This pitiful?

He understood, at least he did now, having worked it out in his mind on the drive home, his focus so far from the road he was surprised he hadn’t crashed on the trip.

But to beg for a quick death?

Wilbur supposed it was his fault, how could it not be? The number of times he had threatened the boy with a cold and unforgiving death was insurmountable. The number of times he had come so close to killing him before, so completely unaware that the hero who sat defying him was nothing more than a sixteen year old.

He didn’t want to think about it, but he knew he needed to. Theseus, the healing hero who had refused to sit on the sidelines and watch as others got hurt, was just sixteen.

Sixteen.

When Wilbur had first learned he was a child his first thought was: who would let him out to fight so young? His second was that it would be that hero Dream, the bastard, of course he would let his kid go out and fight with some of the world’s most dangerous people. His third thought came much later than the others as he spent a few days with the boy, and it was that he must have decided to fight all by himself. He was stubborn, the kid, he did what he wanted and he had no regrets for any of it.

Which led Wilbur to his last and final thought.

Theseus had done what he had done that night for himself and only himself, despite the threats and injuries and scars Wilbur had given him in the past. Theseus had still chosen life over fear, kindness over reason, peace over violence.

Wilbur barely understood now. He wanted to ask him, beg him for answers he realized now that even the boy didn’t have.

It hadn’t been Theseus that night, wrapped in moonlight and promising Wilbur it would be okay, promising he would see sunlight again through tight grips and fading consciousness, no, it couldn’t have been Theseus. That had been Tommy, a boy who didn’t want another life pass in front of his eyes.

The longer Wilbur thought about it, settling his books from the library on his kitchen counter, the more he recognized all the signs.

He wanted to bury his head in his hands, to lie on the floor and stare at the ceiling of his house as he just thought.

Wilbur walked around, flicking on the lights of his house. One by one they illuminated the space, washing over the empty floor in warm hues and bright songs. His house was clean, it rarely was, but after that night, Wilbur felt bad. He couldn’t sleep, and if he couldn’t sleep, he decided he was going to do something else useful.

So he had cleaned his house, mopping the floors, taking a sponge and spray to the shower, even getting down on his knees and cleaning out all of his cabinets, rearranging each and every one of them until he had no excuses left and had to think about the night.

He hadn’t told Phil and he hadn’t told Techno, and he didn’t know why. Neither of them would judge, Wilbur knew that, he really just thought of how horrified they would be to learn that he had been minutes away from death, and maybe how horrified they would be to learn that their rival hero Theseus was nothing more than a sixteen year old who refused to watch someone die in front of him.

Wilbur closed his eyes to the light of his house. Soon. He would tell his family soon, later in the week perhaps. He had confronted the boy tonight, and he was sure it was only a matter of time before both Phil and Techno questioned him on his obsessed hunt for Theseus.

It really had been a shock finding him at the library, a place where Wilbur had rarely gone before. Though he supposed it was a kind of fate, meeting the boy there was an act of total coincidence.

Maybe whatever god ruled these lands had planned that out, a smirk on his face and a thought of just how fun it would be.

Wilbur had never expected to do anything more with the boy after the night he had healed him, deciding as he crawled from that broken basem*nt like it was a pit of hell that he owed his life to this hero, no matter the bitterness it had brought to his tongue at the thought then.

Theseus had been so selfless in that moment of theirs. Handing Wilbur–Siren his mask as to not defy those old set rules between heroes and villains. He had promised safety in Wilbur’s delirious state, let them lean against each other as the boy had knitted Wilbur’s skin and bones back together even though the action brought Theseus closer and closer to his own exhaustion.

Wilbur didn’t understand then, and since actually meeting the boy, Tommy, he would have thought he would learn more, understand more.

But he didn’t.

And Tommy was throwing all the balance from Wilbur’s life because of how absolutely normal the kid was.

Tommy enjoyed watching the sunsets, he enjoyed reading the news even when it didn’t have to do with heroes, he liked grilled chicken sandwiches plain, he didn’t sleep much, he had his own thoughts and worries and hopes and passions. He wasn’t the useless sidekick that Wilbur had once seen him as.

He had never expected to see Tommy again after that night when he unmasked himself for Wilbur’s sake. Sure he had looked over the boy’s features, memorizing the blue of his eyes and the blonde of his hair. He had memorized everything about Theseus in that night, half delirious state washing over his mind like a river. He didn’t think he would remember his face.

It was unfair.

Was the universe shoving Theseus into Wilbur’s hands to make him feel guilty? Was it making him so intrigued about the boy that he was going to see him every day despite the little time to rest those days then gave him? Was this a curse?

Look at him, the universe seemed to say, remember the number of times you tried to remove his life from this world?

Wilbur hated it. That kind inquisitive child was scared of Siren, of Wilbur. And who was Wilbur to make excuses. He knew what he was doing in those moments, forbidding the boy to breathe, telling him with those thick sweet words to cut his own throat…

This was shame, and Wilbur knew the word all too well.

If Siren was a reminder to Tommy, or Theseus that there was an innate kind of evil to the world, then Tommy was a reminder to Wilbur that there was a bottomless hope in the world that could only be filled with the type of kindness that Tommy had shown him. The kindness both as Tommy and as Theseus.

Wilbur sighed, and made his way over to his couch, not bothering moving the scattered pillows back into place before falling down onto the soft cushions. He closed his eyes to the quiet of the world, so silent here.

He had told Tommy that he owed him today. He had followed him halfway home before approaching the boy silently, promising that he owed Tommy his life for what he did for Siren.

Wilbur didn’t think Tommy would be surprised, they had both recognized Wilbur looking over his face, memorizing his boy-like features.

If Wilbur had gone looking for Tommy after first seeing him, finding him would have been difficult, very difficult. He would have looked for him though. He would have torn through every database he had access to in order to fully confront Tommy, to ask him why.

His first plan had been to ask him, beg him for answers on why he had done what he did that night. He hadn’t understood then, stumbling into Phil’s waiting arms from the collapse of the basem*nt. He didn’t think he would ever understand, and Wilbur couldn’t live without that knowledge. He couldn’t continue to fight in that state of unknowing.

He was sure in that moment where he had first seen Tommy at his work in the library that the boy would recognize him, that he would take back what he had so graciously given the night before and steal Siren’s life back with the thought that it hadn’t been worth it in the first place.

Wilbur’s heart stopped at the sight of him. He had gone to the library to pick up Techno’s textbook for him and decided to get some of his own books. He didn’t go to the library much so what would be the harm?

At the sight of the boy Wilbur’s heart stopped, and he could have sworn his breathing slowed to nothing more than a puff of a breeze on a summer day because that was him there. Him who had saved Wilbur’s life, him who had gripped him so tight in the cold of that basem*nt Wilbur would have thought Theseus actually cared about him.

And yet Tommy had given him such a worried look then, as Wilbur dropped his books in surprise, and then he closed himself off, biting at Wilbur’s hand as he covered whatever kindness had been there moments before.

That had fascinated Wilbur, so when Tommy jabbed at him, he readily jabbed back, so content on dissecting every bit of the boy he could because Tommy was just too intriguing.

It wasn’t fair, and Wilbur knew that, that he knew Tommy was Theseus and yet Tommy didn’t know anything about him being Siren. And if anything made it even more unfair, it was the fact that Wilbur was now inserting himself into Tommy’s life, and even though he realized this, he refused to stop.

When it all came down to it, all Wilbur wanted to do was make up for every wrong thing he did to Theseus. Not only had he saved Wilbur’s life despite all the man had done to him, but he had risked himself to do so. What kind of person did that?

There was no other way to describe it than this: Wilbur felt guilty for what he did, and in his mind, if he could help out Tommy as Wilbur, maybe that would make up for some of what he had done. Maybe, just maybe he could fill that void in his chest that gnawed at his insides like a feral monster by knowing that even if he couldn’t help Tommy as Siren, he would be able to help the boy as Wilbur.

It was deceptive, it was unfair, and it was cruel. Wilbur knew that, but all he wanted was to feel like he was making up for something, and Tommy never had to know.

And the thought struck him, like a million pounds from the ceiling because it was Tommy who thought that Siren was out to kill him. Tommy who thought, in full fairness, that Siren was going to take his life from the world and asked in all of his young defiance for Wilbur to kill him quickly.

If there was one point in his life that Wilbur had felt shame, it had been then. With Tommy looking at him with those too old eyes and those scarred hands, with nothing he could do against Siren’s order to just ‘stay still’. Yeah, Wilbur was ashamed of himself.

Wilbur dug his palms into his closed eyes until he began to see spots floating in his vision. He thrived in the normality of he and Tommy’s interactions, he looked forward to them every moment he entered the library and caught a glimpse of the tired boy’s face. Who was he to take that kind of casual life from the boy?

He wouldn’t be surprised now if he never saw Tommy again. Surely he would call Dream and tell him all that had happened that night, Wilbur expected it, really. Thinking back on it, maybe catching Tommy on his way home that night was not the smartest idea.

Especially as he thought Siren was out to kill him.

Especially as he wasn’t in his hero gear.

Especially as now Dream knew for sure that Siren knew who Theseus was and where he lived.

Yeah. Not the smartest idea.

Wilbur had just been so confident tonight. After spending that time with Tommy he was ready to confront him, ready to get words off his chest he didn’t even know the meaning behind. Before he would have begged Tommy for answers about his actions, but now he just wanted to get the thoughts off of his chest, and finally tell the boy that his whole life was owed to him.

Wilbur didn’t regret it, how could he? He felt lighter tonight than he had in the last week. It hadn’t been long since Theseus had saved him, really only a few days, but the reminder lay heavy in his stomach like stones dragging him down to the bottom of a river, never to breathe again.

“Don’t breathe until I say you can.” The words struck Wilbur like a physical blow.

He wished the guilt that had sat like stone in his stomach had drowned him now. He had said that to Tommy, him in his full and conscious mind.

He had been so ready to wipe another hero off of the face of the planet, so ready to make his life of the night easier then, that he had said that.

You didn’t know, his thoughts whispered to him in the fog of his mind how could you know he was nothing more than a kid. He wanted to let his consciousness sink into the thoughts like they were water, he wanted them to consume both him and his lungs until he woke up in the morning, completely forgetful of everything that happened that night. But the words continued, louder and louder across his mind until he himself began to feel their effects on his own lungs.

“Don’t breathe until I say you can.” It hurt, the knowledge that that was a boy, that that had been Tommy. How had the knowledge that he had done that to someone not kept him from sleeping that night like the words had been nothing. He should go back, tell Tommy he owes him more than a favor, tell him that he owes Tommy every second that he is still breathing.

Still, despite the guilt and the fear of what the next day would bring, when Wilbur lay in his bed that night, breath fresh from brushing his teeth and body warm beneath his stacks of blankets, sleep came easily to him.

***

Waking up fresh in the morning was easy, fulfilling when combined with the neat breakfast Wilbur decided to make for himself.

The morning was spent in peace around Wilbur’s house as he read through some of the books he had gotten from the library and did some research for Phil, glasses perched on his nose and laptop open and shining on the table in front of him. There was a slight breeze which came through the open window, brushing peacefully throughout the house.

A good morning, one like many others that week.

Wilbur would be lying if he were to say he didn’t feel lighter today than he had from the days before. Having spoken to Tommy as Siren had relieved some stress and a weight off of his shoulders he didn’t even know was there.

He felt good.

His phone rang, the tune of a light guitar in the quiet of the house. One glance down at the screen below told him that Phil needed him.

“Hi mate.” The voice came across the phone easily as Wilbur picked up, and he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his lips at the sound of the man.

“Phil.” Wilbur supplied back, putting the phone on speaker and setting it next to his laptop as he continued his work, “Why are you calling so early? Shouldn’t you still be asleep or something?”

A cackle echoed across the line, Wilbur continued his typing. “You know, sometimes there’s morning work to do.” The voice replied, “And besides, I was just making sure you got the files I sent you, we’ll be using them tonight and it goes over all the plans in detail.” He laughed again, the action coming so easily to him Wilbur was jealous. “Just like you asked.”

Wilbur shook his head at that, closing one of the tabs he had open, getting all he really needed from it and pulling up the email Phil had sent him. “That’s all you called me for? To ask if I got the files you sent me? I’m going over them now if that was what you were wondering.”

Wilbur could practically hear Phil shaking his head on the other side of the line, the man’s smile dripping into his next words. “I’m gonna be honest mate, I just didn’t hear from you much last night so I decided to call in this morning.”

A question hung in the air from the statement, one that Wilbur caught easily.

“I’m fine Phil.” He stated, pulling up another one of the files the man had sent him. Then feeling a little more at ease, “I’m feeling really good today actually.”

“Oh ho, good to know.” Phil replied, tone shifting to a more soft touched kindness. “Just have to make sure sometimes, you know, parents.”

Wilbur let out a huff of a laugh at the words. Phil was that kind of parent, Will knew that. “Alright, alright,” He said, reading over an article, only half of his attention was on his father. “I’ll see you later tonight then old man, keep yourself safe.”

There was a slight pause, then a chuckle, “Really into that article huh?” Wilbur just hummed in response. “I’ll see you later tonight Will, byeeee.”

Phil hung up the phone and Wilbur let himself smile.

He would see them both tonight.

***

The library was bright in the light of the afternoon sun as it shone through the skylights far above the shelves of books below.

Wilbur was finding a kind of comfort in the library now, having been here most out of the week so far. But perhaps it was his good mood that seemed to lighten the building to his eyes. Returning his books in the book return at the front of the building, Wilbur let his eyes wander further in, particularly to the desk that sat in the corner of the library where a shaggy blonde haired teen now sat.

He felt a smile spreading across his features at the sight, making his way over to the desk across the blue carpeted floors.

“Well,” He began, smirking over the desk at Tommy whose head was lowered as he looked at the computer screen in front of him. “If it isn’t my favorite librarian.”

Wilbur smiled at Tommy though his eyes were hidden beneath that mess of hair. He felt better around the kid now after the night before, lighter, really, and he hoped he could convey that relief back to Tommy.

The boy slowly looked up over the monitor as he always did when Wilbur came in and…

“Tommy, you look like sh*t.” The words flowed from his lips like they were nothing, the shock of seeing Tommy like this catching him off guard. His eyes were red rimmed, the bags from the day before somehow darker, making him look older than he was.

He let out a yawn, “Hey, Wilbur.”

Wilbur sat in silence, looking down at Tommy, pushing away the fact that the boy had just blatantly brushed past his insult, something Tommy wouldn’t normally do.

Suddenly, that relief that had been flooding through Wilbur’s system all since last night turned cold, and ice ran through his brain and pooled in his stomach.

“Wait,” He finally was able to stumble out, mind racing, hoping to the god of this land that this was not because of what he thought it was. “Tommy are you alright?”

Tommy’s eyes slowly rose to meet Wilbur’s and he frowned for a moment, as if asking himself why on earth would Wilbur be asking such a thing? Eventually, after a moment, Tommy looked back down to his computer and shrugged. “Got spooked last night on the way home and cut open my hand. Didn’t get a lot of sleep after that.”

Wilbur blinked once, then twice.

Oh.

Oh.

The realization hit and as soon as it came the weight of that ice in his stomach felt like it was weighing him down because just how stupid could he be?

“How’s your hand?” The words sounded monotone to his own ears even as they left his mouth, dry as the air around them.

Tommy shrugged once again, dragging a book across the scanner next to the monitor before holding the hand up. A thin pink like sat in his palm, stretching near the whole length of the pale skin, still marred with those tiny white crescents.

“I guess it must’ve been infected or something ‘cuz it didn’t heal one hundred percent.” Another shrug before going back to work. “How’s your day been so far Will? Can’t have been worse than mine surely.” He gestured to himself, briefly meeting Wilbur’s eyes, “You said it yourself, I look like sh*t.”

The words left Wilbur speechless, and he opened his mouth, waiting, praying, for any semblance of words to come pouring from his lips. Yet his mind was left with nothing but racing thoughts and that guilt, and Wilbur went with the safest route his mind could think of.

“I’m sorry Toms, didn’t know that happened after we left each other last night. You know you could have called me to take you home or something.” He swallowed, though his mouth felt dry and lips chapped in this new feeling of dread at the realization that this was on him. “You did say you ran to and from work when we talked about it, next time I’ll just give you a ride home.”

Something akin to fear crossed Tommy’s features, followed quickly by relief, then replaced by apathy, each emotion passing in a blur, showing so briefly, Wilbur was surprised he had even caught it. Tommy gave Wilbur’s words a slight wave.

“Might just take you up on that one king.” He stated, finally meeting Wilbur’s eyes for longer now, a guarded look on them that Wilbur couldn’t quite read.

He understood the look for sure, it was a look he often saw on Techno’s face, and a look he was sure littered his face when he first met Philza.

Distrust was the best way to put the look, a way of making sure no one knew what you truly felt lest they use it against you. Wilbur’s body seemed to sink in defeat at that realization, chest squeezing with an uncomfortable feeling that he labeled as guilt and nothing more, though the feeling still tore at his veins and ran through his blood like snow.

And yet the words relieved Wilbur, and he took them to heart, “Tonight you’re either getting better sleep or I’m taking you out for a relaxation night before you go to bed.” A smile stretched across Wilbur’s face that felt forced, and he hoped it didn’t look it as well. “By the time you get back home you’ll be so exhausted that you’ll have to sleep, and if that doesn’t work–” His eyes briefly tilted down to the scars that littered Tommy’s hands, lingering a little too long on that new barely healed pink one that stretched across his palm, as Tommy cracked his knuckles. “Then I promise to find you something that does.”

Chapter 9: Glass

Chapter Text

The concrete was rough underneath his raw hands, his breathing still rapid in the night air. Tommy had been sitting back up against the wall of brick for nearly a half hour now, his numb body refusing to move in the air of the night, the sky polluted with the light of the city beyond.

He didn’t want to move now, he didn’t even want to go and grab his phone, not as his body shook and his power had unconsciously healed broken glass into his skin.

Moving could mean a plethora of things. If he moved, he thought maybe Siren would jump out and give him a scare, bright eyes behind that black veil gleaming with their usual calm before he shouted “Just Kidding!” and slit Tommy’s throat where he sat. But the night stayed still around him, the light breeze pushing around an old receipt was the only sound that snuck its way into Tommy’s tired ears.

He should call Dream, he really should call Dream. But if he did would he need to explain everything that had happened? Would he be locked away in the basem*nts of Pogtopia for his own safety because of how useful he was to HQ? Dream wouldn’t care that Tommy had healed Siren to begin with, but the man was a stickler to the rules, so Tommy knew the man would write a report on it.

Then what? Tommy never got a break from his time in Pogtopia? He would have to stay there for the rest of his life, or perhaps until Siren got locked away or was killed? He was on a thin thread as it was, given that everyone knew that Siren was looking for Tommy.

And he felt guilty.

He’ll admit it. Out here in the dust of the street on an abandoned avenue, he would admit it. He felt guilty, now more than ever for healing Siren.

Tommy didn’t know what Dream would say at the admission, if Tommy ever did tell the man.

But do you ever open up about the most shameful thing that you have ever done in your life when the shame is still fresh and festering in your chest, corrupting the air in your lungs?

No.

Tommy refused to tell anyone.

Not HQ.

Not Sapnap.

Not Dream.

Slowly Tommy sat up, mind numb to the world around him. He took one look at his hand and the inch long shard of green that stuck from his palm like a broken tooth, and cringed. The skin around it was healed, and by now when he took it out the process would be painful, and it would definitely leave a long scar.

Yet it had to be done. He brought his other hand up to meet his first, grasping the shard of glass that sat embedded there between his index and middle finger, thumb on the other side. With a deep breath, he turned his eyes upward, the only thing blocking his sight from the empty sky being that damn streetlight that was always out.

Yeah, he was going to report that thing. Taking one deep breath, Tommy bit down on his bottom lip and pulled with his fingers. The glass gave way, sliding from his skin with a break in Tommy’s palm, he bit his lip to keep from making noise, still unsure of how safe he was here crumpled against the wall. A little blood leaked from the cut before Tommy’s hand healed.

There was a scar there now, in the palm of his right hand. It was long and pink, and Tommy knew that despite his power, the thing had done enough dirty damage to his skin for it to take at least a week before healing into a crisp white scar.

With another deep breath, Tommy was standing and picking his phone from the black unlit pavement of the street, hands shaking despite the warmth of the night.

Despite the little noise on the street and the light breeze, Tommy didn’t trust that the villain wasn’t still watching him from wherever he had left. He wouldn’t have even trusted going home at this point but…

If Siren already knew who Tommy was outside of Theseus and he knew to catch him on his walk home, then surely the villain also knew where he lived.

Tommy’s eyes traveled up to the skies above, closing them for just a moment as a light breeze passed his way. He didn’t believe a word Siren had told him. The man was out to kill him, Siren had made that very clear. Tommy was sure this was about the thrill of the hunt for the villain. Maybe he was trying to ease past Tommy’s defenses before striking.

Honor was not a word Tommy thought could be in Siren’s vocabulary. Yet exhaustion pulled at him. The night before he hadn’t gotten any sleep, and even the bout of nightmares at the library had done nothing to spare his empty mind of sleepiness. So if Siren was out to kill him, then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he did it in Tommy’s own bed.

Maybe he would finally be asleep peacefully as Siren used those sharp black claws of his to tear Tommy’s heart from his chest.

***

Sleep did not come easily to Tommy that night.

Maybe coming home to his own house wasn’t the best idea for him, because even as the night progressed his mind in his sleep would constantly latch onto the fear from his waking hours, threatening that if he didn’t open his eyes, he wouldn’t see Siren there standing in the corner of his room, so ready to kill.

Half the night Tommy spent wide awake, sitting in his chair across from the apartment door, nothing more than a sharpened kitchen knife in his hands like it would do anything about Siren’s haunting words. He was waiting for any noise to penetrate the absolute and complete silence of his apartment, grip so tight on the handle of his knife he felt like he could still feel the glass that had been lodged in his hand a moment before. Or had it been hours before? Time was moving too slowly for Tommy this night.

Tommy spent the other half of his night hunched over the toilet, head on that cool porcelain, just waiting to hear the sound of Sirens’ footsteps on the hollow wooden floor of his home. Just waiting for the end of his time here on earth.

All that to say, Tommy got no sleep that night.

At five he got his regular text from Dream, a sign that something was still normal in the world. He sent back a little smiley face, only to look up seconds later to his bathroom mirror to see the hollowness of his face and the dullness of his eyes.

He wanted to go back already, spend his nights in the room he had in Pogtopia. He didn’t want to stay out here any longer knowing nothing about what was happening back there. It was driving him crazy.

Only a few more days until Dream said things would probably be safe enough for Tommy to come back home.

But Tommy’s apartment was lonely, empty, and it was here that the nightmares were the only comfort in the cold of the dark night.

A few more days.

Tommy drifted through time that day, his mind seeming to fade in and out of consciousness as the clock kept ticking. Before he even knew it he was sitting in his chair in the library computer monitor open and blank with that green swirl of a background taunting his mind into an ease his body didn’t feel. And it was Wilbur in front of him, looking down oh so expectantly waiting for a response to whatever it was he said, he just commented on Tommy’s look, right?.

Like a rubberband, Tommy’s mind snapped to the present, and he blinked and yawned, not really caring to respond to whatever Wilbur said, it was Wilbur after all. “Hey, Wilbur.” His voice came out a little hoarse and he didn’t quite feel in the present.

Wilbur was there, as he always was these days. It seemed like over the past few days of exile from Pogtopia… okay, exile was a bit of a dramatic word, but anyway, over the past few days away from Pogtopia, Wilbur had been a constant, an anchor in the swirling of Tommy’s life. Everything had been so calm the night before when they had gone out for a meal. It was refreshing, yet for some reason Tommy’s body tensed the slightest at the sight of the man. Tommy had seen him moments before Siren had caught him, and he hoped that the villain hadn’t seen them together, and hopefully, the villain hadn’t seen Tubbo or the shop either. Tommy already didn’t feel as if he was going to be safe on the way home from the only normal part of his life now, he didn’t have the time or mindspace to worry more about anything else.

But Wilbur, Wilbur was an anchor, so the way he was looking at Tommy made him want to shrink back in his chair and lie, to shut himself off from those asking eyes. There was that worry in his eyes, his brows coming together in the slightest and his mouth set in a thin line.

Tommy had seen that look before, in Dream’s eyes, sometimes in George’s, but he remembered it most from when he was much younger, a kid stuck in the foster system. Then, he had seen it in the looks everyone gave him. He wasn’t a problem child, he swore not to be, but still he was always too much, or looked down on with pity and worry because he wasn’t like the other children.

Seeing the look now, littered across Wilbur’s face, was a not so gentle reminder that he would probably always be looked down on with pity.

He wanted to hide it better, he thought, shelter away all the parts of himself that just wanted to be a kid and wrap himself in a blanket as he lay on the floor and curled so tightly into himself that he just disappeared into the void.

And yet there was Wilbur, standing in front of him with such worry on his features. Of course the god of this city would place Wilbur in front of him like this, a roadblock he could never even think of getting past, because it was Wilbur who came in every day with that taunting smile and so familiar brown eyes who pried open all of his folds of secrets as if he were nothing more than a finely made paper crane with blood and bones of secrets hidden under each wing.

Tommy didn’t think he’d be able to shut himself off to Wilbur, to try harder to hide that old pain. He had tried before and it hadn’t worked.

Wilbur fascinated Tommy as a person. He was so unique, so different, he just looked like he knew things, and while Tommy hated to admit it, that’s just what he needed right now.

Wilbur’s head tilted to the side as he looked down at Tommy, those brown eyes reflecting the same feeling in them that Tommy felt flood through his veins in the shocking moments before he lost a life right in front of him. “Wait,” Wilbur murmured, a recognition in his voice that Tommy understood. “Tommy are you alright?”

And of course he would ask that. Of course Wilbur of all people Tommy knew on this goddamn planet would ask a question that stilled Tommy’s thoughts like a speared fish in water.

But he had thought of this, he had thought of excuses beforehand, thought of something to say if he had come into work today and Hannah or Boomer asked him what was wrong, or even if Dream asked, because god knew that Dream could sense the slightest change in Tommy’s voice over the phone and would ask.

Tommy shrugged, though the action was anything but smooth, “Got spooked last night on the way home and cut open my hand.” With the words he held up his right hand, showing off that thick pink line that stretched down his palm like a bolt. He set his hand back down on the desk in front of him, wanting nothing more than to rest his head right beside it and drift into exhaustion. “Didn’t get a lot of sleep after that.”

Now if that wasn’t the understatement of the century. Tommy knew he looked worse today than he had yesterday, he knew that the bags below his eyes were dark, that his skin was far more pale than usual, and that His blue eyes were dull, nearly gray even in the light of the noon.

Memories of that night came back, with Tommy sitting on that chair in his living room, hand gripped so tightly around the handle of his kitchen knife he thought just that metal would reopen his wound from the night.

“How’s your hand?” Wilbur questioned, the words breaking through the fog of Tommy’s thoughts.

Tommy shrugged, going back to his mindless work for a moment, as he tested the feel of the books in his hand as he slid each of them across the scanner in front of him. He decided to go with the truth on this one, it was Wilbur after all. “I guess it must’ve been infected or something ‘cuz it didn’t heal one hundred percent.” Another shrug before going back to work. “How’s your day been so far Will? Can’t have been worse than mine surely.” He gestured to himself, briefly meeting Wilbur’s eyes, “You said it yourself, I look like sh*t.” Or at least, that was what he thought Wilbur had said at one point in their conversation, if not, Tommy knew the man would call him out on his bullsh*t. He knew it too, and Will wasn’t one to pass up an opportunity to mock Tommy, it was what friends did right?

Wilbur looked sad for a moment, maybe shocked at the sight. Tommy was a healer after all, who was he if he couldn’t heal a simple glass cut all the way through?

“I’m sorry Toms,” Wilbur began, voice soft in the silence of the library, “Didn’t know that happened after we left each other last night. You know you could have called me to take you home or something.” Tommy perked up at that, the memory of Wilbur’s number sinking heavily in his pants pocket where the note hadn’t left. He had forgotten, having decided the moment Wilbur handed him that number that he wouldn’t be calling the man any time soon. It didn’t surprise Tommy that he had forgotten, but there was something about that knowledge that curled in the back of Tommy’s mind where in the moment he would never touch, but now? After the fear that had gripped him the night before? He might say he was relieved to remember that he had someone outside of his other life. While Wilbur couldn’t know what was going on fully, at least the man wouldn’t lock him away a mile underground for his own safety. “You did say you ran to and from work when we talked about it,” Wilbur continued, “Next time I’ll just give you a ride home.”

The words struck Tommy, he didn’t really expect them, and yet the look Wilbur was giving him now was just so genuine, so kind, Tommy wouldn’t put it past the man. Tommy bit his lower lip, not only was he afraid that should he accept Wilbur’s proposal to take him home it would put him further in the spotlight of Siren, but he was also afraid that should he tell Dream about Wilbur, the man would warn against getting closer to a civilian for the same reasons that Tommy was fearful of–a villain finding them and using them, it was a fear every hero had, one Tommy didn’t need to worry about until now, because now he had Wilbur.

The words echoed throughout his brain like shouts against a sheer cliff. Tommy was surprised for the briefest moment that someone outside his family in Pogtopia would offer that, would care for him in that way, really. It barely made sense to him.

But still despite the feeling a kind of relief spread through Tommy’s veins like warm honey. Tommy schooled his features at that thought, refusing to acknowledge he found any sort of peace under Wilbur, under that offer. Tommy turned his eyes downward, refusing to meet Wilbur’s demanding gaze, afraid that it could pull the secrets from his throat like a thread from his stomach to his tongue. “Might just take you up on that one king.”

He might just too. Wilbur intrigued him, he interested him to no bounds, and that's what Tommy liked about the man. So he met Wilbur’s eyes, keeping his features uncaring despite the void that floated in his stomach.

Yet Tommy didn’t think he had the guts, or rather, Tommy didn’t think he had the trust in him to follow through with any promises to Wilbur, not unless they were directly through his decisions. In this world Tommy only fully trusted himself, his life had taught him that from the very first time he opened his eyes and saw that this was a poor and cruel world.

Tommy didn’t even trust Dream fully. He blamed it on his younger years, he wanted more than anything to be able to hand out his trust freely, to curl into the side of others for once and know that he would be fine, that he would be okay. But he couldn’t, so he would live with that distrust, even as he looked into Wilbur’s eyes and saw nothing but openness and questions that Tommy refused to acknowledge or answer.

A smile came to Wilbur’s face at Tommy’s words, a certain gleam to the earthy brown of his eyes that Tommy labeled as excitement.

“Tonight you’re either getting better sleep or I’m taking you out for a relaxation night before you go to bed. By the time you get back home you’ll be so exhausted that you’ll have to sleep, and if that doesn’t work–” Wilbur’s gaze flickered for a moment, those oh so bright eyes faltering in the slightest as Tommy saw them shift to the boy’s hands as he pulled nervously at his fingers, each knuckle cracking lightly in the process. “Then I promise to find you something that does.”

Wilbur’s eyes flickered back up to meet Tommy’s gaze, that smile on the man’s face brightening the world around Tommy like they were the only two in it. Like they could do anything and live their lives to their fullest, resting in the ground at an age way older than they both were now. Living in that peace, eyes always shedding that kind light.

Tommy leaned on his elbows, propped on the desk, a smirk coming to his lips. “Okay, bet.” He stated, then shrugged. It wasn’t like he was going to be doing anything else that night, he wasn’t sure he would even sleep if he got home after he and Wilbur’s excursion, yet… He didn’t want to be home alone, the quiet of his enchanted room seeping into his bones and clawing throughout his system until he didn’t think he could ever really know the meaning of rest fully again.

Wilbur smiled down at him, leaning back from the desk, a look behind his eyes that Tommy couldn’t read, perhaps he didn’t want to read it either.

“I’ll pick you up after work then.”

***

Apparently Wilbur ‘actually did stuff’ and ‘had a job he needed to attend to’ so for the first time since the man came in, Wilbur did not end up spending the afternoon with Tommy.

That was fine, Tommy knew he had things to do, everyone did. Yet the lights of the library seemed dimmer around him as he rested his chin in his arms. Though the sun shone through the skylights above nothing felt warm. While the library was usually quiet, this silence walked up the back of Tommy’s neck like a spider creeping along his skin.

Siren obviously knew where he worked, how else would he have found him the night before? The words from the night and his dreams blended together in his mind as Tommy kept himself fully aware of every little thing that was going on in the library in front of him. ‘Stay still’ the words said, and Tommy couldn’t tell if they were from his sleep or his waking moments on that street.

Siren could be watching him right now, head peaked behind the corners of books, hidden in the sparing shadows despite the bright sunlight, or maybe even watching down from the skylights.

Tommy wanted Wilbur to come back. He wanted him to sit at the tables in front of Tommy’s desk as he did each day. He wanted Wilbur to pipe up with his odd facts throughout the day, to tell him the little things he was thinking of.

It was selfish of Tommy to want Wilbur here with him. Tommy wanted Wilbur as a comfort in the light and quiet of the library despite the danger it could put him in should Siren see their relationship. Tommy didn’t think Siren would do something as low as kidnapping one of Tommy’s loved ones, or even friends in order for whatever debt the Villain thought he owed Tommy to be repaid on his own terms, but then again, he would have thought the man would have killed him last night on that dark street and not told him that he owed Tommy. Siren was unpredictable these days.

It was all so confusing. Tommy just wanted Dream, or Sapnap, and though his mind dreaded admitting it, he didn’t think he could dip lower, because he wanted Wilbur there as well. Wilbur was a solid anchor in this ocean of normality that Tommy barely understood. He didn’t spend a lot of time in the civilian world, so everything seemed so foreign. So when Wilbur was there to guide him along, smile on his face and those eyes so deep and knowing? Tommy felt better.

Was that selfish? Tommy would say it was.

The rest of Tommy’s shift went by in tenseness, his eyes on the ceiling, the doors, the windows and across the park.

Why did Wilbur have to have a job? That was a personal insult to Tommy, it really was. Still, Tommy ignored the way his shoulders loosened and he melted back into his desk chair just the slightest as Wilbur walked through the library doors, his face neutral as he waved across the books and wood of the building towards Tommy.

It was a relief, and that feeling would be pushed to the back of Tommy’s mind because he didn’t want to show that kind of weakness to WIlbur, not now.

The man’s steps up to the desk were slow, and if Tommy didn’t know the man better, or maybe if he did, he would have said they were calculated as well.

Tommy felt his hope drop as Wilbur got closer, the man’s mouth pressed into a thin line. This was a look that Tommy had seen so many times before, usually in the system when his agent came up to tell him something serious…

Something disappointing.

When Wilbur got close enough to the desk he spoke, his tone conveying everything Tommy thought it would, conveying everything Tommy expected. “Toms, I know I said I wanted to take you out tonight but,” He bit his lip, Tommy waiting expectantly for the next words, “My dad needs me.” He excused, “So I won’t be able to tonight, how are you for tomorrow though?”

To be fair, Tommy was already half expecting this, people went back on plans all the time, especially with Tommy, so while he wanted to feel overly disappointed on account of the confession, he didn’t feel anything, just that mind numbing void, so familiar to him.

So he waved his hand, dismissing whatever guilty tone Wilbur was putting on. “Tomorrow works for me.” He stated, looking back at his work. This might be better too, in order for Tommy to keep himself further closed off to the civilian world and the problems it could give him, maybe the universe was just doing his work for him now..

Wilbur frowned, then leaned his palms against the desk, “If you like I could buy you food and drop it off at your place after I’m done helping my dad and brother.”

Oh so now it was his dad and brother, the story was growing wasn’t it. Tommy shook himself at the thought, not letting himself sink deeper into that thought that this was all just a lie. He went back to his computer, keeping a frown off his features. “Sure, you can do that if you want.”

Tommy caught the sight of Wilbur shaking his head in the corner of his vision before the man spoke again a lilt to the tone Tommy wanted to sink away from, “Tommy, I was asking if you wanted me to come by, I don’t care what I do tonight,” He shrugged, taking one hand off the desk to slide it into his pocket. “I just want you to be happy, and hopefully–” Tommy Looked up at the pause, seeing Wilbur’s kind and genuine features in the light of the library caused his mind to go blank, “You’ll get some real sleep tonight.”

And..

And… damn, just why did Wilbur have to know every way out there to make Tommy hope again. Of course Wilbur wanted to look out for Tommy, little old library kid with nightmares. Wilbur didn’t have ulterior motives, Wilbur was just WIlbur, and he had been forever.

A shake of his head was all Tommy needed to free himself from his thoughts, from the pure relief that flooded through his veins at the memory that here things were just normal, that civilians like the two of them were now just did things because they had the option to, because they wanted to. They didn’t do things because of favors or through begging because either of them just didn’t take the breaks they needed, or by force, or even through some sense that either of them was responsible for one another.

Tommy supposed they were just friends, so of course Wilbur would ask.

Tommy’s lips drew into a thin line as he looked over the man in front of him once again. “Yeah, come over.” He finally relented, rolling his eyes at the smile that spread across Wilbur’s face though he could feel his own smile tugging at his own features. “I’ll text you my address, you better be bringing a lot of food though.”

Wilbur’s smile brightened Tommy’s mood, his thoughts melting back from the fear and selfishness he had been gripping on to earlier and turning blue and cool, a relief at the sight of someone he was beginning to trust beyond days at the library and dinners at diners.

Maybe he could begin to trust Wilbur more, how could he not with that fiendish smile the man was beginning to give him.

And maybe, just maybe, with Wilbur's help, he could sleep a little better tonight.

Chapter 10: Home?

Chapter Text

Tommy took the bus home that night.

He was happy for the light of the summer sky as it ushered him home, the twilight illuminating the rooftops just enough for Tommy to see everything on them. He was watching, tense, and waiting to see another appearance of Siren through the tension of the night.

He didn’t.

Once he got back to his apartment complex he rushed to the elevator keeping his ears strained and eyes open. He finally rushed to his front door unlocking it with shaking hands and eyes darting up and down the hallway. The door lock clicked, and just as he had the day before Tommy swung the thing open, rushing inside before slamming the door shut, nearly catching his fingers in the process. The door held for a moment… two, and no sound snaked through the cracks from the hallway.

It wasn't reassuring.

Just as he had the night before Tommy locked all the locks on his door, five or six of them Dream had installed himself as a ‘safety precaution’. Tommy hadn’t used them up until now.

Still the hallway outside was quiet, not a single noise breaking through the thick metal of the apartment door, not even as Tommy pressed his ear against the cold metal crack between the door and wall, his breath held, as he waited for any sound.

It’s not like it would really matter if it came down to Siren, wouldn’t it. A few whispered words through that small crack or a well found place on the fire escape outside his window and Tommy would have no chance.

Despite his skill in fighting that had been taught to him by Sapnap and perfected by Dream, there was nothing to do against that sweet thick voice of Siren’s, a smile behind each cruel word like they meant nothing though they promised death.

Against all the others in the Arctic Tommy could do something, do anything. That wasn’t the same with Siren, and Tommy didn’t believe a word the man said outside his power, because the words wrapped in sweet honey that slipped around his victim’s brains were so pure, they revealed everything he wanted while every other thing just tasted like a lie in the thick air.

When still no noise snaked through the crack in the door from the hallway, Tommy let himself relax the slightest bit, taking up his place on his sofa, snatching that sharpened kitchen knife from the stand beside it, the weapon just scratching the blue vase that sat next to it on the stand. A dead carnation lay still and stiff in the dust of the vase.

Tommy held the knife close to him, eyes darting all throughout the apartment as he turned on the television, refusing to relive that fear from the last night.

The news murmured in the background, volume quiet as to let every other noise reach Tommy’s ears.

His phone sat silent and dead in his pocket, and if it were to be opened you would find it on one message sent two hours ago from the library. A quick address and an elevator code right next to ‘apt. 823’. The message was sent a while after Wilbur had left the library, Tommy departing for three hours wondering whether or not to send it in the first place.

It was disappointing, the note to the side of the message last time Tommy had checked it while he was on the bus so only was marked as ‘delivered’ and not ‘read’.

Despite it all Tommy still didn’t expect anything from Wilbur, he didn’t really think the man would show up, not after canceling on him earlier that day.

Tommy really only thought he would be spending time in his apartment alone, just as he had been doing for these past few days.

It was after an hour that Tommy realized his upstairs neighbor wasn’t home and was either at his girlfriend’s place or out at another bar, leaving the space upstairs quiet, such a contrast to the usual banging.

10:15, no word from Wilbur.

Another hour passed before Tommy heard his other neighbors getting home. A few minutes of hushed noise passed before Tommy finally realized they had gone to bed, leaving their side of the wall silent in the late of the night.

11:37, still no message from Wilbur.

One more hour passed, Tommy’s tight grip on his knife having loosened in the slightest bit as the news on the television turned to those late night shows that were just reruns of loved programs from the eighties. He wasn’t interested in them, not as his eyes were glued to the clock below his television.

A few more seconds passed and the clock ticked from 12:59 to 1 am in the morning.

Wilbur wasn’t coming. The man hadn’t even opened Tommy’s text since the last time he checked. It wasn’t like Tommy really minded, the thought that maybe someone was coming over cemented itself to his brain and kept him awake, allert. Tommy was thankful for at least that distraction.

But now that it was one? No way would Wilbur be coming over so late.

Tommy just sighed, eyes drooping in the slightest. Dream said it wasn’t good that he expected nothing out of anyone around him. The man said to give a little trust, at least to him sometimes and he would follow through.

And he had, every time.

Maybe, just maybe, this separation from Dream was causing Tommy to drift back into that state of untrusting, into that state of belief that he needed to do everything for himself…And just maybe that was a good thing, considering that when people he trusts don’t follow through on their promises it just causes him to lose more of that free given hope every time. Not that he had trusted Wilbur to show up or anything, really he didn’t but…

Another sigh and Tommy stood, a flash of moonlight darting through his window from the apartment building next door. He let himself stretch, closing his eyes for the briefest moment.

How long could a human being stay awake for? He was beginning to wonder, his back cracking as he stretched, surely he was reaching the limit, right?

Tommy yawned before walking over to the kitchen, realizing just then that he still had his shoes on from work. Of course he would, he thought to himself, opening the fridge door and staring inside, quickly grabbing what he was looking for: a cold can of Coca Cola, he was so distracted today that of course he would forget to change into anything more comfortable after getting home.

If anything, maybe the Coca Cola would give him the energy he would need to stay up for the rest of the night. He frowned at the thought, cracking open the red can to that light hiss of air. His nightly awakeness had started at a hatred of his nightmares, but in the last few days had changed to a fear of Siren. It was only a matter of time before the villain used the information he had on Tommy to go to his house, right? He had caught him on the way home from work, called him by his real full name and then left. Really. It had to only be a matter of time before he came here, if he wasn’t watching already.

A sharp knock on his apartment door caused Tommy to drop his cola, drawing him to the present, that ghost of a thought of Siren still projected on his brain.

His first thought was that his thoughts had summoned Siren in the darkness of night at one am, the villain’s usual prowling hour. His next thought was that he very much doubted that should Siren come to visit him at his house he would give Tommy the warning first of a knock on his front door, probably going to opt to break through the window or door instead.

And the third thought, the third thought told him that that was Wilbur, coming to visit him finally after having to do what he needed to to help his brother and dad, if that had been what he was really doing tonight.

That hope that Tommy had…or didn’t have, because he had no trust Wilbur would show up tonight…Anyway, a new kind of hope dripped throughout Tommy’s tired brain, and while his body begged him to rest, to sit back down on the couch and ignore it, his mind pulled him to the front of the apartment, shoes tracking his spilled drink across the floor, uncaring of it at this stage of exhaustion.

When he got to his front door he hesitated for just a second on the other side. His eyes peered from afar out that little peep hole in the metal of the entrance. He would have stayed there a few moments longer, thinking up what to say when he finally opened the door, maybe a mock at Wilbur for being up so late, or maybe quip a little nudge of a joke that he was just so late and how Tommy didn’t think he was coming, but another knock on the door shook him from his thoughts, and he raised himself on his toes, taking a look outside the door through that little glass hole to see…

To see something one hundred times better than he would have ever expected.

Tommy’s hands fumbled with the locks, swinging open the door for the thing to be resisted by the one last chain lock on the top of the door. He slid the thing unlocked, near shaking as he finally, finally opened the door.

A warm smile and bright green eyes greeted Tommy, and the boy didn’t hesitate for a second before throwing his arms around the person because that was Dream who had come to visit him so late in the night. Dream who laughed at Tommy’s hug, wrapping one arm around the boy while the other held a large paper bag by the handles, the bag swinging with the force of Tommy’s hug.

He didn’t believe it, squeezing Dream tighter as the man continued to laugh, incomprehensible words dripping through the air.

After a minute Dream pushed Tommy away, leading the boy back through his apartment door as their laughter continued because they were there.

They were together again, finally.

Tommy shut the door behind the two of them, doing up all the locks once again. He felt Dream’s eyes on him even as the man walked further into the apartment, setting that paper bag of food atop Tommy’s coffee table.

Dream settled down onto the sofa, eyes wandering across the apartment like he had never been there before, then again, Tommy had rearranged all the furniture once or twice during his sleepless nights so he could understand.

Dream wore no mask now, why would he need to? In the comfort of Tommy’s home, of his neighborhood they had that luxury of feeling safe, of knowing they would be fine here…

On second thought, Tommy strode over to his windows, further closing the slightly opened blinds as Dream’s eyes followed him, the man keeping in silence. Tommy did have someone who knew where he lived and worked after all. It would be best if Tommy kept safe, if he kept up those walls he spent so long building, even in the presence of someone he trusted.

The light ‘skhee’ of his shoes sticking to the floor caused Tommy to look down, glaring at the sight beneath him. His spilled drink still sat on the kitchen floor, the sugary substance becoming sticky on the bottom of his shoes.

He sighed at that, the fear of the past few moments having chased the accident from his mind. “Want anything to drink?” Tommy called from the kitchen, picking up the dropped can from the floor and throwing it away before grabbing a fistfull of paper towels from the counter.

“Nah, I got something at the store, maybe later though.” Dream replied, and his voice eased through Tommy’s ears in their own wrap of comfort, one Tommy desperately had missed but only acknowledged that deep pain now that he had it back. There was a pause in speech as Tommy continued to wipe up the sticky floor, refusing for his socks to catch on the most minimal of stick the next day; he didn’t need that kind of inconvenience in his life.

A small chuckle drew Tommy’s gaze back to the living room where Dream was sitting on the couch, both feet propped up on the table in front of him, eyes turned upwards and closed to the calming aura of the building around. “That’s the first time I think I’ve ever seen you lock all those locks on your door.” Another laugh, though the first words caused Tommy to stiffen in his movements, the wiping of the floor that looked more organic before now felt robotic, forced.

Tommy just hummed in response, but of course damn Dream picked up on the change of feeling throughout the room, continuing on voice softer, more comforting than a moment before, they made Tommy want to go sit on the couch next to the man and just spill everything, tell him his regrets, his fears, what had happened during the past night, what happened in the basem*nt just a week ago…

“I didn’t know that Siren asking around for you would hit you this hard…” A pause, the air thick with emotion, with Tommy’s held breath, hand clenched around the wet paper towels in his hand. “I’m sorry Tommy, I should have let you stay with us in Pogtopia earlier, It was a mistake having you stay out here all alone.” The words eased Tommy’s strained mind.

Tommy stood, glancing over to Dream. His hands now sat folded against his knees, shoes set flat on the floor, he had his bottom lip bit between his teeth as his green eyes stared unseeing at the floor below.

Tommy shifted from foot to foot, throwing away the dirty paper towels before wiping his wet hands against his jeans. Relief trickled into his veins, and even as he slid his hands into his back pockets he felt that tension in his body ease in just the slightest. “So you’re saying that you want me back because HQ got too boring all the way out there without me?” A smile crept across Tommy’s features, quickly followed by a smile of Dream’s.

“Oh it’s horrible.” Dream stated, shoulders visibly dropping their tension at Tommy’s jest. “They’re just so boring, you know how they can be Tommy, it’s just the worst there without you.”

Tommy had said it before and he would say it again: He hated serious discussions, and thankfully Dream knew that too, understanding when to switch from serious to casual in moments when he noticed Tommy getting too tense.

Maybe Dream just knew Tommy too well, reading the signs of his house, his own body language, even the state of the blinds when he entered because he went on, pushing Tommy in the way the boy just knew he would.

“You’ve been having nightmares again,” Dream paused, breaking their held eye contact for just a moment to flash a look towards the fully locked door, “haven’t you.”

It wasn’t a question, it wasn’t an accusation, it wasn’t a demand, it was a statement, one both Dream and Tommy knew was true.

Their gaze held, Dream’s eyes so bright and piercing in the harsh light of the apartment, such a contrast to his concerned look. Tommy was the first to look away, keeping himself from biting his lip at the statement. Still he nodded, a confirmation neither of them really needed.

A beat of quiet passed, then two.

“Come back to Pogtopia with me tonight.” Dream said, eyes going over Tommy’s sunken features in the same way Wilbur’s had earlier that day at the look of the tired and worn down Tommy in front of him. “HQ still thinks that it’s too soon to bring you back, that you might still be at some sort of risk, but you know me.” That ever familiar smile spread back across Dream’s face, and to Tommy it felt like a ray of sunlight breaking through a ghost of storm clouds, illuminating everything around him. “I did my own research, so did Quackity and Foolish and Sapnap and George, even the Ghost and Ponk helped out.” One more pause, “Siren is bold, but not bold enough to go after and kill you while you’re alone, he has his honor, they all do. And he’s not looking for you anymore, he’s focused on another project.”

This peaked Tommy’s attention. “He and the Arctic tonight–”

“Hold on.” Tommy interrupted, leaning his back against the counter behind him and folding his arms in front of him, that signature sh*t eating grin of his spreading back across his face. “You really decided to start your story without giving me the food you brought to my house first? Rude.”

Dream rolled his eyes, waving Tommy over to the couch and opening the paper bag in front of them, letting Tommy dig through for a moment and get comfortable before beginning again. “You know how the Arctic is, they usually go after things that’ll hurt the President, we’ve noticed that from them.” A sigh as Dream’s eyes turned back to the bag of food, he reached for the basket of fries inside. “Tonight was just some of the same, the three of them going after President Schlatt’s lab. They got away with it, we just don’t know what they took yet.”

The Arctic really did have something against President Schlatt, the lab confirmed it after nearly every one of their missions, taking the evaluations from everyone on sight. They never figured out why though. The Arctic was difficult after all, they were mysterious to say the least.

The thoughts of the group brought Tommy back to Siren. He had been so quick to find Tommy, and yet all Tommy had been focusing on was his fear of the villain, the bone chilling thoughts that that man would most likely be Tommy’s end. He forgot just how human he was, how human he had been at least on that night, and just how predictable his motivations were.

Tommy was scared, how could he not be when he thought with his entire mind that Siren was after him because he saw Tommy as a loose end. Tommy thought Siren saw him as someone who had seen the man at his weakest, his most vulnerable, something Siren couldn’t have in this eye for an eye world.

Tommy shivered, the motion caught Dream’s eye but the man said nothing, keeping to his fries. Siren had found Tommy so easily, what if Tommy returned the favor? He had seen Siren’s face, well… he didn’t remember what the man looked like so Tommy supposed that wouldn’t help him.

But the thought still remained. Maybe Tommy could find Siren right back and have what Siren had on him.

“The Arctic really does have something against the President.” A smile from Tommy. “They’re not very subtle with their hatred of him, though I don’t know why they would be.”

A chuckle passed through Dream’s half full mouth, he swallowed before responding. “That’s why they’re one of headquarter’s biggest threats, anything for Schlatt. Right?”

That was true. Usually heroes were left to their own devices, left to roam around the city looking for their own crime to stop until a bigger threat arrived.

President Schlatt was important however, without him the country would collapse, no matter how much Tommy disliked the man he had to say it. He was important, he kept the country afloat, therefore, when it concerned the President, headquarters was always up in arms, ready to defend the man.

Even if it was from the Arctic.

Tommy could remember more than one occasion where he was assigned to guard the President during an event, Tommy on one side of the president, Dream on the other. The boy was medical support, and on more than one occasion, while he hated to admit it, both he and Dream had failed to the point where Tommy had to nearly bring Schlatt back from the dead.

They had saved him though, and Siren or Blade or even Angel would flee the scene, Siren usually promising Tommy a long drawn out death that would chill the boy to his core. He would have nightmares of death on those nights too, the thoughts of them keeping him awake or playing out in his sleep.

Tearing his mind from the thoughts of nightmares, Tommy looked back to Dream, finishing with his food. “So…” He drew out, leaning back on his hands, “HQ is letting me go back to Pogtopia now? When do we leave?”

Dream snickered, setting the near finished fries aside. He raised his eyebrows, sucking a breath through his teeth, looking anywhere but at Tommy, “Not HQ…” He muttered, the words sounding like an admission to Tommy’s ears. “I’m taking you back, like I said, HQ thinks that it’s too soon to bring you back. But come on Tommy,” Dream leaned back into the softness of the sofa, “You don’t do great alone, I know that.” He took a deep breath, the silence between them saying so much though no noise passed between them. Dream knew about Tommy’s nightmares, he had been there most nights waking Tommy from the blood and fear of sleep with soft pulls against his chest as he eased the boy back to sleep, often staying by his side all throughout the night.

The confession eased Tommy. Dream stuck to the rules, it was just in his nature, but now? He was proving something else to Tommy, that he cared more about the boy than he cared about conforming to whatever headquarters wanted.

“Yeah,” Tommy snickered, rolling his eyes, ignoring the warmth in the knowledge that Dream just knew him so well. Some of that hope in trust returned at the thought. “I’ve been dying here all alone.” Tommy ignored the absolute truth in that confession, playing it off as he always did.

A soft pull came across Dream’s features, eyes kind in the light of the living room. “You look it too.” He stated leaning over to nudge Tommy’s side, “Have you been getting any sleep?”

Tommy rolled his eyes, the air between them kind, full of jokes. “Just take me back man, I’m dying all alone here.” He then stood to stretch, back cracking in the process, “If anything I know I’ll be getting sleep back home.”

He was avoiding answering Dream directly. He was worrying, he usually did when he could tell something was off with Tommy, and while Tommy wanted to just lay all his worries down into Dream’s hands, he knew he couldn’t do that.

Not with the weight of those worries.

Dream would act up, probably find Siren himself and kill him if he had heard what had happened last night. And if Dream learned what Tommy did the week before in that cold bloodied basem*nt? Overextending himself for the sole purpose of not letting another person die in front of him? Dream would probably promise he would never have to go through something of the sort again. Whether that be being trapped alone with Tommy’s most feared villain or overextending himself.

All things considered, Tommy thought that should he tell Dream the happenings between him and Siren this past week, he would know exactly what the man would both say and do. He could perdick his actions down to a T, and maybe that’s exactly why he didn’t want to tell Dream.

Before, he had refused to tell Dream because the man stuck to the rules of Pogtopia: the rules HQ set in place for all of them. That still stood true. Bringing Tommy back home and doing so behind the backs of everyone at HQ was a whole different story from hiding the fact that not only did Tommy Heal Siren, but hide the fact that he was both after him, and told Tommy he owed him a favor.

Two completely different things.

Even thinking about it now caused Tommy to hide those thoughts further in his chest, closing his mouth to the scream that would come in the fearful knowledge that Siren knew who he was.

This was for him to deal with, he was not going to put this on Dream, the worry and fear it would give the man was just too much for Tommy, and if he could avoid putting the man in such a position, he would.

He would go to Quackity. Quackity kept secrets, and if anything, if he thought it was too much for Tommy to handle, whatever he planned that was, he wasn’t about to go to Dream about it.

Dream stood from the sofa, doing his own stretch in the wide space of Tommy’s apartment living room. “I mean, if you’re done eating we can head back now.” He beamed, that smile ever so bright on his features. The look eased the tension that came from Tommy’s thoughts, and he couldn’t help but roll his eyes back at Dream, his own smile half suppressed.

So Tommy nodded, and that was all the confirmation Dream needed. The man walked to the door, beginning to unlock each of the locks Tommy had just done up minutes before as Tommy himself grabbed his things. His things being his phone, keys, and wallet.

Tommy locked the door as they left, and the walk down to Dream’s car as well as the relaxing music and consistent thrum of the vehicle below them helped Tommy to feel at peace, finally. For the first time during that week, as Tommy sat in the passenger seat of Dream’s car, he felt fine.

Pogtopia wasn’t much of a different story once they got out of the car in the parking garage. They wouldn’t say Dream exactly sneaked Tommy into Pogtopia, but they did just happen to take the back routes to their place, not that Dream would get in trouble for bringing Tommy back or anything.

Dream closed their door quietly behind him, mask on his face and a kind of giddiness to his movements that Tommy recognized.

He sent Tommy to bed soon after, and while Tommy complained back that he wasn’t some kid who needed a bedtime, he was relieved to finally feel tired.

So he waved the hero off, getting himself ready to sleep, giving him the quietest goodnight before swinging his door inwards, leaving the thing a crack open in the dark of his room.

There was something in knowing that there was someone just there to help you through the night.

Sleep did not come fast to Tommy that night, but it still came. The relief that filled Tommy at finally being home made Tommy forget about another message he sent, the little box by the contact titled “Wilbur S.” having turned from the word ‘delivered’ to ‘received’ at some point throughout the night, a time Tommy didn’t care to know.

Yet why should Tommy care? He wouldn’t, not when his eyes finally shut and breathing steadied, his mind finally being dragged into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter 11: Some wounds don't heal

Chapter Text

Pain laced through his side as Wilbur sat on the rooftop opposite Tommy’s apartment building, his figure hidden in the shadows as blood dark and wet crept its way past his fingers.

It was late, far too late into the night for Wilbur to do anything but sit on this dirty rooftop and make sure Tommy was okay.

It was his fault, really, the boy not being asleep at this time, how could it not be? He had promised him he would stop by just for his mission with the Arctic to go… unexpectedly. Then again, anything that had to do with any of Schlatt’s compounds usually went in an unexpected way.

There was loose laughter, banter that would only stop with the rising of the sun, playing out all throughout the night in a light blue play of smiles and laughter.

Wilbur shifted his body back up against the air conditioning unit atop the apartment building, eyes still trained across the street on one specific window. It’s blinds were now shut to the outside world. Blood still leaked weakly from the wound at his side, one that the bastard Dream had given him that night.

It was supposed to be a simple mission, and it started as one.

Quiet stepps between buildings, careful peeks around corners that yielded no obstacles for them in the foreseeable future, and then? A crackling through his earpiece, a shift in looks towards the Blade walking not too far behind him, drawing that dangerous sword at the Angel’s warning that they had been discovered.

In that moment Wilbur had been sure it was Quackity far out in his casino that had slipped the information Wilbur had asked him in confidence to the highest buyer. He should have expected it. With that too sharp smile and those piercing eyes, Wilbur thought he was just having a bad day. The way the man hid harsh emotions behind smiles and laughter that cut dangerously through the air.

They had been close before, Quackity and Wilbur, during the time of the revolution years ago. But their friendship had gone stale with the building of the city, it had gone rancid with the tight sew of the power in the government rising, a chasm opening between the two. It didn’t help after what happened between Quackity and his two fiances either, the man turned harsh after that, closing off any emotion to the outside world like it was his only vulnerability.

They didn’t know each other anymore, not the important parts at least, so Wilbur would do what he always did to catch that upper hand. He would poke at all the spots he knew would get Quackity to soak in fury. He would ease past those defenses as he did so many times before and rip the man’s beating heart from his chest and smile as the pain of remembrance and feelings long gone crossed his face.

“Why would they care?” Wilbur remembers saying once in a dimly lit room in the casino, Quackity sitting across the room from him, eyes everywhere but Siren. “You said it yourself, you don’t have any history with them, nothing that matters to them at least.” He knew the words would push the casino owner over that line the moment they had crossed his lips, and the pure look of hatred that crossed the other’s features had confirmed it.

“We have history” Quackity had then said, his fists unclenching from their wrathful curl, a look of defeat or maybe just exhaustion came over him. His body slumped back against his chair. “And they wouldn’t care, you’re right about that, but I don’t need them to.” Back was that look of nonchalance, that eased posture, as if the words that had struck him so deep moments before no longer meant anything.

Wilbur had been a bastard then, he knew he had. Quackity in those days after seeing his two fiances go was just in this position of hatred and a numbness that Wilbur could relate to all too well.

He shouldn’t have been surprised then when they were at that lab run by Schlatt and Dream appeared, Ember and a few others right at his heels, a distinct lack of Theseus that Wilbur couldn’t help but take note of.

He knew the hero headquarters would retaliate against his not-so-subtle search for Theseus, if anything he thought they would be hiding him out in Pogtopia, ever guarded and ever secure. What he didn’t think was that they would shove him away to his civilian life to… what? To keep him safer? Off the radar for just a little bit until they thought Siren was done with him?

Wilbur would have never thought Dream, who was always so quick to be by Theseus’ side would allow that kind of thing, would allow for the boy to be sent off all alone to the far reaches of the city.

He shouldn’t have been surprised when Dream showed up without Theseus to back him up. If anything, he was surprised the hero hadn’t gone all out on him, demanded an answer as to how he knew Tommy.

And yet… Nothing.

Not a peep regarding Theseus or Tommy at all. Just cold, unforgiving fights that now left Wilbur sat leaning over the edge of a building, blood still dripping through his fingers as he came to check, came to see if he really was alright, despite that broken promise that had clung to the back of Wilbur’s mind, even as a knife tore through his side by Dream’s hand.

It had to be late now, but Wilbur hadn’t checked the time in so long, instead opening Tommy’s text to him to see which apartment was his.

The lights flickered off through the window of apartment number 823. Maybe that meant Tommy was getting some sleep, or maybe it just meant he had given up on Wilbur.

He was ashamed of himself. He saw that look of distrust on Tommy’s face and still he was sitting here on the rooftop opposite his place, reinforcing every reason as to why Tommy should not believe the promises of others.

Wilbur wanted to fix that so bad. He wanted to be the one to drag Tommy’s mind from the dust, to make him promises that Wilbur would never break. He wanted to be the one to drag Tommy in close to his chest and promise him that it would all be okay, just as Tommy had done to him that night as Wilbur was so close to death, ready to let his enemy Theseus finally take his life after all the threats he had given him in the past.

In that moment as he watched Theseus limping closer to him in the cold and wet of the basem*nt, he had thought that he deserved any death that Theseus gave him in that moment.

But Theseus had let him live, had pulled him close and promised against all logic in either of their minds that Siren would be okay.

That he would live.

And Wilbur wanted that again. That comfort, that security, that secret held between two that would never leave his mind.

He loved that comfort, no matter how pathetic that was to admit.

The darkened apartment windows mocked him, they were a reminder of a broken promise to an already untrusting kid.

He could go, grab something from down the street and knock on the door, but that would lead to questions Wilbur just couldn’t answer. His side was still sliced open and he needed to go back to Phil and Techno’s place sooner rather than later to get patched up, it wasn’t the worst cut he had ever gotten, but then again, the worst one had nearly been the death of him.

On shaky legs and a bitten lip Wilbur stood, removing his veil from his face, the emptiness of the roof consuming him down to his soul, the darkness and just pure aloneness gripping to his mind and wrapping it’s oh so kind and cold arms, arms held too tightly around his torso and squeezing until each breath that passed Wilbur’s lips felt like his last.

Tomorrow. Wilbur would apologize tomorrow and make sure that he got it through Tommy’s thick skull that he could be trusted, that this was all Wilburs fault and not his.

Something about the boy told Wilbur that he expected this, that he expected the least out of everyone around him and when he got more than he bargained for he was surprised. Wilbur wanted to be dependable to Tommy, he wanted to be something to rely on in contrast to Tommy’s every thought.

He wanted to be unpredictable to the point where Tommy only saw the best in him, even when he was his worst.

Was that Selfish?

***

Maybe if he had worked harder in the beginning. Rigged the votes or done more campaigning he would be remembered now as the traitor leader. He would prefer that to this compressive state of unknowing, of unfeeling.

He remembers those smiles from the beginning, the shouts of hope and joy and pure freedom.

It wasn’t like that anymore, this place, these buildings built so far up into the sky were lost for their true meaning, and if not that, then they had lost their original meaning. Red and blue and gold were replaced for a sharp and cold black, menacing and hanging over the skies in a command.

In a warning.

Things had to have been better then right? Because it was him, him who figured out everything, who built it all from scrap, challenging the god of these lands and demanding this land to be theirs, so they all might finally live and grow.

He got everything he wanted. He got everything he worked for.

And now he was left with nothing but a bitter regret towards the world.

***

Tommy indeed was a reminder to Wilbur, if anything, that there was still that kind of growth in the world that could not be trampled by the harsh boots of an uncaring president and a broken nation.

He was everything Wilbur hoped he would be at a young age: loved, appreciated, never hungry.

Wilbur was a street kid, he could tell Tommy had been one once as well. The way his eyes darted with every change of emotion on Wilbur’s face, the little to no trust he had in everyone around him. Was Dream trying to coax that trust from him too? To show him that some people do care?

That’s what Philza had done to Wilbur in his younger years, before L’manberg was formed as its own nation, before it broke Wilbur.

Everything about the boy Wilbur could understand: the hesitance, the eyes so deep and old for the age of their owner, even the way he spoke, such a silly manner regarding topics so serious in the eyes of others. When he looked into those sunken eyes the night Tommy had brought him up to the roof of the library, smile on his face and nothing but pure contentedness in each of his motions like a butterfly in the sweet summer air, or maybe even just a raccoon who found a valuable treasure hidden in the depths of trash, something so disgusting and gross. Wilbur saw himself reflected in that stare, himself when he was only a boy with a dream, ready to take on the world with those closest to him by his side.

That excitement and trust in the world had faded long ago, only resurfacing in the most unexpected moments like a whale rising from the ocean for air in the dead of night, the only witnesses the stars shining from billions of miles away.

Before L’manberg was its own nation there was only disorder, something close to but not quite chaos. Wilbur had been born and raised in those times, Tommy had to have been alive then too, but just barely a kid. If you found someone old enough they would probably remember those times before heroes used their powers for the good of the nation and villains rose to counter them. L’manberg after all was still a very new nation, just understanding how to walk properly without stumbling and throwing the lives of millions out of line.

The disorder was understandable, the near chaos almost fun in the eyes of the immortals that roamed the world. And yet if there was something that reminded Wilbur of that near chaos of the times before L’manberg, he would say it was Tommy.

Strange, unpredictable, absolutely crazy Tommy.

Specifically Tommy’s ability to stomach the dryness of a sandwich with only bread and chicken, no tomatoes or pickles or lettuce to accompany it.

Tubbo stared blankly at Wilbur who had just ordered something new from the menu, now biting his bottom lip, hoping to the god that ruled this land that a sandwich or two from Tommy’s favorite place would earn his forgiveness.

“Two of Tommy’s favorites too if you will.” He told the boy behind the counter, nothing but a smile on his face, the rest of his features hidden by that long hair.

He nodded, typing something into the machine in front of him. Then with a tilt of his head that seemed almost inhuman, “Will that be all for you?” He bubbled, bouncing on the balls of his feet, that smile that marked his face ever the same, and ever as eerie as it had been that first night.

Wilbur didn’t know. What was he supposed to ask for? What was something you brought a kid you let down without buying the whole menu and straining your stitches with the weight of the bags?

It had been a nasty cut last night, one that even Phil had sworn about when looking at it. It was a deep red thing, still bleeding slowly by the time Wilbur had gotten home, much to the dismay of his father. Phil had cleaned it and stitched it, Wilbur laying on the bed in their spare room, a room that had once been his. He kept his eyes shut at the feel, gritting his teeth together until they squeaked in his own ears, the sound distracting him from the pain in his side.

Techno, of course, laughed at him because of it, saying that if he had just trained with him he wouldn’t be facing an injury this bad now. Wilbur, of course had told him to f*ck off, even though he himself knew that his brother was right and he couldn’t always rely on his power of persuasion to get out of every situation.

“Honey dipped words only get you so far” Phil scolded him once, fixing a similar injury to this one on his shoulder. “Once a songbird loses its voice it still has its claws, you don’t have claws to use right now.”

Phil was right then, as he frustratingly always was, but Wilbur hated hand to hand combat. He could fight with a crossbow no problem, the arrows slicing through air thick with adrenaline and curses the same way his words did in the best of times.

And yet, in the one time he might have needed those hand to hand skills more than ever, his enemy turned around and did the most unexpected thing.

And for what?

Once Wilbur’s injury had been taken care of last night, Phil’s cool fingers had ghosted over a thin white scar, one that sat just above the injury from that night. The man frowned, wings shifting in the slightest and confusion flickering across his features.

“What’s this one from?” The man questioned, Techno’s eyes drifting from the book he sat with in the chair across the room to the scar their father’s hands were tracing like it was some forign thing.

Lies never came very easily to Wilbur, they caught in his throat and choked him until he could do nothing but stare dead eyed ahead, the only way to keep secrets hidden in silence. But Wilbur couldn’t lie to Phil, he never really could, so he said the best thing he could to keep that secret of his hidden close to him.

“It’s a long story,” He couldn’t meet the prying eyes of his father or brother then, opting to stare at the floor like it was the most interesting thing in the world. “I can’t tell you just yet.”

And so the question passed, Phil shrugging and Techno going back to his book, mumbling something about how great a story it must be for Wilbur to not be telling it.

It might have been selfish of him to keep something so precious and small close to himself, to tuck it away and hope no one would dare search for it. Was it hope that clung to the memory? Hope that people did indeed care? Hope that the next generation could grow up to be better than the last?

Wilbur wanted it to be. That night could have been anything: guilt, pain, perseverance, spite… but something in Wilbur told him that Theseus… Tommy had acted out of pure care. An untrustful product of this world putting his trust in one thing.

Wilbur could learn from that, he knew he could.

“Ummmmm…” Wilbur looked over the menu, rubbing the back of his neck with an awkwardness he didn’t know he possessed. He had confidence usually, that’s how his power worked, his words of persuasion seeping past being just a god given blessing at birth. He could persuade using other thick words and confident stares, but the nervousness that took over his system now? That was a problem, especially given how frequently it was happening now in things that concerned Tommy.

“What else here does Tommy really like?” Wilbur questioned.

Tubbo tilted his head to the side, the gesture looking almost animalistic in Wilbur’s eyes. Then again, Tubbo had to be a goat hybrid of some sort given those horns, and Wilbur hadn’t gotten the greatest look at his eyes yet but he would bet anything the boy would have those goat-like rectangular pupils. You rarely saw someone with horns without those kinds of eyes.

The boy tapped his finger against the counter a few times, head moving across the mini menu that stuck taped to the counter by the register. “I guess he likes Coca Cola.” he supplied, a ring on his finger glinting as he pointed down the menu, “That and ice cream I guess.” A look at Wilbur, “I don’t think he’s ever ordered all of his favorites in one go though bossman.”

Wilbur only waved his hand through the air, dismissing the words because he didn’t really care. He slid his wallet from his pocket, “How much for all of that then?”

Tubbo tilted his head once more, looking over the register and typing in the two last things, not caring too much that Wilbur had just dismissed his advice, more into Wilbur’s order than anything. “Mmm…” He flipped around the screen, showing Wilbur the price.

Wilbur nodded, handing over the cash, and soon enough, Wilbur was out the door and making his way towards the library, a heavy drag in each of his steps that he solely blamed on the weight of the bag in his hands.

This wasn’t very ethical, was it? Wilbur was inserting himself into Tommy’s life for the sole reason of his piqued interest in the kid. He could blame the need to be close to him on guilt, that would be easy. Maybe even shove the fault into the hands of his need to repay the boy for his actions, for his life. The real reason was that Wilbur didn’t know why he was keeping the boy so close to him.

Well… He did know the reason, he just refused to let those words sitting in the back of his mind covered in pain and dust into the light of speech. He wouldn’t even let them into the light of thought.

Tommy reminded Wilbur of himself.

It was that simple, it really was. Wilbur just didn’t want Tommy to, well, be used in the same way he had been at that age.

Maybe that untrustworthiness was warranted, deserved.

The library wasn’t that far of a walk away, it had seemed shorter the night before, but then again, it was in that night that time had flown in the same way conversation had between both Wilbur and Tommy.

While on that night all the stores on the way toward the library had been closed, they now were open, lights on and people laughing as they walked from one clothing store to the next, plastic and paper bags hung over their arms like they were Christmas ornaments on a tree.

The street was active; Each person going blissfully through their lives with smiles on their faces and no worries behind their eyes.

How naive of them.

Wilbur hashed it out every night with his enemies, hands gripped around bloody paper as his skin tore through fire or swords. Curses spun across streets, threats of death and the consistent memory and knowing that he would not stop.

These people lived their lives in the light of the sun, laughter on their breaths and happiness they carried with them to their homes in the night. They lived in bliss, in ignorance of all the worse things in the nation that with just one hint of recognition, could be fixed.

Even after the independence of the nation of L’manberg from the cruel god of the land and the nation was settled into a new kind of ‘peace’, Wilbur had cradled dying friends or kids in his arms out in the dirty alleyways of the streets, either sickness crawling across their too young skin or injuries that had their organs spilling out across the cobbled pathways…It was too much, and it happened far too often.

But why should these people care, he didn’t blame them for going through their lives with this kind of happiness, or at least he didn’t want to blame them.

Deaths were the business of heroes, at least, deaths of the known. The system was flawed however, cracked from the moment it was created, continuing to fall apart behind faked smiles and assurances that ‘things were being fixed.’

When those unknown died however? Their sobbing bodies letting out their last breaths of air in the far reaches of the nation all the way into its heart and hidden inside those broken cracks of a straining nation to the point anyone would have thought the city was trying to patch up it’s cracked foundations with the bodies of their hated…

Those deaths were on everyone else, those were usually who the vigilantes worked for. Taking the bodies of their friends or relatives or even the people unknown to them to the Ghost.

The Ghost always held the smallest of ceremonies, releasing the trapped souls of the forgotten dead into eternity. If anyone was doing god’s work in this damned nation, it was them.

Finally, the library came into view, the light of the sun reflecting off the large windows making the library look golden, heavenly even. Wilbur had taken the bus across town today, not trusting himself and his injury enough to drive in the strain of stitches and the fogged mind of painkillers. Worst case scenario, was he passed out and got into a fiery car crash and died, best case scenario was he would get a stern yelling at by Phil for taking the risk. Wilbur, not wanting either of those things and feeling far too tired to drive at all, went with the bus.

It was nice, seeing all the places across town through the view of a bus. They took extra turns, went down streets Wilbur had never seen before. It was like looking out at the world through a colored lens. He saw new houses, parks, stores, and it was… refreshing, a break from his other life in such a way that Wilbur began to understand just why most heroes they knew about had lives and jobs outside of hero work.

Maybe he needed that too, that kind of break from the bloody and hateful fights of the streets. A break from panting in the cold depths of a basem*nt, waiting for death to pull your soul, kicking and screaming, from the depths of your body to send it off into nothing. A break from slow healing injuries or even just the constant thoughts of ‘what next?’ of worry.

Wilbur stumbled halfway through the parking lot on a crack in the pavement, pulling at the stitches on his side. He needed to pause for a moment, setting down the bag of food and leaning up against an unlit street lamp, one hand to the metal as a light wave of nausea and fog swept over his mind.

Maybe today wasn’t the best day to go out and buy gifts for Tommy’s forgiveness, especially so soon after a f*ck up like this one. He had had worse, sure, the worst being one moment away from death, but they always still hurt. You get used to the pain, like the first week with braces, but it still never really goes away. It pulls at your skin and teeth until all you want to do is yank it out to be rid of the pain.

Sucking in a breath through his nose Wilbur counted the fog and nausea away, getting to forty three before he felt ready enough to stand. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment longer, relishing in the feeling of just his hand on the cool metal. With a final sigh, he leaned back over slowly, picking up the bag of food and continuing out on his way, pushing the handicap button to watch the doors open automatically in front of him.

The library, unlike usual, was very loud today, then again, it was a Saturday afternoon or something so Wilbur shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was. It was a bit annoying, Wilbur had to admit.

Parents sat with their children across the carpeted area of picture books, off in the far corner of the library through closed blinds in what could only be a room dedicated to the teens of the library he heard the faint rumble of a movie going on, lights flickering around the edges of the darkened windows.

It even looked like there was a game happening on the far side of the library near the desk, a woman with a bright flower crown reading aloud a story with so much energy Wibur wondered if she worked there before spotting the glimmer of a nametag on her pink collared shirt, too far away for Wilbur to read what it said.

Wilbur’s eyes shifted around the library, taking in just the incredible number of people that he never knew the library was capable of holding. His eyes caught, and Wilbur did a double take, forcing his feet to move.

“Tommy!” He exclaimed, just getting close enough to the blonde boy, his long sleeve blue shirt just about glowing in the light of the sun through the skylights above.

A ruffle of hair and the slightest of movement and there he was, Tommy, looking up at Wilbur from behind the desk, head resting on his arms like he had been planning on sleeping. The boy even gave Wilbur a look that said he had interrupted his attempt at sleep, but today…

“You look like you actually got sleep for once last night.” Wilbur commented, then, forcing his mind to backpedal, he started again, noting the slight frown drawn across Tommy’s awake, if not still a little tired face. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it.” He heaved the paper bag on top of the counter, “I had a cooking accident so my dad had to take care of it.”

A lie, a bald faced lie, and it tasted sour slipping from Wilbur’s mouth like pure lemon juice. And still, it was a necessary lie, one Wilbur needed to be accepted.

Tommy seemed like the kind of person who wouldn’t catch lies easily, too caught up in just living life to really care. And yet the look he gave Wilbur, just barely raising his head from his arms said he saw everything. This was not the first time he had been lied to in this same way.

And Wilbur… Wilbur didn’t think he could forgive himself for giving the boy more reasons to distrust when all he wanted to do was open up the boy’s deepest secrets like he was folding petals away from the center of a flower, the inside hiding something so precious and restricted in the boy’s mind that it would be treasure to anyone.

“Don’t give me that look, I just…” The truth, but not the truth, he didn’t want to be another disappointment, not now, not with that look. “I got mugged on the street last night.” He finally said, the words enough of a truth for Wilburs mind to sink into a bath of smooth clear water and lemon.

Tommy raised an eyebrow, lifting his head from his folded arms. “Mugged? Last night?” Interest sparked in those dull blue eyes, interest that further pulled at Wilbur from his core. He wanted to know where the interest for crime came from, and more than that he wanted to know about the kid’s ability to tell lies from truth with just a flicker of those eyes.

So Wilbur shrugged, leaning up against the desk, a smile coming easily to his face though his body strained painfully at the movement of leaning in closer. “You know how things are in this city, Tommy.” Wilbur’s gaze sharpened, all of his attention fully on Tommy, who looked back at him with that same intensity behind his eyes. The sounds of the world felt faded around Wilbur as he only kept his gaze on the boy. “No one cares about one mugging on the street when there are a hundred more the same night.” He leaned back, shrugging, though the strain of his stitches was gone he could still feel the phantom pain of the knife cutting through his skin, the wetness of blood painting his side. “L’manberg is broken, you said it yourself when talking about Schlatt the other day, I’m just not surprised this didn’t happen sooner.”

Tommy tilted his head to the side with all the curiosity of a dog who was shown something new to play with. “Come on, Wilbur,” He laughed, eyes never breaking contact with Wilbur. “It’s not like there’s anything you or I could do about it, so I guess we just keep living and keep getting mugged on dark streets at night.” He rolled his eyes, “Really Wilbur? You’re blaming the city for you getting mugged? Next time blame the police, or vigilantes or heroes, or me, then at least you’d have something you could fix.”

He was right, the nation was unfixable at this point, but that shouldn’t be Tommy’s problem, not when all the boy wanted to do was live his life.

At least, that’s what Wilbur thought that was all Tommy wanted to do.

Tommy slid the bag off the desk from in front of him and into his lap, peeking inside it with a kind of curiosity painted against his tired features. He stared for a second, Wilbur paying more attention to his throbbing side than the grin that crept across Tommy’s face at the sight before him. Maybe he had torn something if his side was aching this bad. He just needed to keep standing long enough to get back to the bus and then back home, right?

“Oh!” The surprised noise from Tommy brought Wilbur’s eyes back up… Since when had he been looking down? The light of the library flickered, or was that the sun above being covered by clouds and then reappearing in the bright of the blue sky above? Wilbur didn’t know, he just kept his eyes on Tommy.

“I got your two of your favorite sandwiches and some ice cream.” A pause, “It might be a little melted now but it’s in there, there’s some Coca Cola too, Tubbo said you liked it…”

Wilbur realized he was explaining himself when everything he was saying was right there in front of Tommy, his word’s fading off as Tommy’s eyes lifted to meet his. What Wilbur saw surprised him, and he needed to blink looking over the boy as a look so pure and thankful spread across his face.

“You got this for me? You didn’t have to Wilbur.” Tommy looked back down into the bag below, that look of awe lighting up his tired features to make him look almost as young as he was.

Almost. Those dark bags still hung under his eyes, and while they were lighter than the day before they were still noticeable, a cause of some guilt on Wilbur’s brain. His posture was dragged down, each movement was tinged with that pull of tiredness that Wilbur knew all too well.

“I felt bad.” The apology leaked from Wilbur’s mouth and even though he made a conscious effort of the words he felt like he was hearing them through water and seafoam. “I promised you food last night and still didn’t come.” He continued to lean his weight against the desk, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes covering his face like a mask.

Ok, maybe he should head out sooner rather than later to get Phil to take a look at his wound.

“Wilbur, are you okay?” The words came distantly through that same water and foam, the lights of the library flickering again, they really needed to get that looked at didn’t they… The words barely registered in Wilbur’s brain, though a smaller more conscious part of him prodded and pulled at his mind telling him that if he needed to leave, he should leave now.

“Tommy, I’m fine.” Wilbur replied, but the words were thick in his mouth, his tongue fumbling over them like they were something solid. Something crawled down his side, and in a moment Wilbur instinctually reached down to it thinking that it felt like a bug had gotten under his shirt.

It didn’t feel quite right though, and Tommy was giving him a look that Wilbur had only seen one time before in the chills of a basem*nt, concrete digging into skin a whispered ‘you’ll be okay.’

Wilbur lifted his hand up, and through the flickering lights of the library, or was that just his vision tunneling? He saw a dark smear of red, eyes drifting back down from Tommy to the black sweater he wore just in case this happened.

The fabric was wet, and it stuck to his skin uncomfortably.

‘you’ll be okay.’

“Wilbur?”

The room collapsed around him and for a moment the shelves filled with books and covered in sunlight looked like cracked concrete and frozen metal in a basem*nt too far away.

Chapter 12: January

Chapter Text

January had been one of the scariest times in Tommy’s life.

He was fifteen, his birthday just barely around the corner and the cold of the winter season clung to his face, ice ghosting his eyes just waiting for the temperature to get a little cooler before striking. The skies were gray and dull with clouds threatening snow piles so high you couldn’t breathe in the outside air.

It had been exciting at first, it was his first time passing outside of the borders of L’manberg since they were established. Everything was new, everything was something he had never seen before.

L’manberg independence was fought for when Tommy was young, but every once and a while George or Quackity would tell him stories of the fights or moments in the revolution that just barely scratched at the walls of Tommy’s memory.

He had been ten or eleven at the time of the revolution. The cruel god that ruled the land which L’manberg sat on took it one step too far, he had pushed all the mortals of his lands to their limits and lived to see them fight back.

Tommy didn’t really know much about the fights, but he would always end up healing people who got caught in the middle of them. One of those kids, unsurprisingly, was Quackity, the boy thirteen or fourteen at the time and working directly under the leader of the whole revolution.

He wished now that he would have gone out, seen the fights as they were happening so he could be one to tell stories, but at the time he didn’t care. He just wanted to survive. He felt like a snowglobe in a storm. He was more worried about his own problems in his own little world than the war just outside. Isolated and uncaring of the battles on the outside, he just worked on his own storm.

It was amazing, thinking back on it now, the amount they were able to build on this land before they banished the god. They were able to build more after, because it was then that there was the strongest sense of community across L’manberg. They were free, they didn’t have some all seeing X in the sky above them, watching their every move in a golden glowing ominousness, they were free and they loved it.

It was then that they had all unanimously called for the leader of the revolution to step into power. They called on him to lead them into their new era and through the destruction of war.

And how could he refuse?

So Jschlatt, the leader of the L’manberg revolution against the god of the land, stepped into presidency after a near unanimous vote from the people.

Schlatt established Pogtopia and their headquarters, saying that in the wake of all this destruction people would no doubt try to grab any remaining power.

They had tried of course, but with the establishment of the heroes of L’manberg, the nation stayed ultimately in peace.

Borders were set around the nation of L’manberg, they were a final offer of negotiation from the god, one they took up readily, not wanting to continue on in the fight with a being who could raise the bodies of the dead to fight for him. With those borders set, the god promised to never interfere with the people there ever again and he left, going out into the wastelands outside their city.

This had been the first time Tommy entered those wastelands, nothing but stories and cold chasing him across the fields and forests, snow clinging to his hair like a crown or a halo of white.

He couldn’t remember much from the trip, just flashes of memory every now and again. He and Sapnap had a snowball fight, this was the first time either of them had seen snow so pure and white outside of the city. They lay in it and built a snowman and laughed, the sound ringing through the crisp freezing air and puffing around their faces in bursts of warm fog from their breaths.

It was a supply run or something of the type led by the demon Bad. He was older than any of them combined, and if it weren’t for him there would be no heroes left standing alive throughout the streets of L’manberg. Because of his importance to L’manberg they sent Tommy out with him on whatever supply run this was, Sapnap tagging along behind them, set on going anywhere with his adoptive father who meant so much to him.

Tommy had never met a god before, he didn’t know if there were any other gods to meet aside from this one with a mask covering his face one large crack of an X in the middle where liquid golden light seeped out like blood.

He thought he had died. He thought that that night the freezing temperatures of the icy winter had dragged him under the surface of the earth as he slept, and clawed him open until there was nothing but a god standing in front of him, waiting to greet him into the afterlife with cruel blood stained hands.

A voice, too loud to be in waking moments reverberated through the air, ghosting across Tommy’s cold skin, spoke in the eerie darkness, the only light radiating off of the form of the god like sunlight and moonlight combined.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.” The voice was not soft. It was not kind, and it was nothing like anything Tommy had heard before. The best way he could describe it in that moment would have been that the voice was one that would respond to you in the echo of your own words against cold rock and stone which resided in the deepest chasm of the world. Yet when he thought back on the encounter half of him wanted to say it was a dream, a nightmare even, that haunted his thoughts like spiders and worms across his mind. The other part of him whispered that the voice sounded so eerily similar to that of his mentor even in the memories of the appearance that came back to him in dreams.

Tommy couldn’t think to say anything, he didn’t think he could, sure that his mind wouldn’t allow him to speak in this dream-like state.

“All the land came from me.” The god whispered, and Tommy could see a flash of an eye so green it rivaled the color of grass on a spring day through the golden cracks in the mask. “And one day it will return.” The being co*cked its head, the movement so animalistic it almost looked calculated. “You’ve all forgotten that I gave you everything, your minds, your blood, your skin, even your friends, your brothers which you consider your only family.” A flicker of that bright eye and Tommy saw a flash of an image of Dream as he knew him, that smile with their flash of bright teeth and the unkempt hair from a day off.

White numbing fear froze Tommy at the flash of the image, the memory? Tommy didn’t know.

Tommy closed his eyes, trying to block out the overwhelming image of the X and everything it represented, everything behind it. He barely remembers now, that blinding fear that consumed his spirit, that crawled across his chest like blood from an open wound, because the god went on, each of his words seeming to taunt Tommy in their lightness, in the ease in which they were said. “I made you who you are.” The god cooed, a hand of white brushing through Tommy’s hair, something he could feel against his physical body, “And I’ll make you lose everything, and I’ll make you lose it slowly,” The voice turned sharper, those hands combing through his hair beginning to grip tightly across his skull in an almost possessive way. “If I think it’ll be interesting to watch.”

Sweat clung tightly to his body, tears on the brink of freezing on his cheeks in the solid cold of the winter months past the borders of L’manberg. Sapnap had woken soon after, Bad followed suit. So Tommy told them what he saw, keeping the words that were spoken by that dream, that god, out of his mouth, fearing that saying them out loud would bring them life. The two men just shared a look before Bad nodded solemnly in a kind of confirmation that Tommy did not want.

“L’manberg is free of the X, but he wanders out here, this is his land more than anyones.” The demon sighed and stood, beginning to fold up his things. “He likes to torment anyone he can, especially out here where there are no borders or promises to confine him.”

It was something Tommy hadn’t wanted to hear. Something he didn’t want confirmed in his memories of sleep.

But still the words haunted him for the rest of the trip and for weeks after the encounter. When the three of them got back to Pogtopia it was George that waited for them when they arrived back at the complex, features grim and a look he held that said he hadn’t slept in days.

“Dream’s in the medbay.” The man said, his look seeming to get more tired at the words like they had physically dragged him down. But Tommy was already on his feet, already halfway across the room towards the stairs, belongings from the trip scattered where he left them, Bad and Sapnap tight on his heels.

It had been the Blade they told him when he entered the room. A fight had happened between Dream and the Blade near the center of the city and they had barely dragged Dream out breathing before reinforcements arrived and the Blade retreated.

That night as Tommy exhausted himself fixing the old wounds on Dream he thought of the god that had told him he would change his whole life because he felt like it, he couldn’t seem to put the two events off as coincidence not as he rested his head in his arms at Dreams side, ears strained for that continuing sound of the heart monitor.

He slept for a week after that night, remembering vaguely as Dream woke up to Tommy’s healing hands and his thoughts fading as he clung to that consciousness because this was Dream they were talking about, and Tommy would not let him die without Tommy by his side fighting all the way into the afterlife in an attempt to drag the both of them back into the light of consciousness.

Dream swore at him when he woke up, and though he would hide it as best he could, Tommy could see the relief in the man’s posture, he could see the bone deep thankfulness that at least they had both survived.

“Never do that again.” Dream reprimanded, arms still shaky from their injuries, there was only so much Tommy could do that late after a fight, and only so much Tommy could do with the energy he had. He was laying in his apartment bed then, having been dismissed from the medbay earlier so he could sleep in his own place. His arms were bandaged, chest stitched and patched where the Blade’s sword had gone clean through in an attempt to kill the man.

His tone was stern, one Tommy never fought against because it was with that tone that Tommy knew Dream was in the right, that Tommy had gone too far or risked too much of himself. But Tommy stood his ground then, pushing back against the words until the two of them were in an all out yelling match, Tommy exhausted from healing Dream and Dream still recovering from his injuries.

Tommy stormed out that night, laying on the couch in Dream’s apartment because even though they had just gone through a fight Tommy would not be leaving Dream’s side. Anger still bubbled in his chest, surpassing the exhaustion of recovery, but he was stubborn. Leaving wasn’t even an option in his mind, where else did he have to go to that mattered as much as here?

Sapnap also stayed over that night, sitting in silence, knowing the two of them well enough to know they would work everything out. They always did, didn’t they?

Dream left his room in the middle of that night, nudging Tommy further onto the long couch so he could lay beside him, both ignoring that small grunt of pain from his still healing injuries.

He whispered apologies then, promising to never get into a danger like that ever again, Tommy nodding, letting his power subtly do its work as Dream pulled him in tight, whispers on his lips that this wouldn’t be forever, that one day the two of them would be fine, no worries of injury or pain on their minds, just life.

Those words pulled Tommy into sleep that night, along with the rising exhaustion of healing the last of Dream’s injuries.

Huh, maybe the closeness of someone like Dream was what he needed in times like these.

And it was in moments like these where Tommy thought back to that god and his promise to do anything so long as it entertained him.

Tommy liked Wilbur, he would consider him his friend even.

Wilbur reminded him so much of Dream. With the way he spoke to the way he joked with Tommy, even down to the way that Wilbur looked at him when he didn’t think Tommy could see that guilt in his eyes…

Tommy felt fear now, the same kind of fear he had back in January while sitting by Dream’s cot, pushing all of his muscles harder, his nails digging into his skin in order for him to stay awake just a little longer, to make sure Dream would live.

It felt worse.

Maybe he had forgotten just how intense fear could be as it gripped onto your insides, tearing through your organs like they were paper, a smile on its face because of how happy it is to see you feel in the way it does.

Fear in the field was different from this kind of fear. In the field, Tommy had people behind his back with him. He had Sapnap and George, he had Bad and Sam, he had the entirety of HQ on his side and he had the public to rely on. He had Doctor Puffy, he had Hannah and Boomer, and he had Dream.

But here? He only had himself to rely on, people can help you fight but when it comes down to something only you know how to do? Tommy had just himself and that scared him because who was he to only be able to trust himself in a situation like this? A situation that pulled at his gut and smiled in his ear like it knew the kind of pressure it was putting on him.

He had seen too many deaths in his life, so many of them in front of his eyes. None were like this. Yet as Wilbur’s eyes turned dull and unfocused as he slid to the floor from the desk, Tommy’s mind only went to one thing, and that was a promise from a god he could never forget.

He was on the other side of the desk before he could fully process what had happened, kneeling at Wilbur’s side and checking his vitals. He was trained to do this, this was just muscle memory at this point.

Wilbur’s heart was beating steadily beneath Tommy’s fingers and the boy went to check further up on the man, looking over his body like it was a vase and there was some invisible crack that was ready to take the whole thing down with just a tap.

Before he knew it Hannah was by his side as well, worry written across her features. She said something but Tommy was too busy rolling Wilbur over onto his back from his side so he could see the man better. Tommy didn’t fail to notice that his hand came away from Wilbur’s body wet with blood.

A crowd was starting to gather, the library partons all mumbling their worries so loud in Tommy’s focused mind. But Tommy could only focus on Wilbur, pushing away the words that might have just been a curse by the god that used to rule this land.

“I need space.” The words flowed from Tommy’s mouth without a second thought. He only half paid attention as Hannah clung to his words and began to disperse the crowd because he was too busy peeling away the black fabric from Wilbur’s side, carefully, hands steady with their practice. He had seen wounds like this enough times to not be too affected by the look of it, though Tommy still cringed at the sight, taking mental calculations on what he needed to do. Tommy’s hands never shook during work, never, but now they did at this sight as he folded that black fabric up and away from the blood soaked bandage just there. Maybe it was because this was Wilbur that Tommy bit his lip, his hands continuing to shake as he peeled away that once white bandage from Wilbur’s side.

The voices around him seemed to fade, and Tommy didn’t know if that was because the people coming around to watch were slowly being ushered away from the situation or if his mind was forcing them out in favor of the work he was doing.

Wilbur took in a sharp breath in his state of unconsciousness, a noise Tommy had heard thousands of times before. He couldn’t help but bite his lip now, keeping away the thought that Wilbur was a civilian, and the closest to him in his normal life that he would need to save. Could he find no peace in normal life either?

Could he live anything normally again?

Stitches were torn under the bandage, and Tommy frowned, immersing himself in the work, placing his hands on the cut and willing it closed with his power of healing, slowly pulling out the expertly done stitches as he went to keep them from getting stuck in the skin.

Tommy was irritated, and the pain of his lip as he bit down into it didn’t help. His thought went immediately to the mugging Wilbur had been telling him about moments before, connecting the dots swiftly even as he felt a kind of anger pressing on him behind his eyes and a hurt in his chest as he finished healing the cut because…

Why hadn’t Wilbur told him?

Wilbur knew Tommy could heal, he had seen it before, right? Was it because Tommy was young? Because Tommy had joked around more than he was serious? Did Wilbur just not trust Tommy to fix him?

The cut was closed, smooth, only a thin white scar where it had been, the rest of his stomach painted in red so Tommy couldn’t see how well his work had been done.

Tommy had healed people enough to know that Wilbur was still going to be out for another few hours. Tommy didn’t know if Wilbur passed out from blood loss or pain, or maybe he passed out from nauseousness from the wound, Tommy didn’t know, only caring that the man’s breathing was steady, heartbeat normal, that strain that has been written across his face now easing into the steady rhythm of sleep.

He sat back on his heels, resting those bloodied hands on his knees. Taking a deep breath of the Library air Tommy willed that panic to leave his system, shoving the rest of the feeling deep down inside his mind, telling himself he would deal with it later because now wasn’t the time.

Later when he wasn’t sitting in the middle of the library floor with someone unconscious in front of him.

Later when there were fewer people around.

One more breath. “He’s okay now.” Tommy announced, the sigh of relief resounding throughout the library by the occupants, a stark contrast to Tommy’s own feelings as he stared down into the unconscious face of Wilbur, the man’s breathing steady, his eyes closed against the daylight that soaked into the library through the skylights above.

They couldn’t just leave him there, and it wasn’t like there was a place in the back of the library where they could wait for him to wake up by himself. Wilbur lived alone right? He couldn’t call someone to pick him up, and if he called his brother or dad surely they wouldn’t want to heave him into their car still unconscious, right?

“Hannah?” Tommy called, pulling that bloodied sweater back over the man’s stomach, still painted red with the drying blood. It only took a flash of pink for Tommy to know she was there, waiting for whatever he had to say. “Any chance you can drive us back to my apartment so I can get him clean before he wakes up?”

Tommy heard the ‘of course’ distantly as his eyes stayed on Wilbur’s unconscious face, an emotion Tommy couldn’t label etching through his body like the blood in his veins.

Taking Wilbur to Hannah’s car was simple, fast, easy. He felt zoned out as the eyes of the others in the library watched him as he single handedly carried Wilbur out, one arm under the man’s figure as he practically dragged him to the front of the library, Hannah pulling her car around to the front.

Hannah was a gentle driver, or maybe that was because she knew she had to be now. The gears of the car shifted, and the three of them were off, Tommy holding that unconscious body of Wilbur close to him, a tightness in his grip he rarely had. It was as if he were scared that by letting his grip loosen Wilbur would slip away, becoming more unknown to Tommy than he was beginning to be now. He didn’t even realize they had gotten back to his apartment until Hannah looked back at the two of them from the front seat.

She was quiet for a moment, mouth drawn in a thin line as her eyes darted from Wilbur’s unconscious form back to Tommy.

“I’ll get the doors for you.” She stated, with no room for argument in her voice, Tommy didn’t think he wanted to argue back anyway, not when he himself was beginning to feel tired from the healing he had done on the man.

Hannah helped Tommy in carrying Wilbur up to the apartment, Tommy on one side and Hannah on the other. The elevator was a godsend in this moment, and Hannah even more of a godsend as she took the keys Tommy handed to her and opened his apartment door.

The digital clock on the television stand shined in the light of the afternoon, it wasn’t far past six pm now. It was far earlier in the day now than it usually was when Tommy got home, and the apartment sat in a kind of still warm silence against the sunlight of the afternoon which poured through the blinds of Tommy’s kitchen window. The sun was just beginning to set over the roof of the apartment building next to Tommy’s, it would only be so long before the sunlight faded completely from the gray carpets and wooden floors of Tommy’s home.

Tommy remembered then just why he and Dream picked out this place to begin with. The beauty of the setting sun against the summer clouds, the hussle of Tommy’s neighbors down below as they took their dogs for walks or had just simply gone for a stroll in the setting of the sun.

“I’ll let the big man know you’re not gonna be going in for a bit.” Hannah stated, voicing the thoughts Tommy hadn’t yet cared to acknowledge. Tommy would wait by Wilbur’s side until he woke up, he would probably dig through his pockets for his phone in order to get his dad or brother’s numbers so they could come pick him up. If worse came to worse, Wilbur would just have to stay the night or wake up himself to call his family.

Tommy didn’t mind either way, he liked the company more than he would admit.

And Dream would be worried at first. He always was worried when it came to unpredictable situations like these. Tommy could already see the texts Dream would send him, or the words he would speak if he opted to call the kid.

He always said or sent a little keep safe followed by keep your guard up. The two of them had both gone through some kind of deceit in their times in the ‘normal’ world. Tommy didn’t blame Dream for keeping skeptical, if anything it helped remind him that Dream was right, and he did need to keep his eyes open and ears strained to the world around him.

Dream didn’t say it much aloud but he knew that should anything happen to Tommy Dream would hide him away, keep him safe as far away from danger as he could. Both Dream and Tommy were children of the L’manberg revolution. Dream must have fought in it at his age when it happened, but his work helped establish the hero system of the nation. Tommy didn’t think Dream wanted to see one more kid die because of the broken world around them, least of all Tommy.

So he just nodded, settling Wilbur in his unconscious form onto his couch. Hannah waved and left, closing the door in the quietest way she could behind her, a reassuring smile on her face as she disappeared, one Tommy was sure dropped from the woman’s face the moment that door latch clicked.

That just left Tommy and Wilbur.

So with one deep breath, Tommy got to work, removing Wilbur’s sweater to wash and grabbing towels to clean the man’s still blood painted side.

This felt like a clashing of worlds to Tommy. Healing had only ever really happened out in Pogtopia, even before that, he only healed in the streets, bringing this work to his home? Where he lived? It just felt… odd.

It wasn’t like this was something Tommy would never do again, but there was just something that felt so strange about the whole situation.

Maybe it was because the tiredness was taking over him from the healing. It hadn’t been that bad of an injury, but still, everything had a price to pay on Tommy’s body.

He settled into his rhythm of cleaning, watered down paper towels (he wasn’t about to use his nice ones) swiping at the dried blood across Wilbur’s stomach.

He needed this familiarity, he did, so each movement should have calmed him as it always did. When he got to this stage in the process, that usually meant the person below him had survived the worst…

But he didn’t feel relaxed, he didn’t feel happy at all because the thought that Wilbur, with the full knowledge of Tommy’s ability, had still opted to stand there and deal with the pain as opposed to saying anything. Did he even trust Tommy? Teeth dug into Tommy’s lip, the thoughts on his mind dragging his mental state down into the gutters.

The thought paused Tommy’s movement, his hands ghosting over a similar scar to the one he had just cleaned above the wound Tommy healed from earlier. Tommy frowned, and as more blood faded, more scars appeared on Wilbur’s pale skin, scars that reminded Tommy of himself. He pointedly kept his eyes away from the white scars on his own hands at the coming of the thought.

Tommy liked to think he trusted Wilbur, even in just the slightest he had allowed himself to let down that guard of his and think that maybe, just maybe he could finally have something to himself.

Wilbur had let him down the night before, but he had been there every other time Tommy had needed him. He looked at Tommy like he wanted to figure him out, and it was that kind of look that Tommy craved. He wanted Wilbur to fight against his stubbornness, to chase him down, to force all those puzzle pieces into place just so he could figure Tommy out.

Tommy wanted Wilbur to care so much, it killed him.

That was selfishness. That was what he never wanted to happen. Tommy didn’t want to get attached to anyone, and he hated to admit it, but he just wanted to force Wilbur’s puzzle pieces into place too, to figure the man out as Tommy wanted Wilbur to figure him out.

It was selfish, and it was a cruel wish of Tommy’s.

But Tommy had never had someone like Wilbur, and it’s always something you can’t have that infuriates you, isn’t it.

When no more blood stayed on Wilbur’s side or stuck to the couch Tommy put one of his own sweaters over the man, beginning a round of laundry along with Wilbur’s bloody sweater. He wasn’t about to just go and use his very expensive washer and dryer for just one sweater , now was he, and his own clothes had seen their own amount of blood and grime to deal with one sweater.

Tommy brought Wilbur’s body up and settled below the man, resting his head back on Tommy’s legs. He wanted to make sure Wilbur slept well, wanted to make sure he didn’t wake in the middle of his sleep to a place he had never seen before. He wanted to make sure the man didn’t wake to nightmares in the same way Tommy did.

Tommy didn’t want Wilbur to wake up alone, there, he said it.

So he turned on the television to the news station and watched, the mutter of the television ushering his mind into a calmness he only felt after a day of healing.

The television would continue to play Tommy into the night, the boy keeping his ears strained for Wilbur’s breathing, the man’s heartbeat pounding rhythmically against his chest into the dark of the sunset.

Chapter 13: We all have stories of scars, don't we.

Chapter Text

Tommy wasn’t sure what time he fell asleep that night, Wilbur’s head resting on his legs, but when he woke up he was warm. He felt relieved that no nightmares plagued him that night, and it was only after a moment that he realized he was laying down. The warmth brought him back into sleep, dragging his tired mind into nothingness.

He would let himself melt into the warmth for just a little longer.

When Tommy woke again, he could see the sunlight past his eyelids and he felt a very solid warmth to his side. He opened his eyes slowly against the shine of the sun just rising, the light of the morning sky illuminating the world around Tommy.

And…

He was being treated like some kind of stuffed animal.

Tommy blinked a few times before tilting his head upwards, eyes landing on Wilbur who, don’t get me wrong, was still very much asleep, but clung to Tommy like the boy was about to disappear.

He could slip from the man’s grasp, go to his own room now that he knew he was going to sleep peacefully until he woke up. That’s what Tommy should do, he thought to himself, but it was here that Wilbur had the boy pressed against his chest, the rhythmic beating of the man’s heart sounding so steady and grounding in Tommy’s ears.

Or he could stay. Wilbur was under his care at the moment after all, Tommy would feel bad if he woke him up from a rest he clearly needed, or if he left him all alone on the couch of his apartment to wake up to unfamiliar surroundings…

Each of Wilbur’s breaths whispered across Tommy’s hair and in the man’s sleep, Tommy let himself burrow deeper into his warmth. How long had it been since he felt like this? How long since he felt this kind of heat when not dragging someone out of death?

Dream would pull Tommy close against himself like this sometimes, when villains prowled close to them or when he was promising Tommy he would be safe, that he would be okay. Even in the middle of some of the most violent fights he had ever seen, Dream taking him behind the corner of a building and promising Tommy a safety that neither of them knew would pull through or not.

This wasn’t battle. This wasn’t in the medbays after a close call, this wasn’t anywhere near Pogtopia, and maybe that’s what brought Tommy closer to peace.

The boy pushed himself further against Wilbur’s chest, feeling the soft fabric of his own sweater press back against his cheek. He needed this. He deserved to be held like this, held like he never needed to worry again by someone he didn’t dare say that he trusted, not to himself at least.

And yet…

Wilbur hadn’t told him about the cut. Scratch that. Wilbur hadn’t trusted Tommy enough to tell him about the cut. That combined with the fact that Tommy’s trust of him was growing. It had been something Tommy specifically could fix, and maybe that was what hit him so hard.

Maybe that distrust, or withholding of information is what lost Tommy’s hope.

And suddenly the arms wrapped around him felt like iron bars and the warmth he felt was just a little too hot. The breath that rustled his hair felt possessive and wrong in the light of the morning.

So, carefully Tommy pulled himself from Wilbur’s side, catching no resistance as his arms loosened from around Tommy. His work clothes from the day before were rumpled against his skin, last night he had opted to just sit with Wilbur on the couch, forgetting by the time he fell asleep that he was still in his day clothes.

Leaving further into his apartment with a careful eye on the sleeping form of Wilbur on the couch, Tommy went into his room and got dressed. He then slipped into the bathroom, another calculated look at Wilbur who was still dead asleep on the couch, now holding the blanket Tommy had flung over him from the night before in a replacement of Tommy. Washing his face and brushing his teeth, the morning feeling so different from his usual days Tommy let his eyes slip from the living room to just give himself the only moment of calmness he thought he would have today.

Maybe he should have snuck through Wilbur’s phone last night, found his brother or father’s number to call them, let them know where to pick Wilbur up in the morning…

Then again, Tommy could take him home when he woke up, you know, just to make sure that his healing held up, he wasn’t curious or anything to see how Wilbur, the oddest man Tommy had ever met and near friend lived. To be fair though, it wasn’t often Tommy went to the houses of normal people, even now he felt it would be like walking through a museum.

However… Tommy also needed to go back to Pogtopia. A week away had stacked up the healing work he needed to do, and especially after the night before when several people including Dream and Sapnap came back to the base with wounds from the Arctic, Tommy really had a lot to do back at headquarters. None of them would die, that Tommy was sure about, he had had at least one session with everyone to make sure that was true. He just needed another round of healing to get them all back on their feet. He had something like seven police officers to go through, along with a couple of President Schlatt’s security guards for the compound that was robbed, and also a check up on Dream Sapnap and another hero that had been on the premises and the first called in to the situation nammed Nihachu.

Not only did Tommy have to worry about healing, he also needed to worry about his job at the library. Sure it was run by Hannah and Boomer, the two of them heroes that patrolled this side of town during the nights, stopping petty crime in the streets, but Tommy still had a job there, one he wasn’t willing to give up so fast, even for a day, they needed him.

Tommy sighed against the morning sounds that flitted through the apartment, his neighbors waking, their laughter just barely audible through the thin walls around them. Tommy’s upstairs neighbor, the lucky man, was still asleep, Tommy knew he wouldn’t be waking until later in the afternoon, as he always did. Then there was the soft hum of the cars outside, each waking with the day, bringing their owners to work with happy rumbles–

“Phil…?” It was near inaudible, a whisper among all the other waking sounds of the city around him but the word still froze Tommy to his core because it was just so familiar. His hands gripped either side of the sink from where he was standing in the bathroom, eyes stuck on the drain below him. He didn’t want to look up into the mirror fearing that with just a glance he would see that veiled man right there behind him, ready to kill, one hand already wrapped around Tommy’s vulnerable throat.

It’s not like he had forgotten. Siren was just another thing Tommy needed to deal with, Tommy needed whatever story that was unwinding between them to pull to an end, he needed to end it himself so he might just be able to live as he used to again. He couldn’t regret what he did still, even though he begged that he would feel some kind of guilt for the action, feel something that would tell him, beg him, through his conscious mind to never do that again.

If it came down to it, Tommy thought he would do it all over again, and that thought caused his chest to tighten and his teeth to grind because he hated it, and yet–

A shifting noise came from the room behind Tommy, and he forced his muscles to relax one by one. He pried his fingers from the sink, having gripped the thing so hard, red marks now marred his hands where the edges of the metal dug into his skin.

“Wilbur.” The name felt like a sigh of relief in Tommy’s mouth and he turned from the bathroom mirror, peeking his head outside of the door, just catching the sight of Wilbur rising from the couch rubbing his eyes.

Tommy was safe now, here in his apartment, with someone else here to scare the demons and nightmares he found in loneliness away. Or at least he felt safe, and that was what mattered to him right now in the comfort of the morning light.

“Tommy?” It was a question as Wilbur looked around the apartment, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, “Is this your house?”

The air in the apartment felt just a bit colder, the light from the sky the only thing illuminating the apartment. Tommy placed his hands on his hips, looking over to Wilbur from the doorway to the bathroom.

This absolute idiot. Had he not realized the kind of position he had placed Tommy in the day before? It seemed like he didn’t even care, or the event didn’t matter as much to him as it did to Tommy, and while relief took over Tommy’s mind at the sight of Wilbur doing just fine across the apartment from him, there was a kind of annoyance that still plagued Tommy’s every movement like sand stuck to skin.

Scars littered Wilbur’s side, that was something he couldn’t ignore about last night. Maybe this nonchalance Wilbur was directing toward the whole situation was because it was normal for him, because maybe, just maybe, this happened often.

The boy’s nose scrunched up and he stared across the room to Wilbur, whose curious eyes flitted throughout the apartment as if he were amazed by the look of a place so simple, so messy, so utterly and absolutely Tommy that it hurt.

Dream often told Tommy how the apartment reflected Tommy’s personality: the walls which were covered in posters from specific songs or movies, the television stand clear aside from that digital clock and a little redstone lamp Dream had gotten him for one of his birthdays. Even the floor was dirty now where he usually kept it clean for situations like last night. Towels and clothes scattered across the floor, even a few blood stained paper towels Tommy had neglected to throw away last night in favor of rest.

Now that he too was looking over the set up of his apartment, Tommy nearly forgot he was mad at Wilbur, instead, he felt bare standing where he was in the center of the room. It felt like he was showing Wilbur who he was, everything about him. Sure it was something he wanted Wilbur to see, but… it also felt too soon, too personal for the anger that boiled in Tommy’s chest at the look of Wilbur, so uncaring as he looked over every detail of Tommy’s apartment.

Tommy let out a sharp sigh, crossing his arms over his chest in a comfortable gesture for him: it felt like a defense. “You can’t just do that Wilbur.” He waved one hand in a harsh motion, “You have no idea how bad you scared me last night, and you didn’t even tell me something was wrong! You just waited until you passed out on your own? You would rather just deal with the pain than let me help you?” His breath caught in his throat, and there was a stinging along the lines of his eyes. He was upset, that was obvious. He had gone through a kind of fear last night that he reserved for times when he would really need the emotion to drive him. It was a feeling he rarely, if ever, had outside of his second job, and that just pissed Tommy off.

Wilbur’s bright brown eyes flickered, though he kept his gaze away from Tommy. The man’s mouth pressed into a thin, tight line, a look that Tommy knew too well, was it unfair to relate this look to Dream as well?.

Wilbur was debating even talking to Tommy, the look said that much. Still, Tommy kept his feet on the ground and his eyes on Wilbur. He wasn’t just going to let the man get away with whatever he had on his mind.

Dream told Tommy everything, it was part of their transparency, part of the reason why Tommy trusted the man so much. Sapnap was less transparent, however he still always told Tommy everything he needed to know. He hid what was harshest to him, but he made that clear to Tommy, and that’s all Tommy needed to uphold that trust with the man. The others throughout Pogtopia were different, he wasn’t awfully close with anyone else, but he didn’t really need to be. He trained with the other heroes so they could be a good team together out in the field, but aside from that he was usually too busy in the medbays to really form any big social bonds.

Obviously Wilbur was going to be different.

He wasn’t a hero Tommy trained with regularly, he wasn’t someone Tommy found himself healing often, and he was just so open with Tommy. Wilbur talked so much, and Tommy kept that information he shared and remembered every bit of it. Wilbur spoke about his family and his hobbies, and he read aloud books to Tommy while it was just the two of them in an attempt to annoy him.

Wilbur was Wilbur, yet out of all the stories he shared with Tommy over their time knowing each other, never once had me mentioned stories from scars, scars Tommy knew he could have healed if given the chance, if he had known Wilbur for just a little longer.

Yet he was still Wilbur and he continued to act exactly as Tommy expected him to. “It’s a nice house.” An exasperated sigh nearly broke through Tommy’s barrier of anger, he opened his mouth, ready to snap back raising his hands in a form of disbelief but Wilbur went on. “It’s pretty messy but I don’t know what else I expected from you, gonna admit though,” A slight pause that Tommy nearly broke into, “I didn’t expect you were a cinnamon candle kind of kid.”

With a flick of his gaze, Tommy caught sight of his candle, a cute little thing he got from Tubbo at some point when the boy was experimenting with making things.

He glared at Wilbur who, very pointedly, was avoiding meeting Tommy’s gaze.

Wilbur couldn’t just do this, this was serious, or, it was serious to Tommy at least. This had been a matter of life and death, something that Tommy dealt with on a daily basis. And still, here Wilbur was, completely ignoring the look Tommy was giving him by looking over his apartment in that same way he always looked over Tommy. Was he trying to joke?

Crossing his arms, Tommy glared over at Wilbur, the man having begun to make comments on one of the posters Tommy had hung on the wall behind the couch, “I like that game too” He was saying, a smile on his face that hid any kind of discomfort he may have been feeling at the confrontation Tommy was bringing, “It’s a lot of fun, I had no idea they made posters for it though.” This was infuriating, all Tommy wanted to do was talk about something serious, to make sure Wilbur never did something like this again. Who was Wilbur to keep avoiding his stare to opt speaking casually with Tommy as if nothing happened.

Who was Wilbur to sit there and joke around in a situation like this?

That’s when it hit him. Tommy unfolded his arms from one another, that fresh bite of anger slowly seeping out of him soon feeling like it never existed. Because Tommy understood now: this was the same thing he always did in situations he thought were too serious.

Wilbur was deflecting with humor in the same way Tommy always did in order to avoid talks too serious for him in the moment.

Wilbur was pulling a Tommy, and it was annoying.

And Tommy understood. He took in a deep breath and rubbed his eyes with a pressure that said he was trying to press his eyes into his skull more than clear his vision. “Wilbur, just promise me,” Tommy paused, his gaze flicking to the man as he sat on the couch, a winning smile on his face that Tommy wanted to wipe clean off, because the man knew he was giving Tommy a taste of his own medicine. “If something like that happens again that you will one,” He held up a finger, “Tell me it happened, and two,” He held up a second finger, annoyance in his tone, “Don’t pass out on the library floor so I have to leave work early for you.”

The apartment stayed in that bright silence, the soft light of the day reflecting itself in Wilbur’s eyes as if they were made for such beauty. Their eyes met, brown eyes on blue and their gaze stayed, Tommy’s look flicking from one of Will’s eyes to the other like they had the hidden answers he was looking for.

Finally, Wilbur sighed when the silence nearly got too much for Tommy, and he was the one to break their eye contact that said so much yet so little. “Alright, fine, I’ll tell you if something like that happens again.” His tone held a faked annoyed twinge, then he paused, gaze going to his hands where he fiddled with his fingers and his tone shifted with a more genuine lilt, “Sorry I didn’t tell you this time, I just… I would have felt bad if I told you. My health isn’t anyone’s responsibility but my own, you probably don’t need one more person to worry about.”

He was right, in some sense, “I’ll tell you this, Wilbur.” The words drew the man’s tired eyes back onto Tommy, “I want to worry about you, it’s not often I find someone I like in need of help like that.” Tommy couldn’t help the relief that rushed through his veins in a warmth he rarely felt at Wilbur’s words, at the assurance that at least he would not be someone he would need to worry about with hiding cuts or bruises as Dream did.

‘Save your energy’ Dream would say on days where he didn’t get gravely hurt, ‘I want you to have time for yourself, I don’t want you to waste all of your liveliness on something that’ll fix itself in a week.’

Tommy hated that, and it wasn’t like Dream wasn’t stubborn either, so he always ended up following the man’s rules, albeit spitefully, but Dream always made up for it with a night of watching movies, or ordering pizza to Tommy’s apartment. That or surprising the boy with a visit from both him and Sapnap in the dead of a cold and lonely night.

A bright smile from Wilbur reminded Tommy of that same look on Dream. They were so very similar, Dream and Wilbur, weren’t they. “Do you tell that to everyone?” Wilbur laughed, “And what if you didn’t like me? What then, would things be different?”

Tommy’s mind snapped to those scars that littered Wilbur’s side at his question, his previous resolve faltering at the thought. “Well, I don’t not like you, that’s for one.” Tommy rolled his eyes, slipping back over to the couch and sitting by Wilbur’s side, “And I’m sure if I didn’t like you I’d still fix you up. I’ve done it before, I’ll do it again.”

If there was one thing Tommy was sure of, it was that. If even now he could not bring himself to regret the actions that led to the villain Siren looking for him, he didn’t think he ever would, and while the words crossed in a casual manner Tommy still felt the pull of unease that night had given him, the unease of even the thought that he had healed Siren and that he would do it again. That was… unless the villain did something drastic, something horrible.

Wilbur leaned back against the couch, raising the sweater Tommy had slipped onto him the night before, having just noticed the gray thing. His stomach was smooth, scars racing down the expanse of pale skin every inch or so. He huffed, his stomach moving at the action as he ran his fingers across that wound turned scar from last night. “I still don’t want you to worry about me Tommy.” He stated, his fingers running over a long thin white scar that was located a little bit above the cut Tommy healed last night. “I would say that it doesn’t happen a lot but…” The painting of scars across Will’s skin said something different, something Tommy was curious about despite his better judgment.

“Do you fight a lot?” The question escaped Tommy’s lips before he could even process them, his elbows on his knees, eyes flittering across Wilbur's scars. He was noticing a lot more now that they were in the light of the day.

A lot more.

Wilbur shrugged, lowering the fabric of Tommy’s sweater, hiding the skin beneath. “I guess, a lot of these are old though, I got them in the revolution.”

That… that made sense. “You are older than dirt, I’m not surprised you fought in the revolution.”

A hearty laugh resounded throughout the apartment, and Tommy himself couldn’t help but smile at the sound of Wilbur’s amusem*nt. “If you think I’m old, you should meet my dad.” Mirth echoed in Wilbur’s tone, “That man is as old as one can get, that’s for sure.”

Tommy co*cked his head to one side, remembering the words that stilled him in his steps from that morning. “You asked for your dad this morning, speaking of old people and dads.” He stood from the couch now, needing to move through the feeling that returned through his chest at the memory of the moment. He would ignore the feeling for now. “I think you owe him a call to pick you up, you’re not staying at my place for much longer, you’ll get your stink everywhere or something. You probably have cooties.”

Wilbur ignored the last insults, groaning and leaning back on the sofa so his face was upturned toward the ceiling. “But Tommy! I haven’t even gotten to snoop through your apartment yet! This is a once in a lifetime opportunity for me,” Pleading eyes drifted from the ceiling light back to Tommy, “Please let me stay a little longer, that way I get to bug you for the day before my dad inevitably pins me down in his house and makes sure I’m okay.” Another groan and the man pushed the palms of his hands into his eyes, “Besides, I want to meet your legal guardian, you’ve told me enough about him already, I just want to say hi.”

God was Wilbur dramatic. Tommy rolled his eyes, “Fine, you can stay, just for a bit longer and we can hang out, you absolutely clingy bastard.” Tommy waved a hand grabbing his phone from off of the coffee table. “I’ll doordash us some breakfast, unfortunately for you though, my legal guardian doesn’t live with me, so ha!” Tommy clicked on the food delivery app. “You can meet him another day, I’ve already told him enough about your sorry ass for him to be curious too.” He paused as he decided on the restaurant he wanted to order from. “Besides, you also need to stay to make up for ditching me the other night.” The boy hissed air through his teeth in a way that said ‘cringe’. “I’m sorry but my favorite sandwich and ice cream isn’t going to make it up to me when you pass out right in front of me moments later…You are feeling alright from that, right?”

Tommy had no doubts that his power worked, it always did, but Wilbur had lost blood, and everyone reacted to Tommy’s healing differently. Some woke with the most minor of headaches in the morning, and others woke up sore in the same way Tommy was after healing. He hated how he let some of that concern show through in his tone, he had a persona to keep up with around Wilbur, and while that persona may have been a genuine childish part of himself, Tommy still had it, and he wanted to keep it that way.

Wilbur waved off the question with a “I feel the same as I always do.” Then continued, a coy smile written across his face that was as easy for Tommy to read as the pages of a book. “Sometimes you just get mugged out on the streets of L’manberg, I don’t know what to tell you Tommy.”

The boy rolled his eyes, his order just going through on the DoorDash app. “Yeah because that regularly happens to all of us all the time here in the nation of L’manberg.”

Wilbur snorted, waving Tommy over and patting the spot next to him on the couch, a spot Tommy readily took, ignoring the way Wilbur’s arm wrapped around his shoulder as he settled. “Don’t act like you’ve never seen your fair share of violence throughout L’manberg, I see your scars, you don’t hide them well. And it’s not like you were old enough to fight in the revolution when it happened.” A kind of sorrowful look passed over Wilbur’s face as he gazed off into Tommy’s apartment, not really seeing anything past the air in front of him.

“At eleven I hope I wouldn’t have been seeing the fights out there.” Tommy leaned back against the arm that supported him, Wilbur moving comfortably closer. Tommy thought for a moment, he wouldn’t have thought someone like Wilbur would really notice his scars, the white streaks that littered his body having barely been stopped by the boy’s healing ability.

Life out here and at the library felt so far removed from His other life. To Tommy, without the mask, his life in Pogtopia was left behind and there was nothing else to him that would connect him to that part of his life. He felt so far removed from his other life while on this side of town, that he forgot the scars that etched across his body were a part of him he couldn’t replace. They were a part of him he could never be rid of in favor of a normal life.

Instead, Tommy chuckled, lifting one of his arms, the short sleeved shirt he wore revealing the white marks that stayed across the skin of his arms. One of the scars he noticed was from the Angel, a long gash near the top of his shoulder from where the Avian had hit him in an attempt to get Tommy off the playing field. A few were burns, some from training and some from Thunder or some other villain who favored the use of fire.

Too many of them were from Siren.

Out in fights, Tommy often found himself facing up against Siren. The villain’s power was his voice, and Tommy’s power wasn’t one to be used on the battlefield, so when it came down to it, the two would usually fight in their own hand to hand combat. Combat which led to a lot of scars on Tommy’s part, and maybe Siren’s too.

A laugh escaped Tommy and he pointed to a white star shaped scar the size of a coin. “This one is from an arrow wound, I healed it pretty quickly but I had to break the thing to get it out.” He shivered. “It had to have been made of aluminum or something ‘cuz it didn’t leave any splinters,” The boy co*cked his head, features in a ‘might as well’ kind of look. “Lucky for me I guess, but it was still a pain to get out.”

Wilbur leaned over Tommy to get a closer look at the thing, cringing at the sight of it, “Damn Tommy, I’m sorry I had no idea–”

“Shut up old man, you said it too, didn’t you? In L’manberg we all have scars, now tell me about some of yours before I make you watch Cocomelon on repeat or something.” Tommy interrupted, wanting less than anything for Wilbur to just not have that guilty look on his face like Tommy was some glass figure who had one too many scratches for his liking.

The older man paused for a moment then looked down over himself. He seemed to zero in on a specific spot and pulled down the collar of Tommy’s sweater that he was wearing. He pointed to a jagged one that stretched across his collarbone and up past his shoulder. “I got caught in the middle of a hero fight with the Blade for this one, that man held back just enough to not kill me.”

Tommy’s eyebrows rose at that, “I’ve gotten caught in my own fair share of hero fights as well.” He stated, blue eyes flickering down to his legs. It wasn’t a lie in the slightest, in fact, that may have been the most honest Tommy had ever been with Wilbur about his personal life. He pointed to a long burn mark across his calf, “Got this one from Thunder, that bastard never really looks where he sends his lightning bolts, now does he.”

“I have one from Thunder too!” Wilbur exclaimed, looking happier than ever. The man pulled up his sleeve, showing off a sharp burn mark across his forearm. The man chuckled, “Thunder is such a menace.”

And this… this just felt so normal. It was a mix in between his life as a hero and his life as Tommy, and maybe that was what infatuated him.

Every story Wilbur told about his scars was better than the last, and Tommy could only try and keep up with his own stories.

The time in the day ticked by steadily, and Tommy couldn’t help but get drawn in by each of Wilbur’s words like they were a story he could never hear again. Then again, given Tommy’s profession, he didn’t doubt that this would be the last he heard of these stories.

Noon came and went, their conversation drifting from the fights or ‘accidents’ (by Tommy) in which they had received their scars to stupid stories of where they had gotten the smaller ones.

“Back when I lived on the streets I would crawl on top of the locked sections of apartment building roofs so I could watch the sunset, and that’s how I got this one,” The scar wasn’t more than a pale dot in the center of his palm now, but he still thought about it a lot, mainly when he was sneaking onto the roofs of the buildings all around to continue to watch the sunsets in the same way he had all those years ago. “Accidentally slipped and when I landed a rusty nail went straight through my palm.”

Wilbur tilted his head. At some point the two of them had slipped down to the floor and just sat comfortably on the gray carpet of Tommy’s living room, the coffee table pushed all the way to the side in order to give the two boys room. All too late Tommy realized he never put in his DoorDash order and in a quick inquiry with Wilbur he decided to place it anyway, ignoring the fact he was ordering breakfast food late into the afternoon.

“So watching the sunset is just a favorite pastime of yours isn’t it.”

Tommy nodded, “I used to do it all the time but I got busy, I can only do it so often now, and it’s never the same as it used to be.”

The conversation shifted from there, Tommy nearly bringing out his two cassette tapes to show Wilbur, but deciding against it at the last moment when his phone rang.

Tommy frowned, Wilbur going quiet at the soft chiming. A duck emoji popped up on screen and immediately Tommy stood, holding a hand up in a ‘one minute’ gesture as he picked up the call, making his way to the kitchen.

“Q?” The boy asked, eyes flashing momentarily back to Wilbur, giving a little wave to the man before focusing up on the call. It wasn’t unusual for Quackity to call Tommy, in fact, Tommy would say the man called at least once every week in order to keep up with him so this was all too normal.

“Heyo Tommy,” The voice crackled across the line, “Dream tells me you decided not to go in to work today, are you busy?” Tommy had texted Hannah earlier in the day in the middle of a story by Wilbur that had been preceded by a bit of wrestling and told the woman that he would be taking the day off and he would see her tomorrow. Sure it wasn’t the most professional, but Wilbur just had these storytelling skills that were just so captivating, and Tommy, though it may have been selfish, wanted that to himself for the day. He deserved it, didn’t he?

A glance over at Wilbur was all it took for Tommy. The man was playing on his own phone, giving Tommy the space he needed with the call. “If you need me I can be there.” Tommy stated, though the words felt heavy in his mouth, and they dragged down with the weight of disappointment on them, because when was he not needed?

Quackity sighed, a little mumbling in the back of the call catching Tommy’s attention for the slightest moment before he made himself focus back on the man on the line. “I do need you man, sorry, It’s…” A pause that was so unlike Quackity, “It’s pretty important, do you need a ride? Dream’s already here.”

Dream was there? Tommy lowered his voice, sparing a quick glance to Wilbur before stepping further into the kitchen and out of the view of the living room. Quackity and Dream rarely got along, and it was even rarer to see them agreeing on something where they would meet without Tommy. “Can you put him on?” Tommy questioned, voice lowered against the quiet of his apartment, a quiet that Tommy didn’t really notice until now.

There was a hum of acknowledgement on the other side of the phone and then a shuffle across the line, then–

“Hello?” Dream’s voice across the phone was crunchy already, but with the addition of his voice changer, something that told Tommy both he and Q were in the middle of something, it was only really understandable because Tommy heard the man so much like this.

“Hey,” Tommy replied, voice lowered, “What’s up?”

There was a shuffle on the other side of the line and Tommy could hear Quackity’s voice vaguely in the background. “We got some… really interesting news back from the lab today, something we need to go over as soon as possible.” More mumbling from across the line, “Yeah, yeah,” The sigh that left Dream’s mouth sounded exasperated, and Tommy could practically see the man rubbing the back of his neck with the next words. “It has to do with the Arctic, get here as soon as you can, okay?”

“Here meaning where?” Tommy asked, though the words Dream had just spoke shaded across Tommy’s mind like they were pure darkness. The lab never found anything on the Arctic, the Arctic were enigmas, each of their attacks always seemed to come out of the blue, and the waves of bodies they left behind them was enough to keep even Tommy up at night.

“Las Nevadas.” The confirmation felt like ice cold water wrapping across Tommy’s spine, because of course it would be Las Nevadas.

Tommy hummed in a confirmation that neither of them really needed.

“Be safe Theseus.” Dream whispered, and then the line clicked, sending Tommy back into the silence of his apartment.

He just wanted a day, just one simple day, that was all he wanted. But not everything could be simple for Tommy, could it, and he had a job to do.

Chapter 14: And what are their plans?

Chapter Text

It had been a week since Tommy last saw action like this.

With the rush of cold office building air past his suit and mask, eyes locked on his target through those tinted goggles, and that pure rush of adrenaline that couldn't compare to anything else in the world. Tommy remembered why he had snuck out all those times before to convince Dream to let him fight in the field with him.

Because this was what Tommy loved.

Caution still seeped at the lining of his eyes like a protective cover. He was lucky to have that caution, that sense of alertness, especially now as he was hot on the intruder’s heels, chasing them throughout the hallways like a cat on a mouse.

This was a simple practice mission, something presented from Dream to Tommy. In Dream’s words it was to ‘get him back into the flow of things’ because this was far from the only mission Tommy had tonight and Tommy would be needing that warm up.

His assailant slipped around a corner, just out of Tommy’s reach with one hand on the office wall to swing his momentum around the corner keeping his speed up as he continued to run, evading each of Tommy’s grabs like some kind of squirrel.

Quackity had gotten the call as the three of them were making their way to the man’s car. Their meeting at Las Nevadas ending with short, clipped words which were exchanged between Dream and Quackity, the two on edge yet trying to hide their stiffness from the world around them like that would make it disappear, but it wasn’t like they could hide that tension from Tommy.

It was a rare day indeed that Dream and Quackity agreed on anything, and the fact that even then they had shared glances Tommy had never seen between the two of them before both relieved and scared Tommy because they could never agree on anything, ever.

They had given him a brief explanation when he got to the casino, Foolish meeting him at the gilded gates and escorting him all the way back into the Casino, the heart of Las Nevadas. Quackity kept most of his words vague, eyes passing over Tommy telling him something wordlessly that Dream couldn’t know. But Dream was on edge too focused on the papers held in his hands to see the glares from Quackity and the intrigue that pulled at Tommy’s movements. Both Dream and Quackity held stiff postures, but they shared a glance that Tommy had never seen between the two of them before, Dream’s head just tilting up enough from his papers to give Quackity a sharp nod with the other man returned.

“The lab has found the Arctic’s next target.” Dream said then, wasting no time on formalities and setting down the papers he held in his hand onto Quackity’s desk. He stood arms crossed, his foot tapping all too quietly against the bright red carpets beneath them.

Quackity’s look shifted from the paperwork on his desk that Dream had set down back to Tommy, and when it was apparent Dream wasn’t going to continue, Quackity spoke up, “It’s indisputable.” The words clipped, the frown on his face deepened but he still went on, “It’s a joint facility, owned by both me and the President, hidden in a…” He paused as he shot a glance toward Dream who gave a nod, a confirmation for Quackity to continue “Specific area of the nation.”

Quackity’s nose wrinkled in a kind of distaste for the president at the mention of the man. It was a distaste Tommy had seen so many times before. Quackity and Schlatt worked together for some things, not a lot, but some, and while it was a necessity for both of them, they didn’t even pretend to tolerate it.

That must have been more honest than most agreements that Tommy had seen in his life..

“We think their plan is to target it either tonight or tomorrow,” Silence trickled through the room as Dream’s head tilted in a calculated way in Quackity’s direction. “All we know is that they are striking soon, and we need time to prepare, because should they succeed, it could mean a lot of devastation that is preventable.”

According to the Lab, the Arctic’s target was a building that contained the layouts and infrastructure of the city all in digital and physical form as far as Tommy was understanding.

Quackity owned half the land that L’manberg called its own, and Schlatt, as the president, of course he would have to know about the building. The files the Arctic had stolen from one of Schlatt’s compounds the day before had been identified as the layouts of this building, layouts that could either be the life or death of them all.

…

Okay, probably not the life or death of them all but sometimes it’s just fun to be a little dramatic, right?

Heroes had already been called. The Warden, Hannah, and a few others. According to Dream, HQ had given them all the heroes they could spare. With the rise of crime across the city however, they didn’t have many heroes ready to help.

Tommy wouldn’t lie, their forces were spread thin, things all across the city were getting more and more complicated and it looked like gangs of villains were beginning to team. Everything pointed to something big happening, and Tommy didn’t know if he was prepared for that when it went down.

And yet this was familiar, Tommy had thought then, strolling through the quartz paths of Las Nevadas, tight on Dream and Quackity’s heels, the two of them silent, not wishing to disclose any information about their coming mission, not to anyone here in the streets of Las Nevadas. They were already being suspicious in the first place, with Dream and Quackity walking side by side through the roads of Las Nevadas with no arguments or visible ill will harbored between the two, there was no doubt in Tommy’s mind that there were one or two strained ears ready to pick up any strand of conversation between the two men, and more eyes on them than he could count.

That was when Quackity had gotten the call. It was a short message from Foolish, one that still caused the younger man to sigh against his cell phone, giving Foolish on the other side a quick, “Be right back.” Before hanging up completely, eyes focused on the two that still stood in his company.

Dream, as he always was, was quick with a solution, one that Quackity agreed on. Tommy would go in as a warm up for the rest of the night.

Quackity and Dream already had their blood flowing, their conversation from earlier making them tense and on edge, ready for everything that would be coming along with the night as it progressed.

A building just outside of Las Nevadas had been broken into, and while the building technically wasn’t on the property of quartz and lies, it was still property Quackity owned. So the two men sent in Tommy, the mission a warmup for the inevitable conflict that would come with the rest of the night.

Brunette hair flashed in the dim light of the closed building, Tommy continuing to chase after whoever it was that had broken into Quackity’s facility. The red that tinted Tommy’s glasses did nothing to hide the flash of eyes over a shoulder, and the look of fear and determination stapled together in a thick mess with panting breaths and a quick pace.

Earlier that night Tommy had taken Wilbur home, escorting him to the bus stop where the two of them waited for about ten minutes, lost in flittering bright conversation before the transport vehicle arrived.

It was painted in that black and gold of L’manberg that all city buses were, and even Wilbur commented on the ugliness of the color pallet as they stepped on the bus, taking seats in the middle. Tommy couldn’t say he didn’t hate the colors, black and gold were always a cool combination in his eyes, but he wouldn’t lie and say he didn’t like the original L’manberg colors better.

The gold and red and blue used to shine throughout the city, painting buildings and streets and windows in their bright color was reminiscent of a time where the nation was more peaceful, a time when they all felt the pull of community in the wake of tragedy. Ah, but not everything could be colorful and bright, could it. So Schlatt had changed the colors, saying that a black and gold flag was more of a threatening sight for the god that left them here. He said the colors would scare him off further into the wastelands of which he belonged.

Wilbur’s hair had flashed just like the intruder Tommy was after now as the two parted ways at the transit station, the man waving as he departed on a bus that was headed towards a lovely part of the city, just on the edges of the ice districts. The houses there were so domestic there, so calming and just so normal. Tommy wanted to live there someday, and if he didn’t die before then, he at least wanted to see Wilbur’s place. It had to have been messy right? Tommy thought as the older man’s bus pulled away and Tommy caught sight of Wilbur speaking on the phone through that window painted black and gold, his bus pulling slowly out of the transit station. He could see Wilbur’s place now in his mind’s eye. He had never been there but Wilbur just had so much personality, he had so much that was just so outward about him that Tommy knew the man’s house would just scream that everything was so Wilbur.

It was odd how everything was now a reminder of the past to Tommy, the thought sparked in his mind as he rushed further through the building, gaining on the thief their feet pounding on the ugly blue patterned carpets of the floor, strained breaths filling the air. Maybe Tommy just needed to keep his mind on the now, his thoughts were already jumbled enough, he didn’t need more distractions here.

The man in front of Tommy stumbled on some of that ugly loose carpet, and that was all the hero needed to make his move. All thoughts of Wilbur or the days prior were shoved behind him, his mind zeroing in on everything in front of him like a dog ready to pounce on its prey, because he just needed to focus and hope things would turn out in the future.

Moments later Tommy had the intruder on the floor, knee pressed against the man’s back as Tommy grabbed his arms, forcing them into the handcuffs he always kept at his side. The intruder, like any caught criminal Tommy had to deal with, was swinging curses through the still air of the building, the sounds bouncing off the bare walls and empty hallways.

With one tap on his earpiece, the sound crackled to life. Keeping his weight on the back of the intruder below him, Tommy’s earpiece crackled with the voice of his mentor.

“You good, Theseus?” The man asked, voice changer apparent even across the earpiece. Tommy looked down to his captive then back up, making sure to keep the struggling man safely on the ground.

With another tap on the earpiece Tommy was sure the man on the other side could hear the strings of curses and death threats of the man on the floor from across the line. “Yup, we’re all good here, I just need someone to come in and take him in.”

A slight hum crackled over the line along with a sniff that Tommy recognized as laughing Dream only saved for moments like these when they were out in the field and he didn’t want to show too much. It was a sign of approval in the darkness of their missions, a kind of approval Tommy craved from the man.

The two stayed on the line in silence until finally the guards of Las Nevadas showed up to take this intruder wherever Quackity kept people like this who thought they could get away with robbing him blind. Their black masks seemed somehow more eerie in the dim light of the empty building, and even more strange as they hauled the man into the darkness of the hallways taking him towards the entrance as they ignored how the strings of curses turned from anger to fear to bargaining as the man began to realize where he was going.

But what did Tommy mind? it was just another mission, just another thing for him to show off his well curated skills with, to warm up for the mission which would continue with the dark of the night.

The Las Nevadas guards waved him out of the building and in the cool of the night Tommy began his trek back to both Dream and Quackity where the two were waiting by the younger’s car. This was another thing he could use to show Dream he was ready for whatever else was going to happen tonight, and if Dream didn’t think he was ready, if he didn’t give him that pat on the back he always did or that whispered approval of Tommy’s good job, Tommy didn’t think he would be ready for the coming mission of the rest of the night.

It was pathetic. The fact he only saw light in his worth with the approval of someone just above him in his eyes. When had that started? When had he begun to lean into the light of that approval like a sunflower to sun, thinking the only way he could prove himself was through those smiles and tellings of good doing.

When had he begun needing that kind of approval outside of this faction of his work?

When had he started looking for that same kind of approval in Wilbur’s eyes?

The car came into view, Dream on the phone and Quackity just by his side, leaning against the slick black hood of his vehicle with tense arms propped over his chest, a kind of shield from the outside world.

Tommy would be lying if he too didn’t feel a little out of place right now, especially with the rest of what they had planned for tonight. He was relieved to finally be back under the careful watch of Dream, under the protective gaze of Quackity even. The energy that had built up in his veins over the past week could only truly be exerted through nights like these. Friendly banter in the light of the library with sounds of laughter bouncing through the rafters and across the pages of the books only got him so far.

Here? Now? The fights he would inevitably get himself into tonight? This is where he thrived, where he wished to stay until the day he died lest he live an awfully boring life.

Boring stagnant lives were not built for Tommy, and Tommy, though it pulled on him with gentle hands and soft whispers, was not built for that life of peace either.

“We haven’t gotten a call yet from my facilities but they’re keeping an eye out.” Quackity informed Tommy as soon as the boy got close enough to the car. “For them it’s business as usual until something big happens, we don’t want any strange behavior to alert the Arctic to our knowledge of their plans.”

Dream huffed, “Should the Lab be right about them this time.”

The man had a point, the Arctic was elusive, strange. They kept to themselves and their plans never really fit together to the people at the lab. From their first appearance to now, everything they did was like pieces of different puzzles that had no hope of fitting together because each would make a different picture. Each puzzle meant something else and each of their actions never lined up with the others.

Now, Quackity was a good driver, a great one, actually, but as Tommy and Dream got into the car, Dream sitting in the back and Tommy in the front, Tommy couldn’t help but feel the nervousness of the beginning of the night creeping through him. It strained his nerves, and everything that caught his sight outside the car window as Quackity drove seemed haunting.

The night was young, brightened by the lights of the city and the spotted trash fires lit by the homeless around the deeper corners of alleyways. Quackity and Schlatt’s building that the lab was sure was being targeted by the Arctic was located in one of the more poor areas of L’manberg, a diversion to anyone else that would try and go looking for it, unknowing of Quackity’s methods of avoiding thieves and unwanted visits from enemies.

Pufferfish Alleyway is what everyone called the place. Originally Pufferfish Alleyway was a singular alleyway where people would wait to rob any passerby before the name spread to include everywhere within five miles of the place. It felt like a lawless place, somewhere where murders and robberys would and have happened, never caught, and never stopped.

According to Quackity, it was the perfect place for this building. It was well guarded, and from the outside as Quackity pulled his car to a stop, it looked like absolute trash. No one would think that something as important as the building with all the plans for building and infrastructure would sit right here in the center of Pufferfish Alley, no one even really knew it existed except for its owners. It’s owners, and now all of Pogtopia and HQ.

Parking the car, the owner of Las Nevadas exited the vehicle, a content smile on his face that was reflected nowhere else in the area. He looked so out of place Tommy thought as he stepped up beside the man. He was dressed in black slacks, a white long sleeved collared shirt with a red tie and black suspenders. This was casual wear for Quackity, but in the dirt and grime of this area of the nation, he didn’t look any less than a king. With a smile plastered to his face and that scar rippling down across his features through his eye and lips like it was a marker of a claim from its giver, a warning to anyone else that Quackity himself wore with a sick kind of pride.

The building itself was small, no more than three floors from where Tommy stood. The boy didn’t even realize it was the right building until Dream started walking towards the doors of the place. Tommy cringed at the sight of it, with its broken windows and half boarded up holes Tommy knew it was supposed to fit right into the area, to blend in among the other buildings like it was just one of them. Old and abandoned, it looked exactly like it was supposed to. And yet it reminded Tommy of a different time, a different place where injuries had been frequent, and hateful strikes between people who once loved each other stained the air and skin like it had never been any different.

Quackity had done a good job in making this place feel hopeless and unapproachable.

Still, Tommy followed behind Dream, just as he always did, entering the run down building right beside the man he called his brother.

The door creaked behind them, a loud noise crackling through the building as Quackity shoved the broken door shut behind them.

Like it would do anything.

And… not like Tommy didn’t expect it, but he at least thought he would be surprised by the inside of the building. It was exactly what he thought it would look like though: run down, destroyed, completely unlivable. Humidity seeped through the air like they were in a greenhouse, broken wood and pipes stuck through the ceiling. Dirt and broken tile littered the floor beneath them, and somewhere across the floor Tommy could make out a faint dripping noise, a reminder of a night that he would kill to forget.

Tommy’s eyes shifted across the premises, taking in every detail just as Dream had instructed him to so long ago. “This way.” Quackity called, stepping over a broken chair. He waved a hand in a come on kind of way before beginning down a staircase Tommy just noticed.

Tommy stepped over broken glass and splinters of wood, feet catching on a torn rug below him as he made his way carefully to the staircase. Looking down the steps, the bright red that the carpets that covered them used to be were now black with burn marks or dirt, further shadowed by the minimal light that seeped through the air of the broken building. Dream stepped up to his side, his figure a silhouette and dim in the darkness of the building. How was Tommy supposed to follow Quackity like this?

Dream nudged the side of Tommy’s mask and the nightvision of his goggles flickered to life, taking Tommy aback.

“Really been out of practice so long you forgot you have night vision on your gear?” Tommy rolled his eyes, though he knew the movement was far from visible to Dream.

“I’m just a wittle nervy.” Tommy whined poking his index fingers together just knowing the action was more than annoying to Dream. And even though Dream wore his mask he could practically see the face he was making beneath that porcelain smile as he elbowed Tommy’s side, earning a well saved laugh from the boy.

“You are the one to laugh at your own jokes.” Dream scoffed, beginning his descent down the stairs, Quackity already calling for them from the bottom of the flight as if he hadn’t just rushed down the staircase himself.

Tommy didn’t like places underground, he hadn’t for a very very long time. Now that they had this mission, the staircase so obviously leading below the natural dirt of the earth? It was a little unnerving, enough to make Tommy’s stomach feel too small, his skin too covered and the ceilings too close.

Still, Tommy began his own rush down the stairs, elbowing Dream back with far more force than the man had applied to him. “They’re funny.” Tommy chuckled, ignoring the way the walls felt like they were creeping closer in his tunneled vision, “What can I say?”

At the bottom of the stairs there was a smaller door, and if Tommy didn’t know Quackity better, he would have thought that this whole thing was just a joke to get them to come all the way out here to a comically small door.

…

Actually… knowing Quackity, it might just be a trick like that.

But the man opened the door, and behind it weren’t any elephants, there wasn’t any blazing fire or curling snakes like any prank Tommy might have expected from Quackity. Instead, there were marble floors, pristine and white aside from a few dirt smears which led from the door Quackity held open further into the white room beyond.

This would be a long night, wouldn’t it, Tommy thought as the sight of scurrying workers crossed his vision, too busy to notice either their boss or the two heroes beside him. He just wished that it wasn't tonight when the Arctic decided to inevitably strike.

Chapter 15: Claustrophobia: The fear of small spaces

Chapter Text

Tommy spent no time gawking at the sight through the open door. It wasn’t like he hadn’t expected for something like this to be coming out of a building that was jointly owned by both the president and the richest man in the entire Nation of L’manberg.

The place was beautiful. With the white floors minimally traced with dirt from the raggedy building above to the brown and black patterned rugs that–

Ok, well… Maybe the building wasn’t the most beautiful Tommy thought, cringing beneath his mask at the pattern that raggedly traced the rather threadbare looking rugs. The brown and black patterned carpets were pretty ugly, and very stained from years of use. That all being said, the lights that hung above the room were warm, hanging low from the rather short ceiling above. This was a hidden building after all, wasn’t it?

People rushed from room to room throughout the hallway that stretched in front of them. Quackity really meant this was a ‘business as usual’ kind of day, didn’t he, Tommy thought, watching one of the employees haul a stack of folders from one office to the next, their face nearly covered by the papers.

Then again, some of the workers looked to be packing up their things and waving goodbye to their peers. Maybe their work day was just now coming to an end. It was very like Quackity to have his workers come in late and leave late, he had a nightlife to run at the Casino, so of course he was abiding by the same rules, rising late and leaving from his work late. It wasn’t really all that surprising that his workers carried the same schedule.

Still, the place was crowded, far more crowded than Tommy had expected it to be.

Dream seemed to have picked up on Tommy’s thoughts as well. “A lot of workers are here this late at night,” His voice was steady, though there was a dangerous kind of deepness beneath the words even as his head tilted in quackity’s direction. “Why didn’t you send them home early?” The man scanned all the people like they were liabilities, things that could and would be getting in the way of their mission.

With a shrug, Quackity only looked over the crowd, his maskless face seeming more pale in the now harshly warm lights of the building and he shrugged, a stiffness in the motion that Told Tommy he too wasn’t happy about the situation.

Tommy shivered, there were no windows to be seen down here, not that any natural light would be showing through the glass this late into the night. Still, it was a bit overwhelming. Taking a deep breath the healer followed just behind Quackity, Dream right by his side with a soft mumbled assurance and a hand on his shoulder like it was an anchor to the world outside his own thoughts. Of course Dream would be able to tell Tommy’s tenseness, or maybe he just knew that Tommy hated the underground.

“It’s still business as usual for them, remember?” Quackity finally responded, leading the other two down the hallway towards an elevator. “To keep any suspicions from the Arctic low.” He stated, though the words sounded a little more strained now. “My workers go home around this time, as for Schlatt…” A pause as Quackity bit his lip right where his scar crossed over the skin, “Hopefully they’ll be gone before anything bad happens, It’s not like I can tell them to leave, they don’t work for me.”

He sounded irritated and a little past annoyed at this point.

“We went through a kind of ‘backdoor’ entrance to this place just now.” Quackity continued putting air quotes around his emphasized word, moving on from the subject of Schlatt’s workers, leaving no room for argument. “If the Arctic had seen us going through the real entrance I doubt they would enact whatever plan they have tonight and wait for another day.” He frowned, “That or they would gather more people and then show back up.”

Dream nodded by Tommy’s side. “I expected you to put this much thought into your plan, Quackity.” He paused, head tilting in such a way where Tommy could tell he was looking over the workers yet again as they waited for the elevator to arrive, he shifted on his feet, the slightest movement but one Tommy still picked up on from knowing the man for so long as a move of discomfort. “I would have thought, however, that maybe we would have a freer place to fight in should things go south and the Arctic show up, especially the Blade.”

Quackity gave the man a look, sparing an apologetic glance towards Tommy at the oldest man’s words. “If I had any control over Schlatt’s employees, you know I would be sending them home at the same time I sent my own workers home.” The man stated, a strain pulling through his voice in a way that reminded Tommy of the kind of relationship that was held between the man in front of him and the president.

Dream and Quackity stared each other down, Tommy stood between them like he was the only thing keeping the two from fighting. But Quackity seemed to know Dream was right, that there was nothing either of them could do against Schlatt’s commands. So with the confirming ding of the elevator as it reached their floor, doors opening the welcome them into its dim lights and metal arms, Quackity was the first to break, eyes flickering from the porcelain mask in a kind of defeat Tommy rarely saw on the man. Quackity just knew that there was nothing he would be able to do to help Schlatt’s workers right alongside his own. It was strange, but something Tommy had expected from Schlatt. He told Wilbur before and he would say it again: he disliked Schlat because of the little care and love he held for the people of his nation, the nation he governed. Even the people who worked directly under him had somehow ended up meaning nothing in the long run to the president.

Tommy didn’t even know if the man cared about anything less than power at this point.

Quackity turned, leading them further into the rickety elevator, his lips pressed together like he was keeping himself from snapping out at Dream or Tommy, or anyone really because of the helplessness he felt over the situation, helplessness Tommy himself understood with flashes of memories from moments he couldn’t regret.

A heavy silence of shared knowledge rested between the three of them like the calm before the storm. Dream was the first to break the silence in the elevator, his words the only sound against the dense hum of movement from the metal machine. That tone on his voice set back into a casual lilt in an attempt to get all their minds back on track.

“Karl was the one to see this happening, right? It was his first vision in a long time of the Arctic.” A pause as Dream continued to observe each part of the elevator like it was a book he needed to memorize, he didn’t even see the warning look Tommy sent in his direction at his words. “Is he going to be here to help out?”

Karl was an incredible hero. He worked for the lab and was able to receive little snippets of sight of the future. For more predictable villains, it was very easy for him to point out their next moves through his own ability, eyes glowing purple and cyan, a mischievous smile on his face.

Karl and Quackity however had… a history that Quackity refused to share, a glint coming to his eye any time the other man was brought up. There was something about the look Quackity gave him in those times that caused Tommy to just stop asking about the two of them, a kind of pain in the air that Tommy couldn’t understand.

Karl on the other hand refused to say that he had Quackity had any sort of history at all, a kind of fury on his own face at the mere mention of the other man. Tommy had learned to stop asking him questions after a while too. Dream said it wasn’t his business, but Tommy still was curious. Wounds could be both physical and mental, even bonds between people got their scratches and dents every once in a while, and Tommy was a healer, that kind of hurt interested him more than anything, because it was the one kind of hurt he hadn’t had in a very long time.

Still Tommy acknowledged that his powers only reached so far.

And some wounds couldn’t be fixed.

Quackity stiffened in the slightest at the mention of the name, The elevator doors releasing a slight ding and falling open to a blank hallway beyond, they had to be several floors under the surface, but that didn’t seem to phase Dream or Quackity as much as it did Tommy. And Quackity… Quackity shrugged, beginning to lead them through the blank hallway beyond walking through the hallways of the compound all the same, Tommy and Dream on his heels as they reached a door, the owner of Las Nevadas faced away from them and slipped a key from his pocket, opening the door and answering with his back turned.

His expression was hidden from their view.

Tommy looked away.

“Mr. Jacobs isn’t welcome in my establishments.” He stated with a flatness to his tone that left no room for questioning. “And you already said you got as much as you needed out of him so he would be no use to us anyways.”

Karl would have been a good addition to the team, Tommy knew that. With his ability to see glances and flickers of the future he could be invaluable in action. But Quackity had said it himself. Dream had already gotten when he needed to hear from Karl, and none of them wanted the Lab to reach its grubby hands further down into hero business lest they think they are the ones in charge and not those in power all the way over at HQ.

So the two heroes nodded and slipped into the open Door Quackity. A brief glance between Tommy and Dream said enough, and all talk of Karl was ceased.

Beyond the door was an office space, much smaller than the one Quackity held in Las Nevadas. However it’s lack in size was made up for through its comfort. Warm lights hung above Quackity’s desk, illuminating the lot of the room in its soft tones that made Tommy just want to melt into them and lay on the floor.

The desk itself was rather small, and taking his seat behind it Quackity would have looked like a normal boss if it wasn’t for his white eye and jagged scar. “We are the last one’s here it seems.” The man finally stated looking over the messages on his phone. “I’m kind of glad, I can’t imagine how I would have felt if something had happened here when it was completely unguarded.” He huffed and set his phone down, going to look over the sticky notes someone else had placed on his desk in a note of urgency for their boss.

“Nihachu is patrolling the east side of the building and all the entrances from over there, Ember is on the West side covering all the other entrances to the building that are plausible for an opening by the Arctic…” Quackity looked further over his notes, eyes narrowing on a specific line before placing the paper back down on his desk and folding his hands together under him. “Warden is on the North side just in case, and we came in through the south side. However, only Schlatt and I know about that one, I’ve still placed the Fairy there just in case and it looks like…” He pulled up his phone once more before settling it back on the desk, a tilt to his lips. “She’s already in position.”

“That leaves us.” Dream stated, slipping a hand onto Quackity’s desk and looking over each of the sticky notes with a smooth and steady look, eyes catching on the one with his name scrawled across the top of the paper. “You want me to walk around and check up on each of our people?” He questioned, looking over the rest of the notes. “And what about Tommy?”

Quackity slipped the pages aside from his desk, Tommy taking a step closer to check on the plans for himself. “I need him in the file room down on the bottom floor.” He stated, though there was a pull to his mouth. “I know it’s not the most dangerous place where you would want to be Tommy, and it’s not by Dream’s side either, but it is the most important place in the building, it has–” He cut himself off, lips drawing into a thin line, gaze darting between both of Tommy’s eyes like he was asking a silent question. “Well, I can’t tell you what it has now because that’s a secret kept between me and Schlatt and me and Schlatt only… For now.” Quackity looked back down to his papers, flipping a few aside to reveal a map of the upper floors of the building, the entrances marked with dark red strikes, “But if the Arctic got there and was able to get their hands on anything, a lot of bad things could happen.” His head tilted to the left and he stood from his desk chair, “Given that there is no way they can know about that place to begin with, we know they’re after something else. Still, Tommy,” Their eyes met, “Keep your guard up and keep safe, okay?”

Tommy stood straighter at the direct words, nodding and sparing a glance to Dream. He was disappointed that he would probably not get to fight tonight but he was relieved at the same time, not wanting to run into any members of the Arctic, because they were the Arctic. For god's sake, they were known for their cruelty and lack of mercy towards anyone. Then again, being deeper in the complex where Quackity had set Tommy aside meant that Tommy would be further from any exits in that place under the ground. That thought unsettled Tommy, but that would be better than another near death experience with Blade or Angel, right? And it would be even better than any run in with Siren, especially given what the man knew.

So Tommy nodded, eyes scanning the layout of his section. “You’ve got it boss man, you know I’ll be doing my best.”

The three parted ways, Dream heading back up to look out for the other heroes upstairs, leaving Tommy with a tight embrace the boy returned and soft whispers of reassurance.

Quackity stuck with Tommy, guiding the boy away from his mentor, the two’s eyes still locked across the room as Dream sent Tommy off with a salute, the elevator doors closing in front of him, taking him away.

The place he was stationed was secret, safe from the outside world. They didn’t know what the Arctic was after, they didn’t even know why they wanted to target this place to begin with.

This was Quackity’s building as much as it was the president’s building, targeting anything of Quackity’s was a dangerous move, often one that barred your access from Las Nevadas and all the information that lay inside unless Quackity was compensated for whatever damages were done to his reputation and property. Quackity had that reputation to hold up, he had to keep his spine straight and eyes never wavering from his end goal, Tommy knew the man wouldn’t let one mission of the Arctic change that resolve that seeped about him like a fog.

Quackity still held that straight confident walk and stare even as he led Tommy further and further down into the underground complex, both climbing into a second elevator where Quackity put in a four digit code Tommy took to memory, 1116. That confident walk and cold stare was a kind of resolve that Tommy envied about the man.

Still, a shiver snaked down his spine like a shadow of hate. Pogtopia was different from this, far different. While Tommy’s home complex was also underground, it harbored high ceilings and soft lights. There it felt so open, the white tile that lined the floors making each room feel more free with every step. There was no place at HQ that Tommy could dislike because its huge walls and larger rooms created a kind of open space of which Tommy could never be scared of.

Here however, in this unfamiliar building stored far out in the Pufferfish Alleyways of L’manberg, the feeling that spread through Tommy’s skin like molten lava cut his breaths short. The dark ceiling above seemed to be dragging down against the harshness of the elevator lights.

He had dealt with this before however, hadn’t he?

There was the time Siren had tricked him into a closet on some boat the villain was trying to hijack. Then, the walls felt like they had crushed down against him, and it took all of Tommy’s willpower for him to keep from begging into the air, hoping for that cursed god to hear as he asked for him to let Tommy out of the dark and cramped space of the closet which felt to be getting smaller and smaller by the moment.

There had been plenty of times where he dealt with situations like this, much more serious, and lived to tell the story.

He could do it again, he thought, stepping out of the elevator as it came to an abrupt stop, Quackity leading them further as the automatic lights of the hallway flickered on, it would just take a little more willpower than usual. And it wasn’t like he was going to be near the fights, Quackity put Tommy down here to guard the valuables, not fight to protect them. Keeping concentrated down here would be hard. Ignoring the low ceilings and the dark color pallet of the rooms would be even harder.

Still, Tommy had gone through worse times before. He just wished this fear was one his power could heal.

It always came down to the mental injuries of things, didn’t it? Tommy thought as Quackity opened one last door, near hidden by the wall with their similar colors. Mental wounds were not ones that Tommy’s power had any say over, no matter how much he wished he could fix them with just a wave of his hand.

There were no people around this deep into Quackity’s complex. Most of the workers had been stationed upstairs, or were going home for the day by the time the three of them arrived in that slick black vehicle of Quackity’s. For some reason, Tommy felt on edge, and not just because of the phantom eyes of his enemies that he thought haunted him down here, ready to strike in order to enact whatever plan they had. It wasn’t the increasing feel of the pressure of the walls creeping in on him either, that was bearable at least, that was something he normally dealt with no matter the tenseness that still gripped his core. No, it’s because down here, he would be all alone, only the closing walls and secrets Tommy himself wasn’t allowed to know about.

It wasn’t often that Dream left Tommy alone during missions. Tommy could handle himself, he knew it, Dream knew it, everyone knew it. But Dream and Tommy were a duo, two halves of a block puzzle that just fit together so perfectly. They knew each other, knew each of their moves like the back of their hands, in fights, they shared a mind.

Tommy just sighed at the thought, running a gloved hand over his arm in an attempt to soothe the goosebumps that had risen below the fabric of his suit like it was a warning for the mission to come.

“This is the only entrance.” Quackity said finally the words no reassurance. The man grabbed one of Tommy’s hands to deposit a long key. “This is the only way anyone can get in or out, but it’s still important that you keep your eyes open and stay alert, because we don’t know why the Arctic is targeting my building.” His mouth drew into a thin line and the light behind his eyes flickered, Tommy feeling eerie given the look Quackity now gave him, though he kept still, kept listening. Quackity went on. “There are multiple purposes for this building: finance, infrastructure, city events, you know, building plans and such.” He sighed, eyes turning back to the door of the room.

The room was small, only a few file drawers dotted the room, and a small desk rested in the corner, an old rolly chair set neatly behind it. Even the lights of the room were unremarkable, they were those long thin ones that were always put in schools or office buildings to save money. All that to say, the room did not have that eccentric over the top look that just screamed Quackity. It was boring.

“This room really just holds all the finished plans before they get sent off for their celebration or construction or whatever.” The man put his hands on his hips and let out a deep sigh, eyes tracing over each of the file drawers like he was counting them. “You stay safe, if the Arctic does come tonight, you should be okay down here, but still, keep your eyes and ears open because no one can really tell their plans. If they don’t end up coming tonight, I’ll fetch you when we’re sure everything’ll be fine and do all this again tomorrow.”

Quackity took a deep breath, letting out a long sigh before beginning to back up towards the door.

“I may have my beef with Karl, but his future sight is no joke, we were lucky that he was able to see this.” He placed one hand on the doorframe of the room, running his fingers across the wood like he wanted to get a splinter from the rough frame. “If all turns out good, I’ll knock seven times on the door to let you know all is good, sound alright?”

Tommy let his eyes flicker back to Quackity by the doorway, nodding once before hopping up to sit on the small desk that took up the corner of the room.

“Seven knocks if we’re good, and keep my guard up.” Tommy confirmed, more focused on the room itself than Quackity’s stare. “You know me big man, I’ll be good, won’t tell anyone about the secrets of your room either.” He raised his goggles, giving Quackity a mischievous wink that just seemed so Wilbur, “You can count on me, I’ll see you in the morning.”

With a nod and a smile, Quackity left him in the room, closing the plain door behind him. A slight click sounded from the other side and then footsteps receded, leaving Tommy in the silence of the room.

This would be easy. This time he could prepare before someone came knocking on the door. Oftentimes he was left to react to things as they happened, with a bullet or an arrow piercing his side as he stood by Dream, ready for the night of heroism to begin. Usually he was thrown into the fights so fast, no time to gather himself, only able to react through instinct and muscle memory.

Here there was one door. Here there was one enemy. Here, Tommy was prepared.

Should the Blade break through that door, Tommy was ready, a knife strapped to his thigh that he knew had left a scar or two on the Blade’s arms. If the Angel burst through the door Tommy could fight much better, they were more evenly matched after all.

And if it was Siren who broke through that door?

There was a pause in Tommy’s thoughts and he slipped the knife from his side to fiddle with the blade in his hands. He needed to keep his thoughts steady, and his actions even more calculated.

Because if it was Siren who walked through that door, Tommy was sure he would fight the man as he always did, life saving or not. They were back to how they always were, that much Tommy was sure of. Out in Tommy’s neighborhood, Tommy was just Tommy, there wasn’t anything he could do against some villain who had come to stalk him down, no. But here, Tommy felt more in his element. That fear for Siren stayed plastered to his ribcage like it was a part of him, but it was also here in situations like these that Tommy knew Siren the best.

They best communicated through violence, that had been how it always was, and it would stay like that until the day one of them finally killed the other.

No more healing.

No more mercy.

Siren never exhibited any kind of mercy to Theseus in the past, and Tommy had healed the man out of guilt.

He gritted his teeth, putting his goggles back over his eyes before continuing to fiddle with his knife. He had done it out of guilt, nothing more.

Siren was morally corrupt, especially in the presence of heroes. He did what he wanted and he showed no mercy through any of his twisted actions. He was proficient in hand to hand combat and he had a family that he fought with. He had this sharp look to him that said everything you needed to know. He was the weakest of the group, he preferred to slink in the darkness of fights until he was found out or needed by the team, he was swift and vocal and angry and so much like Tommy it hurt.

Because who was Tommy to judge Siren’s every move as if he hadn’t just been describing himself as well.

Siren, at moments, reminded Tommy of himself and he hated it.

So he would shove that thought away into the pit of his throat and continue on like he didn’t see himself in every move the villain made.

The boy sat on the desk, eyes wandering throughout the small room. It was simple, office like. If Tommy didn’t know better he would have thought he was still in Quackity’s office building from earlier, just stored away in a side room until the police showed up.

The walls were red, and the file cabinets beige, lost in color so many years gone now. There were carpets down here too, they were an ugly kind of dark green you would see in your grandmother’s house, a blatant mockery of the bright grass so far above in the world shadowed in the darkness of the night.

Flipping the knife around in his hands as he idly watched the blade rotate in circles in the air. The room was quiet, and Tommy supposed if every movement he made didn’t feel as tense as his mind was to him it might be a comforting kind of silence. It was a small room after all, bright given the harsh lights, but it still reminded Tommy of a home office. One more look around the room and flash of the knife in his hand and Tommy almost cringed at the look of the room. It would be the kind of office in a domestic house, one where the children sat on their couch and watched as heroes saved the day, or as the president gave another one of his speeches, because without him, L’manberg wouldn’t be free, would it? The parents would be at work, that, or one of them would be in the kitchen, a smile on their face as they brought out food for the children.

That’s what normal families were like, weren’t they? Tommy didn’t know, he never really had anything like that. He was swapped from home to home because before the L’manberg revolution there were no homes who wanted an extra child, or an extra child like Tommy was. They had enough to deal with.

Tommy couldn’t mind. He had gotten what he wanted in the end right? He had what he deserved now, didn’t he?

One more flip of the knife and one more catch, it was a cycle of muscle memory at this point. Flip and catch, flip and catch, throw it higher, maybe, don’t hurt anyone or yourself, you need your energy. Flip and catch, flip and catch, throw, hit a target, retrieve, and go again.

Muscle memory, Tommy thought, that was all it was.

“When you train, you begin to lose your thoughts in the fighting.” Dream once said to Tommy after a large fight between him and The King, a self proclaimed villain who never really interfered with hero business. The man waved an arm around their surroundings, that mask which covered his face not betraying any thoughts beneath. It was rare that Tommy couldn’t read Dream, but he was younger then, more afraid of death than he was now.

“You can’t let that ease of fighting follow you from training to fighting in missions.” Putting one hand on Tommy’s shoulder, he drew the boy’s eyes towards him, sliding that eerie mask up so the boy could just see Dream’s bright eyes, dull with the heat of battle that preceded them. A black mask covered the lower part of his face, a kind of precaution they would need in the midst of battle, and yet the concern in the man’s eyes was so real. “People will take that ease you have with fighting and use it as an excuse to tear your heart from your chest, these people have no mercy Theseus, so never let your body take over your actions, rely on your mind.”

And he had, he had for so long. Fights became harder, but at the end of each Tommy would walk away with less injuries, and far less to heal from the civilians and his companions.

His mind was too soft though. Wasn’t it that same part of him that blindly stumbled across a broken cavern, his own injuries from the fight healing slowly in the cold? Wasn’t it that same mind who looked into the bare eyes and open features of his worst enemy and decided to look away because there was no honor in that? Wasn’t it him that sat beside the man and took the burden of those cuts and broken bones onto his own back?

Who was he to trust his mind and not his pure instincts.

A sigh escaped through Tommy’s mask, and for a moment he lifted the thing from his face and took a deep breath, then another, hoping to clear his mind of the thoughts that plagued him like they were a physical scent in the air.

The air down here was stale with ill movement however. Like at the Library, dust floated in the air, caught against the beams of light from the ceiling, so different from the sunlight that reflected across every surface.

How long has it been now? Ten minutes? An hour? Two hours? Tommy wasn’t sure, and he didn’t want to check. Checking would make him restless, and he didn’t want to be on edge all night, especially if there came a point where he would need his energy.

If there was some point where the Arctic showed up.

The Arctic.

And Siren.

This would be their first interaction between each other in costume since that night in the ice districts. So much had happened to Tommy in between that time.

Tommy wouldn’t be surprised if Siren tried to kill him if they ran into each other tonight. He had this fear when Siren found him on the way home and the fear continued to clutch at his chest like a deep musical note, never-ending in the sea of uncertainty. Tommy had seen Siren at his weakest, and he was sure that as far as Siren was aware, he had also seen his full face though the image was nothing more than dust now in Tommy’s mind.

The Arctic didn’t leave loose ends, and if Tommy was sure of anything, he was sure that Siren would be after him, and maybe tonight, he would finally cut short that loose thread of his and leave Tommy bleeding on the floor once he found him.

Nothing had stopped him before, and Tommy was sure that nothing would stop him this time either.

Tommy continued to flip his knife through the air, messing with his own patterns of motion in an attempt to keep that warning from Dream fresh on his mind. Getting too familiar would screw Tommy up in real fights, and he just wouldn’t let that happen. Especially not if his life was on the line.

As long as people needed him he would stay alive, stay fighting.

More time passed, and the sound of the knife handle as it hit Tommy’s glove became rhythmic and soft to the ears. No noise punctured the walls of the small room, and that constant thump continued to catch Tommy’s eyes with a glint of light across the blade, though the boy’s mind still wandered. He began to count the tosses, doing extra at one hundred and beginning to spin the thing around at the ten marks.

One hundred took just over a minute. Five hundred took longer.

Four thousand was easy, five thousand he reached no problem.

He was bored.

Once the knife stumbled from his grip somewhere past the six thousand counting mark Tommy decided to just leave the thing where it fell to the floor, looking up into his eyes with the reflection of the ceiling lights like it could be sad. Lying back on the desk in order to just stare at the ceiling Tommy sucked in a breath.

He could say definitively that when coming back to work in his hero's life, he never expected to come back to a mission so boring. He would blame it on Dream, Dream was always one to keep Tommy from fights, the man would keep him satisfied enough to bring him along, but unnecessary fights were out of the question. He was needed, to Pogtopia, he was valuable, and though Dream didn’t say it much, leaving the words for empty streets and moments of pure unyielding emotion, Dream wanted nothing more than to store Tommy away in the back of a cabinet, a glass figure ready to break at any harsh movement.

“You forget how young you are.” Dream told Tommy constantly, an arm wrapped around his shoulder, “I think that L’manberg’s revolution screwed up everyone’s vision of what ‘young’ really means through the lens of violence.”

“But I haven’t forgotten.” Tommy let the words into the stale air of the cramped room, such a common phrase for Dream, one that despite everything had not stuck with him to the amount other things the Hero said had stuck with him like fragments of glass lodged in the folds of his brain.

That's where Dream and Wilbur differed. Tommy figured. Dream was always one to shade Tommy from violence, and while he acknowledged that Tommy could handle everything he came across on his own, Dream’s actions were made out of a pit of selfishness, a wish to give Tommy whatever he wanted for himself as a child.

Quackity was somewhat of a middle ground between the two other men. He was just as close to Tommy but more of a friend than a family member given their closeness in age. Quackity was nineteen now, Tommy sixteen, they had grown up in the revolution and still showed their own signs of their memories from that time in their life.

Wilbur was so different. To begin with he had treated Tommy as Dream did: a glass figure, just waiting to break with any force put on it. But he ended up observing Tommy, staring past his walls when the man thought he wasn’t looking, just trying to understand him.

What was he to Wilbur? Was he that puzzle the man made him out to be? Because to Tommy, Wilbur was beginning to become everything. Tommy saw that same puzzle in each of Wilburs steps, each of his looks. He looked at Tommy with a kind of guilt that Tommy wanted to lean into, to take advantage of in order to feel some of his own warmth.

Tommy was not a selfish person. He spent every day of his life carelessly giving his all to those around him, barely putting his trust into those closest to him because ever since he was younger he had to fight to feel safe, to keep even an ounce of that trust that was torn away from him so haphazardly. Yet when it came to Wilbur, it was Tommy who wanted to store him away, to keep those questioning and hard glances of calculation to himself. He wanted to hide him in the corner of the world and listen to his music, winding him up like his own personal music box with songs just for him.

That wasn’t even the worst part, Tommy came to realize, phone in his hand as he stared down at his contact for Wilbur. The man’s contact photo was a picture he had sent Tommy of a raccoon sitting alone at a cafe table with a broken plastic cup in front of him, coffee spilling all over the table and dripping down to the ground.

It’s you. The man had sent along with the photo, and Tommy had just rolled his eyes then, sending the other man a picture of a bat or something he found on the internet, saying the exact same thing back to him.

His phone had automatically set the raccoon photo to Wilbur’s contact, and Tommy had just thought it was fitting, and kept it as it was.

Closing his eyes, Tommy leaned on his palms, sitting up finally. Swinging his feet in the air, the old desk below him swayed in the slightest at the movement. The worst part of it all, was that Tommy knew Wilbur looked at him in the same way he looked at Wilbur. Tommy had seen it, he wasn’t blind to the obvious, so he had leaned into that look, acted the younger brother role because when else in his life had he been able to do that?

One more look down at his phone and Tommy turned the thing off, the ghost of the image of that raccoon plastered into his eyes like a haunting threat telling Tommy that it knew what he wanted.

The silence continued to consume his world, buzzing silently along his thoughts as he shoved those selfish wishes of his behind him and grabbed his knife back from the floor.

And so the night went on, Tommy just waiting for that signal from Quackity so he could finally get home, finally sleep. It was six in the morning now, and Tommy had spent the entirety of the night sitting in this room, just waiting for something, anything, really, to happen.

But why would his wishes be answered? they never had been before.

So he continued to wait, sure that they were all past the time when the Arctic would have shown up. Still, the time continued on, and the wish for sleep began to pull heavy on Tommy’s limbs, on his eyes and on his mind.

If something had happened he would be told about it, he had an earpiece after all, ready for whatever action Dream or Quackity threw at him.

As time marched on Tommy’s head began to rest further and further into his knees. It was eight in the morning his phone read in bright letters across his Lock Screen, no notifications blocking the picture despite the time that had passed.

Tommy proved over and over to not be a stickler to the rules. From the first day he snuck into the field until now. But he had at least learned his place in the necessity of heroes. Although boredom still clawed at his spine, he stayed put. Quackity would come back down eventually and bring Tommy off to sleep, maybe even in the compounds of Las Nevada’s in those cold soaked rooms whose blanket’s heat rivaled that of a loved one curled up by your side.

As thoughts of Las Nevadas creeped over his mind, a cotton blanket in the cold of this small room so far underground, a knock finally broke through the door to Tommy’s mind in the tune of a shave and a haircut.

Seven knocks was shave and a haircut, just seven, and oh was it so like Quackity to use that tune to relieve Tommy of a long night gone by. A night of boringness and nothing, but still a night of work.

And yet Tommy had somehow ignored the lack of a click in the door’s lock, pushed aside that the knock itself was too heavy, too demanding for Quackity himself in the wake of his tired mind.

He still, in the midst of his sleepiness and exhausted mind, dragged the key from his pocket which Quackity had handed him earlier with a wish of safety and a pat on the shoulder.

Tommy, somehow was still able to ignore the tension that seeped into the air as smoke from a deadly fire would.

With nearly no sleep under his eyes in the past twenty four hours, Tommy would still forever blame himself for what happened next. He would forever remember the following minutes, hours, days like they were the beginning of Tommy’s own descent into death.

How could Tommy forget that dark outfit, that mask which covered a face leaving the eyes to stare piercingly at whomever ended up crossing their path, blue as the sky yet sharp as a knife, even sharper maybe than the knife Tommy found in his own hand a moment later. With adrenaline high and all previous tiredness gone from his mind. Though the pull of exhaustion was heavy on his limbs in the most inconvenient way, how would Tommy ever be able to forget those eyes. How could he forget those wings, so large and all encompassing in the shade of the narrow outside hallway, or was it those very wings that blocked all light from past them like an eclipse in the height of twilight.

The hat, the eyes, the wings, even the mask so like Siren’s made Tommy move, not giving his opponent another second to realize his position.

Because it was not Quackity or Dream outside the doors of the small office room, filled to the brim with files Tommy needed to protect. It wasn’t even Hannah or Sapnap, or anyone he really cared about.

No, standing outside the door, eyes relaying nothing but pure shock into the air was the Angel.

Chapter 16: How fast can bones heal?

Chapter Text

Back when he was in the foster system, Tommy had one prevalent memory that now came to him in this moment, blue eyes on blue, shock turned confusion to realization. The emotions flickered past the Angel’s eyes faster than a bolt of lightning, but the memory still stayed cemented in Tommy’s mind as they held each other’s eyes.

It was a rather small house then, settled back around the edges of north L’manberg where most of the residential areas of the nation sat undisturbed. He was very young at the time, not old enough yet to have the sense to leave or the care to try.

He had been placed with a married couple. It was their first time actually getting a kid from the system, but it was far from Tommy’s first time being placed in a home.

He knew his stay wouldn’t last long, yet…

The woman that greeted him at the door and took him from the agent that brought him had so much energy. She waved her hands around with each one of her words and wore a smile that just looked so genuine in Tommy’s child mind.

She ushered him into the house with gentle hands and whispered promises of presents and good food that would last him the rest of his life. Tommy just wanted to see Tubbo again.

The woman was happy, joyful, all the love she held for life she placed on her sleeve, and she showed it off for all to see like it was something to brag about. Her husband, however, was different.

Much different.

Where she held smiles and laughter, all that followed him was silence, and stares as his wife spoke.

A perfect couple, Tommy thought years after, he had her to drag away the cold of silence and she had someone there to listen no matter what. Maybe they didn’t need a kid, they were perfect as they were anyway.

And it’s not like Tommy could ever stay.

It lasted a week or two, Tommy made the mistake of getting comfortable, of behaving himself for just this once because maybe, just maybe, he could see himself staying there. He might just have laid in bed most nights in that house and imagined what his life might be like with these two people forever.

He made a mistake there.

He got too comfortable with them.

But he kept his behavior good, kept himself in line just in case. Though one night that facade of a good child dried up.

Tommy had witnessed a party there at the house, with his two foster parents inviting over their friends, their children dragged at their heels with loud laughter and smiles just too big for their little faces.

Tommy had fun, he couldn’t lie, playing along with the other children like they had known each other forever.

The chatter of adults however always reached the ears of children, and how could Tommy resist listening to the deep voices of the older people in the household when it was his own foster father that spoke up. His voice was so rare to hear in the house on a normal day, hearing the deep grind of an announcement from the man’s throat caught both Tommy’s eyes and attention. A smile was on the man’s face, almost just as wide as the one his wife wore daily.

Tommy couldn’t remember the words now, just that deep grind of conversation and the silence that followed after by the other parents.

A gift from his father, or something of the sort, as far as Tommy could remember. Some alcoholic glass bottle that Tommy had seen several times before on the top shelf of their pantry. It shimmered in every color in the glow of the pantry light. No dust covered its edges and there was a fancy scrawl of a title Tommy couldn’t read on the front of the bottle. It was in perfect condition. The exact look of a prized possession.

Tommy’s foster father went on, a smile on his face and the bottle in his hands. He practically glowed in the warm lights of their kitchen, the bottle refracting a rainbow onto the man’s features.

It tastes like sunlight, he said, one drink and you’ll be seeing the future, one drink and one wish of yours will be granted.

How could a child not be intrigued by those words? And how could Tommy, of all children, not let the curiosity of the man’s words rot in his brain that night. It was all Tommy could think about, the wish that the man said could be granted by the liquid. He watched as the adults happily drank whatever was in the bottle, each smiling to one another, laughter rising throughout the night.

The words had obviously been an exaggeration by the man, a description of an alcohol that was rare and old, Tommy understood that later. The words still haunted him then.

So he waited. He and the children got tired, and the adults kept going. Minutes seemed to tick by slowly, each conversation from the adults grew softer, until finally one of them announced that they were fine to go. So they packed up, some of the parents picking up their children who had fallen asleep with the night. Soft kisses and whispered questions of ‘did you have a fun time?’ fluttered through the air right alongside mumbled responses through half asleep children.

Tommy’s own foster parents sent him off to bed. It had been nearly three weeks of Tommy being with them at that point, but still, that curiosity shuddered through Tommy’s brain to the point where he lay on his mattress with eyes wide open, the ceiling so dark in the deep of the night above him.

One wish of yours will be granted.

The words were harsh in Tommy’s mind, and they repeated over and over and over and over and over until he couldn’t take it anymore.

Surely Tommy deserved a wish, right? His life was a hell of moving from one place to another to another to another. He was in and out of houses in a week because no one could deal with the kind of energy Tommy brought along with him. Here was the place where he had been allowed for some reason or another to stay for longer than he had ever been able to stay anywhere before.

Just maybe one wish could solidify that stay forever.

That was Tommy’s wish: family.

So when the sounds of the outside ceased, and the lights in the hallway turned off, Tommy only wanted to wait a few moments more, but he held off. He waited longer, and longer, maybe an hour passed before he finally creeped from his bed, the floorboards of the house squeaking in just the slightest as the boy opened his bedroom door, taking a quick peek down the hall to make sure that no noise still came from the adult’s rooms.

A minute passed, then two, and Tommy made his move.

Sneaking down the stairs and into the kitchen caused a few creaks from the old floorboards of the house, but how could Tommy mind? He was young then, and didn’t have the experience of sneaking around, with caring who would hear him or not, he had no caution then, not like he did now.

The bottle looked angelic even in the darkness of the night, having been left out on the kitchen counter, illuminated by the moonlight seeping through the glass to pool on the counter, lighting it with rainbows and fluttering white from the bottle where it sat. They would put it away in the morning, Tommy thought, and maybe the reason they had left it out was because they wanted Tommy to have that one wish too.

Tommy picked up the bottle and unscrewed the cap. The thing was about halfway full, an amber liquid swirling at the slightest movement in Tommy’s young and weak hands.

It looked like honey, Tommy thought then, sweet liquidated honey that shone in the moonlight absorbing the sliver of the night. But when he raised the bottle and drank from it, the liquid tasted nothing like honey. It was strong, and the taste of it spilled over his tongue and slid down his throat in a warmth he had never felt before.

And he hated it.

Still there was that promise of a wish that the boy couldn’t get from his mind, so he kept drinking, the thought that wishes like his had a price to pay.

Maybe he had to drink a certain amount. He whispered into the air after each sip like he needed to say his wants allowed for them to come to be.

Yet nothing happened, and soon enough the light to the kitchen turned on, and Tommy’s eyes shot to the light switch, his little head spinning with the fastness of the motion and spinning as the bottle dropped from his hand.

His heart quickened, and he could gather no words as whoever had entered the kitchen walked closer, close enough for Tommy to see the disappointment, and feel the silence as if it were a physical thing grabbing his ribcage in both of its hands and squeezing.

That was the feeling Tommy remembered now, the feeling of being caught off guard, of feeling disappointment because he didn’t get what he expected and he hated it.

The man called in the system the next day, Tommy off in a car back to their center before the sun even rose, and before he could even say any kind of apology or goodbye to the mother.

He was looked at with pure disappointment then, and he hated to even think of it now, not because he was embarrassed or uncaring, but because they had given up on him so quickly, had let him go with no words and a hard stare that screamed an emotion Tommy had never seen before and never seen again.

Until now.

It was a moment Tommy remembered for the rest of the time in the foster system, the memory only coming up now as he and Angel held eyes with that same look as all those years before.

And Tommy couldn’t stand it.

Faster than ever, Tommy shut the door, doing anything to avoid those eyes. He went to lock it, but the movement seemed to have snapped the Angel from whatever surprise Tommy had first launched him into.

He gripped the door handle on the other side, twisting so the key could no longer slide into the lock and the two of them were stuck wrestling with the door in front of them in an effort of strength.

Luckily for Tommy, Angel was the weaker of the three villains who made up the Arctic. That was why he stuck to the skies during their heists, calling out every impending threat to be either redirected by Siren or taken down by the Blade. They worked as a well oiled machine, and it was impressive, their communication skills on par with Tommy and Dream’s.

Unluckily, however, for the boy, was the very important fact that he had not slept in the past twenty four hours and his body was past the point of exhaustion, so both he and the Angel’s strengths at the moment were matched.

Unlucky, but he had to deal with it. He could adapt, he always did in these kinds of situations, and if the Angel was down here, Tommy didn’t know what that meant for everyone else who had been upstairs.

“Theseus.” The voice crackled through the voice changer that was built into the winged being’s black mask. The word came out in a surprised kind of way, some of that shock from moments before not fully worn off quite yet. “I didn’t think they brought you to confidential places like this,” Tommy could hear the smile seeping through the door at the next words, the boy’s own teeth grinding together in both concentration on the door now sliding from his grasp and anger from the just spoken words from the villain. “You do always run your mouth in the field.”

This was bad, but Tommy had dealt with things as they came up before, this was just the same, right?

He tapped his earpiece, the familiar buzzing of the thing filling his ear as panic seeped through his veins, the door giving an inch to Angel as the man slammed his weight into the other side.

“Dream, Quackity–” His voice was strained against the effort of fighting back against the metal door, “Angel is down at my room’s level, he’s trying to break in.”

Silence crackled back to meet his ears, then laughter from the other side of the door, Tommy pushing his weight against the thing to get it closed again. The door opened into the room inwards, and with every grunted push from the man on the other side it gave another inch.

“Dream.” Tommy tried his best to keep the panic from the door sliding open further from his voice. The crack was just wide enough now and Angel stuck one of his hands in between the crack, ready to push the door open with that extra leverage.

What the f*ck was happening, and how the hell had Tommy not gotten any warning from anyone upstairs to this happening. Tommy gritted his teeth, once again throwing his weight against the door, a sickening crack resounding from Angel’s hand which was followed by a hiss of pain as the man stumbled back from the opening, taking his definitely broken hand from in between the door and the wall to cradle it against his chest.

Understanding hard as iron struck Tommy’s mind, and with one last shove he was able to get the door fully shut. He fumbled with the key Quackity had given him for only a moment, but it was only that one moment that Angel needed to regain himself.

The man was too late to the door, and Tommy got the thing shut and locked, stumbling backwards into the room behind him, his legs hitting that old desk, a feeling of hard metal digging into his thigh where he kept a lighter Sapnap always bagged for the boy to take with him.

Breaths hard and raw raked his lungs and he only gave himself a second to breathe before digging for his phone from his pocket and dialing Dream’s number.

Maybe it was just the earpiece, maybe he had just gotten a faulty one or the hundreds of feet of dirt and stone above the room were messing with the signal.

So why on earth would his phone make a difference?

The Angel began pounding on the door, false laughter in his voice as he spoke, “You forget your place hero!” The vibrations of the man’s force on the door echoed with the words, muffled by the barrier between them, “I’ll tear your eyes from your skull and eat them like the filthy bird people say I am!”

Tommy’s phone rang once, but even that noise couldn’t stop the boy from hearing the threats that spilled from Angel’s mouth like venom. “How about I break each of your bones when I get in there, that way you’ll easily see how it feels, huh? Little hero?”

He ignored the words that snaked their way into his mind like they were Siren’s own. Their curl and heat licked at his ears but he forced himself deeper into the room, letting the phone ring once again.

Did that mean it was working? The ringing echoed through his skull as if it was emptied through the pure panic of before.

“Come on, come on…” Tommy whispered into the air, the ringing continuing across the line. “Come on.” His sharp gaze dragged to the door, where not a dent had shown through Angel’s efforts to open the thing.

“Come on.”

The line clicked.

A sigh of relief caught on the edges of Tommy’s lungs.

“Dream.” The words were soft, filled with a relief no one else could give to Tommy, and yet–

“Wrong.”

It was Siren’s voice, not the voice of his mentor that echoed across the line, the one word sounding nothing short of a death sentence.

The word froze Tommy all the way down his spine and through his skin. It echoed across his mind, and the phone slipped from his hands before he could even think of a response. Before he could even process the words which had been said.

Wrongwrongwrongwrong

Of course it would be wrong, what in Tommy’s life had gone right at this point?

The boy ignored the flash of white teeth and eyes brown as fresh tilled farmland from his mind. Now was not the time to think of Wilbur, he may have been the one thing in Tommy’s life that had gone right so far but it was no time for the man to plague his mind.

He could call Wilbur, ask the man to call the police for him… but Wilbur was Wilbur, the man had torn his stitches after not telling Tommy about the injury, Tommy wouldn’t doubt it if the man decided to come here himself after a panicked call from Tommy.

Another slam on the door brought Tommy back to the present. They had stopped for a moment there, but now they were back, and louder than they had been before, filled with more force that Tommy could ever put into breaking down a door.

In the meantime, before the door was inevitably broken in, what could he do?

The thought struck him, bright and brilliant if not shadowed with the light of fear. Pogtopia, one message and they would be there in minutes, right? Make use of those funds they received from taxes and send out their fastest vehicles.

The heroes needed the help, and they needed it as soon as possible.

Yet what luck would this world give him.

The door banged again, and Tommy fumbled with his fingers, trying to grab his fallen phone with shaking limbs. Dream’s name still was etched across the screen, a haunting reminder that Siren was still there, still on the line, probably laughing at the pure panicked noises that were slipping their way through Tommy’s throat.

He didn’t have time to hang up the call.

The metal of the door which stood so solidly before bent in with one more shove, and with another the metal caved in like it was nothing more than a can beneath whatever strength was matched up against it.

Tommy could only prepare himself by sliding his knife from its sheath and bringing it up to eye level, ready to move the second he saw a clear opening.

He wasn’t going to get that chance, because it wasn’t Angel who had broken through the door with those hollow bones and weak movements of his, no.

It was the Blade.

And he looked pissed.

Instinctually, Tommy took a step backwards, now centered in the middle of that small office, so open on every side. There had only been a handful of times when Tommy had faced up against the Blade alone. They weren’t the best to fight together, and both knew it, usually avoiding each other’s swings out in the field.

Tommy was based in hand to hand combat as his only heroic power was healing. The Blade was strong, stift, and deadly. They were complete opposites from one another, and they could never fight each other and win in the way it mattered.

It was worth it to every hero to have Tommy with them on the field, that way their injuries were more accessible, more fresh and easier to heal. In the field he could also heal civilians who got caught in the middle of fights. It was an unspoken rule that he was off limits in those times of healing, times when he would usually have an encounter with the Blade as the man ran off, content with his causing of chaos for the day. Satisfied by the blood that had been spilled by his hands.

Maybe it was just pure luck on Tommy’s part that he had only needed to fight the Blade three or four times in his entire hero career.

Another step forward by the Blade, the warrior’s eyes glowing beneath that skull of a mask, a step back from Tommy. He was trying to keep up his appearance, trying to find some way to fight this man without being killed. Everyone knew the relationship between the Angel and Blade was strong. Outside of the Arctic, they were the two villains seen together most, Siren always out doing god knew what in his own time.

They worked together, a yin and yang to each other on the field, one calling out, the other striking, one shielding, and the other swinging his sword, one injured, the other taking revenge.

And Tommy had broken Angel’s hand.

It didn’t take a genius to know that Blade was about to strike back with a thousand times more force in order to pay Tommy back for injuring Angel in the way he had.

“Theseus.” The voice was hard yet quiet in the most dangerous way. The Blade was a wolf sneaking up on its prey, only giving the creature the slightest of growls in warning before he struck. Tommy couldn’t help the low keening noise that escaped his throat at the dangerous tone, imperceptible to anyone but him. The Blade smiled at the noise as if it was a proclamation of his victory already.

“Blade.” Tommy responded, his voice changer bringing a more evenness to his tone that he knew wouldn’t have come out like that should he have been speaking normally.

The villain tilted his head to one side, ever the predator. Tommy caught the briefest glimpse of green from behind the Blade, a sure sign that the Angel was behind him, watching and waiting for his own opportunity to strike.

This was a two versus one between Tommy and two thirds of the Arctic. It was more than he had ever taken on before, but what could he do?

He clenched his teeth, digging his shoes into the carpet below him as the Blade took one more step forward. He refused to give another inch to the man, not when the file cabinets were right behind him, guarded fully by the boy’s small form but still guarded. Blade, however, was not looking at the file cabinets, those blood red eyes Tommy had seen so many times before filled with a hatred Tommy could feel seeping through the air like tea in boiling water.

“Have you ever broken a bone Theseus?” The question was light, too light for the words they were accompanied by. Tommy didn’t answer, Keeping his knife up, ready for any sudden movement from the Blade to make his own move. The man didn’t seem to really care for an answer because he went on without much of a wait. “You wouldn’t know the pain of it, would you.” A smile and the man’s too white teeth reflected the harsh light of the room, “You’re a healer! Any broken bone you could have would be healed in moments, so surely you wouldn’t understand the kind of pain that comes from a broken arm, or a broken leg, or maybe an area of the body that has more bones, all concentrated together in one area, like your foot or your hand.” It was beginning to hit Tommy just how alone the three of them were in the basem*nt of this building, all of his support unavailable or dead given that the Arctic was here, two of them having been able to make it this far down into the building.

Tommy paled.

It was just him left.

And he was alone in a room hundreds of feet below the surface of the world in a small space with just Angel and Blade as his company.

He was alone.

“Theseus.” Tommy shifted back at the name, wondering what on earth his best course of action could be now. Pogtopia surely wasn’t coming, it was too early in the morning for any of Quackity’s workers to be coming in for work so how could they help? Any security that patrolled this place had to be gone or taken out given the presence of the Arctic all the way down here, so secluded from anyone, from anything. The Blade lifted his chin, those red eyes staring down the white expanse of skull of the man’s mask. “Here’s what’s going to happen.” The words were solid ice in a blizzard, steady and still so much cold and hatred held within them. “I am going to break your hands, the same way you broke the Angel’s here, but I’m going to do it much slower.” A smile stretched across the man’s face as he peered down at Tommy with those blood red eyes. “And you’re going to feel every second of pain that I give to you.”

Like hell he was going to do that.

“Like hell you’re gonna do that.” Tommy sneered below his mask, “I’ll have you out on the floor before you can make a move like that on me.” A bluff, a gross gross bluff, and they both knew it, but Tommy struck anyway, needed to do something, anything because there was nothing else he could do, he was like a trapped animal, and sitting by idly was the same as death with the Arctic here in front of him.

He got one sickening cut on the Blade’s arm before the man was able to catch Tommy by the throat, the only thing slipping past his lips being a surprised gasp that quickly turned into a grunt as the man slammed Tommy into the file cabinets behind them so hard a few of the drawers flew open at the action.

At least I was able to get one good hit on the Blade, was the only thought on Tommy’s mind that was able to slip through the barriers of shock.

Then the pain of the hit hit Tommy, his back arching as a hiss escaped from through his teeth.

Before he knew it he was on the ground, Blade's knee pressing down against his chest to pin him down to the floor.

“You forget yourself Theseus.” The Blade hissed, pressing his knee further down into Tommy’s chest. The Blade did not relent the pressure with time, and instead grabbed at Tommy’s side, yanking his arm up between them, blood dripping down his own limb before splattering onto Tommy’s suit like it was just paint.

Pure, cold fear twisted through Tommy’s veins, and he squirmed under the knee that pressed him to the floor, trying everything, every method Sapnap or Dream had ever taught him to escape this kind of entrapment, and yet still nothing worked, even as he pushed at the older man’s chest with his free arm in an attempt to shove him from where he knelt.

“I don’t think you realize, Theseus,” The Blade drawled again, amusem*nt seeping into his tone like Tommy’s struggles fascinated him. That was enough to turn Tommy’s blood stale and sluggish in his mind, adrenaline overpowering any other feeling throughout his body. “Everyone in this building is incapable of coming to help you.” Fangs slowly revealed themselves as the Blade leaned down further, smile widening and grip tightening around the boy’s arm like he was nothing more than a ragdoll. “You’ve been abandoned, and I’m going to take my time giving you back what you deserve, because I have all the time in the world to get what I want.” His voice lowered yet again, the man’s words fresh and cool from his lips past Tommy’s ears, “Because no one knows we’re here, and nobody is coming to save you, healer.”

The Blade pulled back, though his grip didn’t relent. It tightened and tightened, and Tommy refused to call for help, to tell him to stop. He would find a way out of this, he always did. The pressure around his arm increased and he gritted his teeth together, trying with all of his strength and all of his skills to rip his arm from the Blade’s grasp, all he needed to do was–

A wet crack sounded throughout the room, and Tommy couldn’t help the gutteral noise of pain that bubbled from his throat. The Blade had broken one of his arm bones, and Tommy pulled back one more time at the shock of burning pain that spread through his arm up his shoulder and into his mind, the tug of his arm sending more white hot pain down each one of his nerves until he questioned if he was actually on fire.

His body began to heal itself and Tommy struggled under the weight of the Blade punching at the man’s chest with his free arm, knowing if the man kept that grip on his arm, the bone wouldn’t heal itself properly. Tears of pain slipped from his eyes, and he couldn’t contain the scream that ripped itself raw from his throat when another disgusting crack resounded throughout the room, a sure sign that the second bone in Tommy’s forearm had broken

The man still didn’t relent his grip, in fact, the hold he had on Tommy’s arm seemed to be getting tighter still. His broken bones groaning beneath the superhuman grip of the Blade. Tommy ground his teeth together, still struggling to get his arm free of the man’s grasp despite the pain of his broken bones against each other and the insides of his arm.

Before he knew it his goodman ulna would be breaking through the skin of his arm and tearing the fabric of his suit.

And still, because that was the one flaw with his powers, his body kept healing.

Angel spoke then, the words piercing the silence of the room, the fight between Tommy and the Blade shuddering at the noise that snuck between their grunts of force.

“One, one, one, six.” The man stated, the words shuddering the fight between Blade and Tommy, the Blade distracted for only a second at the Angel’s words, but that was all Tommy needed.

The boy swung at the Blade’s face with his free hand, the man startling back at the sudden hit, giving Tommy enough room and time to roll out from under the man. He didn’t strike to hurt, how could he ever dream of hurting the Blade, even if it were in the littlest way. No, he struck as a distraction, and that distraction was all he needed.

Rolling to his feet, and slipping past Angel who stood in shock in the doorway of the file room. He needed to act fast, he needed to figure out a way to keep the Arctic from leaving with what they wanted, and what they wanted was most definitely in that room.

There was only one solution that was able to make its way into Tommy’s mind, adrenaline pouring through his veins like he was born for it. Digging through the pockets of his hoodie and suit, cold metal brushed against Tommy’s knuckles. Two seconds later Tommy was tossing that fired up lighter towards one of the drawers that had slid open when the Blade shoved him against them, praying that his aim was good enough for at least this.

The lighter clinked against the side of the drawer, three pairs of eyes on the thing as it hit, turned, and finally fell into the drawer, setting the dry files alight quicker than any of the three of them could comprehend.

If Tommy wanted anything to come from this mission of his, he wanted it to be an unsuccessful run for the Arctic. Even if that meant his broken arm from the Blade was now fully healed at the completely wrong angle, even if that meant that the Angel and the Blade were now looking at him with so much shock and hate in their eyes, even if that meant each and every one of the files in that goddamn room burning to a crisp, because it was better they be destroyed than in possession of these murderers.

Tommy ran down the hallway, barely sparing a glance behind him for the villains that were no doubt moments away from tackling him to the ground and killing him just for the inconvenience he had caused them. Siren had said once that he would rather Theseus be dead than have to deal with the hero for one more moment, so it wouldn’t have surprised Tommy if either other member of the Arctic wanted the same.

It would be very like them to gut him like a fish for what he had done to their mission.

And yet there was no thump of feet that followed close behind him down the hall, no shouts of rage, no sounds of swords being drawn from their sheaths.

Tommy was smart though, he knew even if he didn’t hear it, that didn’t mean they weren’t there so he kept up his pace. The elevator at the end of the hallway was sneaking closer and closer through Tommy’s pain and ragged breaths, that adrenaline still spiking through his blood.

A single glance behind him told him that neither the Angel or Blade were following close behind, instead dealing with that ever growing fire as if they could save whatever files they needed, whatever files they wanted for their causing of chaos.

He was not important to them in the long run, Tommy realized, they would rather complete their mission than stop the person who had caused all their trouble. A kind of smile slipped across Tommy’s face behind the mask at the thought, at the knowledge that even if he didn’t make it out of here, he had still won.

Tommy was close to the elevator now, not even ten feet away.

Because this meant the second he reached the surface of the complex, that crushing weight of the small rooms around him fled from his chest as a bird taking flight, he would call for Pogtopia, get back up and finish his job. Then he could go home and sleep, he could wake up in time to watch as the sun set beyond the horizon, he could have his own peace for a moment knowing that the Arctic was caught and he–

The elevator doors began to open.

Tommy’s heart sank to his stomach.

But he was too close, and he tried to stop, momentum pulling him forward a few more steps where it was Siren who caught the boy’s wrists in his hands, only sparing a second to look at the twistedness of Tommy’s broken and sh*ttily rehealed arm.

But all the man needed was a moment, before he looked up, that black veil hiding everything from Tommy.

“Sleep.” The words were soft, pure, a song in Tommy’s ears and nothing like anything Siren had ever said to him before.

Tommy’s mind willingly gave into the word, and he fell forward, slipping into Siren’s awaiting arms just as he had done the night Tommy saved his life.

He slept.

Chapter 17: These things need to stop

Chapter Text

They had planned out everything before their mission.

From the way they would get into the building to the words they would speak down to each of the steps they would take in order to get in unnoticed.

And Quackity never expected what was coming.

Quick and precise, that’s what they were. All they needed to do was get into the front office of the building without tripping any alarms, and they had. They were too quiet, no one saw it coming.

The mission relied on Wilbur’s voice and oh did he give it his all.

“Sleep.” He had said into the intercom, his companions sitting behind him, soundproofing within their suits turned on against the words. And they had all slept.

“Where’s the vault, Quackity.” The words were sweet with his power and sharp with the demand behind them. And Quackity, through his fitful sleep had told them, leaving Angel to go off on his own way to go and grab what they needed.

How had they not expected this? How had they prepared for everything but the sound of Wilbur’s voice. It was laughable, really.

Techno was wandering, getting his own intel, stepping from room to room with those graceful movements, passing by passed out workers who for whatever reason were still there as they arrived.

Wilbur guessed it made sense. He was wandering the complex, waiting for Phil to get what they needed, tying up any heroes who may wake before it was their time to go. The heroes and Schlatt had probably thought they were finally one step ahead of them, one step ahead of the Arctic. But the Arctic was always ready, always careful, and never without caution lining their steps.

Being here now, Wilbur was relieved. Tommy wasn’t here, he had checked, even told his father and brother to keep an eye out for the little gremlin, keeping his mouth shut because he still didn’t want to explain to them why he owed the boy everything.

Wilbur was selfish, he knew that, and he wanted Theseus all to himself even when no one, including himself had wanted to boy before. Because Tommy was just so interesting.

So like Wilbur.

The silence of the compound was broken by a sharp noise. Wilbur wasn’t able to identify what it was until the second ring as the default soude of a phone’s chime, and by the third ring he had pinpointed where the sound was coming from.

Wilbur leaned over Dream’s tied form, the man still asleep from his words, and frowned, his head tilting to the side. Wilbur huffed, and began searching Dream’s passed out body for the source of the noise. It was early in the morning, the perfect time to have raided the complex, and they had been here for what, an hour or two? Shifting through each and every one of the president’s things as if they were their own. They hadn’t got what they needed just yet, that’s what Phil was looking for, but they wanted all the things they ended up getting from throughout the complex.

Dream, asleep in form, looked pitiful. If it weren’t for those stupid rules of honor between heroes, villians, and viginantes, Wilbur would have taken the man’s mask right from his face already, look into the face of the one person Tommy must have held so much more dear to him than Wilbur ever could be.

They again, if it weren’t for those very same rules, Wilbur probably wouldn’t be here right now.

He probably would have been found in that basem*nt, veil torn from his face, Theseus, the young hero spilling to everyone in Pogtopia about who Wilbur was and what he looked like.

If it weren’t for those rules, Wilbur didn’t know if he would have made it out of that basem*nt alive.

He didn’t know if he would want to be.

Gritting his teeth together from behind that veil, Wilbur dug with force for Dream’s phone from inside his dark green coat pocket.

The man blinked once, then twice, before deciding once and for all that it was that god who was haunting him with this boy, because on the screen in bright white letters, was Theseus.

Because of course it would be.

Wilbur answered, and the panicked voice of someone so familiar and yet so not fluttered across the line.

“Dream.” The boy said, the name was a prayer answered on his lips, and what could Wilbur be if not jealous.

So he let a smile twist across his features, let the line go silent for one haunting moment before responding, venom dripping from his mouth like his words of honey.

“Wrong.”

Of course, of course Tommy would be here. That young boy who had Wilbur snared within his grasp, who had him caught with those pitiful eyes and little sleep. That boy whose nightmares and scars haunted him with each and every one of his waking steps like a parasite sucking the energy that should be so prominent in that sixteen year old’s mind.

There was a gasp across the line, crackling with both the phone and the voice changer that the boy always wore as Theseus, before the phone thumped, and all Wilbur could hear was a banging twinge like nails on a chalkboard from across the line.

“Where are you, Theseus?” Wilbur asked, hoping with all his life that he could still be heard down the line, that smile of his reeking with a pride he shouldn’t have with a sense that he had won though he had done nothing.

And yet there was no answer, just a shuffle of footsteps that reached the microphone on the other side, a silence then–

“Theseus.”

Blade. That was Blade who had just spoken there, the name a threat on his tongue, a threat that Wilbur didn’t want to hear anywhere near Theseus, anywhere near Tommy.

But hadn’t Techno just been up here?

Wilbur’s eyes chased the scenes of the building around him, across the brown and black carpets and the clean walls of an office building, finding that asides from all the people passed out at their desks or on the floor, Wilbur was completely and utterly alone.

“Blade.” The name pulled Wilbur out of his shock and into a new kind of state of panic. Wilbur had known Tommy enough, cut the boy open and learned all of his secrets to the point where he could feel the panic, the pure fear in the boy’s tone though his words were as even as he could make them through that voice changer of his.

He had asked Phil and Techno to look for the boy for him, giving no details as to why he needed the little gremlin. As far as he knew, Techno and Phil took that as a kill him on sight kind of request.

Bile rose in Wilbur’s throat, the man keeping the phone pressed against his ear as Blade spoke, because it could never be Techno saying these words, no this was the Blood God the world knew his brother as.

“Have you ever broken a bone Theseus?” The words came crisp and clear across the line, and Wilbur felt his stomach drop.

“Stop!” He shouted into the phone, trying for his little voice to be heard through the words Techno was continuing to speak, each one worse than the last. “Blade, stop it now!”

Panic clung fresh to his chest, as the words continued, not even a pause at the shouts Wilbur hurled across the line. Had the phone been muted on their side after it was dropped? Or was he really that quiet?

Lifting his eyes from the screen of the phone Wilbur frantically looked around the building for something, anything, any indicator of where Techno might have gone, of where Tommy was now.

The next words that stumbled across the line wrapped themselves across Wilbur’s brain and branded them onto the inside of his skull, and even Wilbur’s blood ran cold at the the sound of the lines, fear wrapping across his chest, unrelenting in its grip. “I am going to break your hands, the same way you broke the Angel’s here, but I’m going to do it much slower.” They gripped at his stomach and pulled, tearing his muscle from his organs like a knife through a steak.

Then it hit him, Blade was with Angel. Wilbur fumbled with his own phone, a single reach for his own earpiece telling him he had left it behind for the mission, thinking the thing would mess with his abilities in the field if he wasn’t able to concentrate one hundred percent on his words of power. He began searching in Phil’s contact, Dream’s phone still placed in between his ear and shoulder. His hands shook, and he didn’t let himself process the next words that were soaking from Blade’s mouth with so much hatred, “And you’re going to feel every second of pain that I give to you.”

“f*ck,” Wilbur whispered to himself the sound echoing through his mind and across the empty walls of the building, “f*ck f*ck f*ckf*ckf*ckf*ckf*ckf*ck” He lifted his eyes from his phone briefly, gaze darting across the first floor of the building, needing more than anything to find out where Techno had gone, where on earth Tommy could be.

The Elevator.

Angel had gone to find the vault which was hidden in a secret passage somewhere you had to get in via the elevator, right?

The sound of a fight broke out across the line, a grunt, a bang and then hard hard breaths. Wilbur ran to the elevator clicking that little down button which lit up happily at its use, such a contrast to the panic that soared through Wilbur’s veins at the sounds of the fight across the line.

Harsh breaths ripped themselves from Wilbur’s lungs, and he hated that small part of him that whispered in the back of his skull that he would be doing the same thing the Blade was if he hadn’t learned all he had about Theseus, about Tommy.

Wilbur slid Dream’s phone in his pocket, pulling out his own with shaking hands, searching for the code, because surely one of them had sent it, surely one of them remembered. Surely Tommy would be safe.

“One, one, one, nine.” Wilbur whispered to himself the numbers shaky as they slid from his tongue into the stale air of the elevator, the doors closing in front of him in a hauntingly slow movement. His fingers shook as he pressed in the numbers, and after pressing the nine the elevator did nothing, just sitting there tauntingly. “Come on…” The air clung to the dusty words like they were as old as the building around them. He typed the numbers in again, hoping with all the life Theseus had returned to him that he had just pressed them wrong.

Sound penetrated the silence of the elevator, Wilbur’s panic turning to straight filthy numbness as from his pocket a noise of pain loud and unholy gurgled itself into the air. If Wilbur said that had been anything but Tommy he would be lying.

Before he knew it his phone was up to his ear, the line ringing for Phil who picked up almost immediately. “Phil, what’s the passcode for the elevator.” The words came even and almost monotone from Wilbur’s mouth. A guttural scream so raw and gravely Wilbur’s own throat hurt at the noise echoes across both the phone he held against his ear and the phone in his pocket. It was so loud and sharp and raw and hurtful and all around and so full of pain.

“The code Phil, the code!” Wilbur shouted, harsh breathing echoing across the line Wilbur couldn’t tell if it was his own or that of another.

“Jesus!, One, one, one, six!” The words came crackled across the line and Wilbur didn’t waste a single second, typing in the numbers as fast as his hands would allow him to, past the shaking that had resumed throughout his body, that scream still echoing throughout the chambers of his mind, because was this all his fault?

He should have told them, he really should have told them what had happened, how Theseus, how Tommy had saved his life despite everything between them in that moment, he should have said something.

Wilbur didn’t have the time to think, as the elevator moved, seconds taking too long to pass until finally the moving that had begun under his feet stopped and the elevator doors slid open.

And who was there just in front of the elevator.

But Theseus.

It was Tommy, covered in blood that didn’t look like it had come from him. He tried to slow, a gasp on his breath and panic in each of his movements.

And Wilbur caught him by the wrists. The boy was too fast to slow down himself and yet too full of fear to do any help to himself or anyone right now. There was a glimmer to his eyes behind those goggles he wore, a shock that came with seeing Wilbur, Siren, right in front of him.

Wilbur looked down, eyes catching on Theseus’s arm, angled in such a disgusting way the man had to keep the bile that rose in his throat at the sight down. It was disgustingly at the wrong angle, so much so that Wilbur forced his eyes away from his black claw tipped fingers wrapped around the boy’s wrists so he could look past the veil into his eyes.

Tommy’s gaze behind the goggles looked fuzzy, unfocused, however it was exactly how Wilbur would have expected it to be if his arm had just been broken, if he were in the kind of pain he had to be now.

Swallowing the apologies on his tongue and the guilt that coated his mouth, Wilbur whispered to the boy in front of him, the words the softest things he had ever spoken aloud to him in this part of their lives.

“Sleep.”

And he did.

Theseus’s head dropped, eyes falling closed and body falling forward into Wilbur’s arms like they were the only safe space for miles, though if Tommy was awake, Wilbur didn’t think that he would say the same.

Wilbur’s own eyes fluttered, and he gave the boy a light squeeze before lowering himself and Tommy down onto that ugly brown and black patterned carpet that was in all of the president’s buildings. He swiped Tommy’s hair back, and checked his pulse, keeping his eyes on the resting form of his savior. He couldn’t help but look back down to that arm, broken seconds ago sure, but now healed, as it was Theseus’ curse.

And it did not look good.

It was twisted, at all the wrong angles. It looked like both the bones of his forearms had been broken in relatively the same places, though not so much to have healed at the same angle together. It was harsh and disgusting, and the bones bent the skin of his arm in a way that skin should never be bent. Wilbur had to force himself to look away.

He was lucky. He knew he was lucky, and having Tommy here in front of him as Theseus, a hero that no doubt hated Wilbur to his core yet not enough to let him die cold and alone in the basem*nt of a building.

Looking at Tommy now, Wilbur wondered how he had never seen it before. Even in the suit and hoodie Tommy’s form was lanky and long, the signs of a boy not yet grown into his bones. The way he spoke and walked and talked and even moved was in the way of someone young.

The way he looked into Wilbur’s eyes for approval at the slightest movement, the way he struck with his knife on the field, trusting his movements more than his weight because he was still just a kid.

He was stupid. He had to be stupid to have not seen the signs, to have continued to carve the boy apart like Tommy was his own personal pumpkin on Halloween.

How could he ever make it up to the boy now?

Surely he couldn’t as Siren.

Maybe he could as Wilbur.

The edges of shoes came into Wilbur’s vision and red shadowed his sight.

“You caught him.” Techno’s voice was monotone, even. It was like he hadn’t just tortured a kid for defending himself.

Then again, hadn’t Wilbur done the same things? Guilt clawed at his chest for that, the feeling was barbed wire around his wildly beating heart.

Silence settled between the two, Techno taking a knee next to Wilbur where he sat with Theseus cradled on his lap. Wilbur fought the urge to pull Tommy’s limp body out of reach of Techno.

“We should leave soon.” Techno’s voice cut through the dusty air of the underground hallway, his head turning back to the room behind him which Wilbur was just noticing, was on fire. He couldn’t pull himself to care for the fire and their surely lost mission over Tommy. Not now.

The pain of abandonment ground at his chest, the wave of death coming and fading away like waves of the ocean on the shore, dragging along any care Wilbur might have with it. Flashes of a war fought so long ago dragged across his bones and down his spine.

He felt decayed and dead again and his eyes snapped to Techno as he lowered the boy down to the floor, standing from his sitting position while still keeping one eye on Theseus as if any second he would wake and run away.

“The files?” Wilbur asked, an edge to his tone that could have come from a thousand different things.

Techno stood from his own kneeling position, eyes drifting down the hallway to the flickering fire that had been that secret room. “They’re charred.” He stated, looking back to Wilbur, “Written in a kind of code we’ve never seen before. It’ll be hard to figure out, and Angel doesn’t know if we’ll be able to decode it before our time is up and the files are useless to us.”

Wilbur’s eyes never left Tommy. The steady rise and fall of his chest chased his thoughts around his brain like it was an ever increasing beat of a drum in the night, vision tinged further and further with the red of blood at every strike and noise that echoed through your mind like it was empty and thoughtless and so, so demanding.

“We could take him.” Techno offered, the words steady, straight, catching Wilbur’s attention despite the only thought in the man’s mind of a scream so raw and painful you could still feel its sting throughout your skin. A scream so heartbreaking you would do anything to promise that he would never feel that pain again, and keep that promise no matter how impossible it may have seemed “I doubt we’ll be able to find the code on our own, and since he’s right here he may just be our best choice for the success of this mission.”

There was a burning in the back of Wilbur’s skull at Techno’s voice, and his lips drew into a thin line, his teeth digging into his tongue, because who was Techno to make that offer. “Techno, you just tortured him by breaking his arms, we are not taking him with us.” The words were slick with disbelief as they were muttered through his lips. “I doubt he would tell us anything, not after what you did.”

Techno’s head tilted to the side, an unreadable expression on his face. “You’ve done the same before, Siren,” the name was a hiss throughout the air, a reminder of where they were, what words they needed to refrain from using against the stone walls of this buried complex. Techno still continued “If not worse, why do you think he wouldn’t spill things? He is talkative for a hero.”

“Because, Techno, he—” Wilbur cut himself off, eyes glittering back to Tommy, asleep soundly on the floor, probably the best sleep the boy had had in months.

Wilbur had never felt this amount of hate for his brother before, with teeth digging into his cheek, drawing blood and a look to him that screamed unease. They would not be bringing Tommy with them, they would not. Wilbur owed Theseus that at least, and he owed Tommy so much more.

“Boys.” The word was firm, yet not harsh, catching both Techno and Will’s eyes from down the hallway. “Techno is right here, I think.” Phil’s wings stretched the black of the feathers hiding the flame from sight as his eyes were directed sharply towards the other two. “Siren can try and get the code from him when we get back, but as of now we need to leave, there isn’t much oxygen supply all the way down here because of that fire, and if we argue whatever this is out that fire is going to be the end of us. We couldn’t leave Theseus even if we wanted to, he’d die to the fire before anything, and taking him is in our best interest if we want to solve this code any time soon” He tilted his head forward, eyes hidden in the shadow of his black bucket hat. He slid a file full of papers burnt at the edges under his arm, co*cking his head to the side as he gave the boy sleeping on the floor a terrifying look, even up to Wilbur’s standards. “And I wouldn’t mind paying back a broken bone or two.”

A hiss escaped through Wilbur’s teeth at that, drawing the attention of both the men around him. He slowly picked Tommy from the ground, making sure to rest the boy’s head against his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around his back and heaved him up with another arm beneath his knees. “We won’t be doing anything like that, we’ll bring him up into the main building so he lives, and that’s it.” The words came sharp from his tongue and a white hot feeling plunged deep into Wilbur’s heart. Techno and Phil both frowned, Phil taking a step towards Wilbur, confusion stark against his features.

“Don't touch him.”

They sounded guttural in the air, those words, and it wasn’t warning or anger that coated them, they were drenched in a deep and heartbreaking fear.

Fear both Phil and Techno could smell in the air, clinging onto it immediately with softened gazes and shared looks of interest.

“We’ll cover that later.” Techno mumbled, taking a cautious step towards Wilbur who still gripped Tommy close to his chest, just about bearing his teeth under his veil like some kind of threatened animal. “For now we need to go. Wilbur…” The meeting of eyes, that flash of red was the only visible thing across Techno’s face below those white bone eyes of a mask. His lips pressed together, the thoughts in his mind taking a physical form across his features. He let himself sigh, breaking those red eyes from Wilbur, “We’ll cover it later, let’s just–get out of here.”

***

The ride in the elevator up was quiet. Wilbur gripped Tommy tightly, trying his best to ignore that oddly shaped arm that rested across the boy’s stomach, knowing that someone would need to re-break the thing before he was able to heal it properly.

Techno and Phil kept their distance, as much as they could in the small elevator. Either the words Wilbur had hissed at them below were taking their effect, or they were respecting his space. Knowing them, they were probably respecting Wilbur’s space, keeping their eyes trained on the doors.

He wouldn’t comment on it.

Ever so slowly, the silence itching between them and creeping across their skin like a hungry spider, the elevator came to a stop, the doors creeping open at a painfully slow speed, the movement grating on Wilbur’s bones.

But not enough for his instincts to not take over when the strict sound of shouting echoed throughout the complex walls as all the residents beyond should have been sleeping on due to Wilbur’s quiet words.

Thankfully, they hadn’t been found out. Their exit from the elevator went unnoticed, but still, there were more people in the building now than there had been before.

It must have been the start of a workday then.

People in normal office clothes shuffled throughout the hallways, leaning over their waking coworkers, shouts throughout the air of everyone questioning what had happened, on what they could do.

That was the Arctic’s cue to leave.

All threats of heroes were still gone, they had tied them up in their sleep, and it would still be a while longer before they woke from Wilbur’s words. However, if there was one organization worse than the heroes in the way crimes were dealt with, it was the police.

And it wasn’t in Wilbur’s luck to go on unnoticed by the police as well, not after they were called to one of the president’s buildings by a civilian or two to stop a villain heist as the last line of defense.

“Stop!” The voice was loud, echoing throughout those dim hallways of the complex, and it was those words that directed all eyes towards them, the Arctic, standing in the doorway of an elevator like they were just stepping out for their morning coffee. A hero draped in the arms of the one the media referred to as said hero’s greatest enemy.

And the police officer drew his rifle, no care for anyone in between him and the Arctic. Anyone including Theseus, asleep in Siren’s arms like he had always been meant to be there.

And the officer fired.

Wilbur couldn’t move fast enough, but he was never the one meant to move like that. The bullet struck Wilbur’s back, because if anyone was going to get hit it would be him, not Tommy.

Never Tommy.

Phil and Techno moved, Phil catching Wilbur and Theseus in his arms before they hit the floor. The officer couldn’t get out another cry of help before it was his head rolling on the floor, Blade not even sparing the cranium a glance before clearing the way for Phil and Wilbur, the red in his eyes glowing as blood in sunlight.

One officer down, then another, then a worker, then another officer. Anyone who was in their way, Blade cut, cries through bloody throats and sharp screams of pain echoing throughout the air.

And soon enough they were out, Phil carrying Theseus and Blade helping Wilbur stay on his feet.

The sound of sirens filled their ears, but they were already gone without a trace, clambering into their old minivan, because who would suspect a minivan driven by L’manberg’s worst villains?

Wilbur turned his eyes to Tommy, asleep in the backseat next to him, arm twisted, and features even and calm as he slept.

He didn’t want this, didn’t want Tommy caught up in the business of the Arctic. He had Dream back at the hero complex, and the man was far from willing to let Tommy go. But so was Wilbur.

The time had seemed to flash by from the moment they slipped from the elevator in that old building, but Wilbur kept himself awake, though his loss of blood against the back of his seat was beginning to cloud his mind, and he needed to say something before unconsciousness whisked him off into the realms of nothing.

The car was moving, Techno and Phil discussing whatever it was they needed to discuss in the front of the car, voices low and serious in the stuffy air of the old car.

“Techno.” The name was hoarse, but firm and the muttering from his brother stopped abruptly, a sure sign he was listening. “Take care of Theseus,” His next coughing was the only sound in the whole of the car. “I owe him my life.”

And unconsciousness took him as well, arm stretched across the car so he could rest his hand on Tommy’s.

Chapter 18: Healing is too hard

Chapter Text

When Tommy first woke he was alone.

A light ticking chased him from his nightmares, and a cold metal stung against ankles.

He didn’t want to acknowledge the things that had happened last night, didn’t want to remember the cracking pain of breaking bones, the knowledge that death was so close to him as Blade sunk his knee into his chest. His vision had gone blurry then, he hoped it wasn’t still now.

All it took was a light tug of his left hand for Tommy to know that whatever metal confined his feet confined his wrists as well. With a tug on his right arm, bile rose in Tommy’s throat, the sheer mind numbing pain of the movement near enough to make him vomit off the side of where he lay.

He gagged on the air that entered his lungs like it was a solid thing. His arm was still unhealed. Well, unhealed in the way that mattered. It felt like he could feel the nerves in his bones with every movement, feel the roughness of the bone grinding against his muscles, against his skin.

And it hurt.

Tommy sucked in a breath, ignoring the shakiness that crumbled throughout it. His eyes stung, Tommy bit his bottom lip, the pain of his arm ebbing away with each passing second as he let it still, let it sit.

Rebreaking the bone was going to hurt, and Tommy had no idea how he was going to break it.

By the looks of it, he was not home. How could he be? The room was white around him, plain and boring and simple, it reminded Tommy of a hospital room. His mask was still secured across his face, so that meant he was still in a position where he needed it on. The last thing he remembered was pain, sharp and bright and make it stopstopstopstop.

Then what?

Fire, a burst of warmth in the cold of an underground complex. It was cold here too, Tommy held back the shiver that crawled up his spine and into his skull, wishing more than anything for his arm to lay undisturbed at his side until he absolutely needed to move.

And then?

Siren. In all of his being, so different than he normally was. Soft words, no laughter behind his voice, a twinge of panic through that metallic voice changer that adorned his throat. Who had that even been? Tommy doubted it could have been Siren, not with the worry, not with the soft word that dragged him into a bliss, not even the looks he passed over Tommy through the slightest movements of his head, that veil shadowing any emotion that Tommy could bounce off of.

Any thought Tommy could understand.

He had to be there then. Siren told him to sleep and he had, because no mind stood a chance against Siren’s words, not even Tommy’s.

He was nowhere that he recognized, and the metal around his wrists and ankles was enough to tell him just whose “protection” he was under. Under whose roof he stayed.

He didn’t want this, the boy thought with a sigh, pressing his eyelids tightly together like by giving them enough pressure he would be teleported back to his home in Pogtopia. He wanted to sleep. He wanted to wake up back at Dream’s place, arm unbothered and life calm, perfect. Dream worrying as he always did, turning on the news as he cooked, just letting Tommy relax for once.

“Some afternoons I just have to make you be a kid.” The words often echoed throughout Tommy’s skull, “You’ll never do it yourself, so I’ll make you.”

How long ago had that been now? A year? Two? Long enough for Tommy to have pushed the words aside for greater things, for bigger accomplishments, more important jobs.

Wilbur would probably say the same, Tommy thought. The man was always one to remind Tommy of his youth, to elbow the boy with a smile on his face and that possessive gaze of someone who had just found a stray cat out in the streets just to decide to bring it home with the smallest act of dependence from the thing.

Tommy wished he were there now with Wilbur, seeing his house, exploring and wandering and finding out everything there was to know about Wilbur because he was Tommy’s.

But no.

He was here.

His arm was broken.

And there was no one to rely on but himself.

***

The second time Tommy woke it was to the scraping of heavy metal across the floor.

The noise was loud and jarring, enough for Tommy’s body to jerk at the sound, arm burning at the sudden movement. His eyes snapped to the source of the noise: the door of the room.

The door opened inward, leaving no space for Tommy to see the room beyond, or even where he might be.

All he knew was he still might be stories and stories underground. There was no window in the room. Just the bed where Tommy lay, a square table that took up one corner of the room, a single chair, a small door that led to a separate room, presumably a bathroom, and a mirror.

A two way mirror.

Tommy couldn't help but notch his head to the side from the loud sound of the entry door opening. Brown boots tipped their way around the corner of the metal, then black pants, and then a red cape. Finally the white skull and braided hair came into view, the piercing gaze held behind the white of the bone looking more and more brown and less red by every second.

It wasn’t a relief.

“Blade.” The word came crackling through Tommy’s voice changer where it still sat in his mask, clinging to his face. “What a surprise to see you here.” Tommy let his head roll so he was looking at the ceiling once again, closing his eyes. “Come to finish your job?”

Maybe a knife to the heart would stop Tommy from focusing so heavily on the pain that burned through the bones of his arm. Tommy had seen the Blade’s work before, as much as Dream had tried to hide it from him in moments of pure heartbreak and weakness. Maybe Tommy’s blood would look abstract like a painting across these white sheets.

Maybe he could bring himself to not fear death with the knowledge that his blood would be made out to be a painting of red on white.

And yet the Blade didn’t say a word. From the corner of his vision Tommy could see the man tilt his head to the side, watching him, calculating.

Finally he moved, going for the only chair in the room as opposed to Tommy’s bed. The boy couldn’t help the deep breath that escaped from his lungs at the Blade’s movement away from him. He hadn’t even known he was holding it in.

The metal door slid shut, a light scraping noise and a heavy echoing bang resounding throughout the cold, quiet room. Tommy couldn’t help but flinch at the noise, though he kept himself still, refusing to show any weakness, even here where he could never dream of having power.

The echo of the door faded, and Tommy closed his eyes, waiting for the moment where Blade would strike. The moment this painful nightmare would come to an end. That was, if Tommy’s body even let him die.

“I’m not here to hurt you.” The Blade said, catching Tommy’s fading attention enough for him to look up towards the other man. “You saved Siren’s life.” He continued, the words a physical blow to Tommy’s still beating heart.

He let the shock pass by him, huffing at the phrase. Of course he knew, surely he was using the words as a way to unhinge Tommy from his last semblance of clear thinking.

“A lot of good that did for me.” Tommy replied, turning his head to the wall. But who was he to say such a thing if the harshness of his words were not conveyed in his tone. He couldn’t get his voice to mean the words that spilled from his lips, the Blade seemed to notice as well.

“He owes you.” The man finally said after a long moment of silence, “So I owe you.”

The words brought a laugh bubbling to the surface of Tommy’s chest and it leapt into the air with all the energy of a dying horse. “You sure showed me that, didn't you?” He said, risking the pain of his arm to rattle around the metal that cuffed his wrist. His arm burned at the movement and Tommy bit back the urge to flinch, gently lowering his arm back onto the mattress.

The movement seemed to get the message across however, and Blade shifted in his seat, his mouth pressing into a thin line. “You saved his life once and he didn’t tell us until yesterday.” The smugness Tommy felt at his previous words dropped from him and it was like stones were packing into his stomach, physically dragging him down into the mattress. Surely they had known before, surely. “We–I need that from you again.” And the Blade stuttered, like he had never faltered in speech before, and if that wasn’t pain edging on desperation clawing at his voice, Tommy didn’t know what it was.

But now he had power because Siren was, Siren had–

“What happened?” The question escaped Tommy’s lips before he could think them over. His work routines were sinking in at the knowledge he had something to do, even if it was requested by the people Tommy hated the most. Tommy was able to right himself almost immediately. “I can heal him, I’ll have to put my hands on him, but don’t expect a good job. Not after what you did to me.”

The words sounded stale coming from Tommy’s mouth because they felt untrue in the air, and he kept his gaze averted from Blade, opting to look at the totally and completely interesting wall to his left.

Silence hung heavy in the air for another few seconds, Blade's voice coming back in a shocked mess, leaving Tommy to shoot his eyes towards the man at his own shock of hearing such an emotion twing the voice of Dream’s greatest enemy. “So you’ll do it?” The man then swallowed, leaning back in his chair, composing his figure once more. “That’s good to hear.”

“I had a choice?” Tommy questioned, left arm pulling at its cuff to prove a point, like the movement would do anything but annoy the both of them.

With his head tilting to the side the man looked amused. “Well, you could have refused and I would have broken your other arm to make you say yes, but everyone does have a choice.”

Tommy huffed, head rolling to the side yet again as he mumbled Blade's words of ‘owing him’ into the unlistening air. “Choice.” The word was a joke throughout Tommy’s mouth, “Sure.” A singular pause before Tommy went on, fearing that just maybe the Blade was waiting for another response. “I just need to see him so I can understand the damage, work out what I need to do, surely you know, I’ve seen the number of injuries you’ve gotten in the field.”

Again, silence drifted throughout the room, and more then once Tommy thought Blade would stand to do just as he promised by breaking Tommy’s other arm just to prove a point. He had done similar things before, Tommy couldn’t stand to doubt the man would do it again.

He flinched as the Blade stood, holding in a breath as he walked across the room. He leaned down by Tommy’s bed, the boy watching by the corner of his eye, straining against the cuffs that held his wrists to try and pull himself as far away from the villain that he possibly could in this state. Before he could move further away he noticed the Blade had held up his arm, the white of the shirt pulled up revealing a long red gash, sewn together with stitches.

“You could heal this one too, little hero.” Tommy’s ears strained to pick up the whispered words, no matter the two of their closeness. A sickening smile painted itself across the man’s face, not matching the viscous look that was held in his eyes. “Maybe then I’ll consider helping you fix up your arm.” The smile grew and Blade moved in closer, that braid of his snaking over his shoulder. Tommy didn't want to breathe, didn’t want to move, he felt like a cornered animal, trapped and with nowhere to escape. The Blade continued, his hot breath tickling the skin of Tommy’s ear as he looked away with eyes closing to the all encompassing volume of the Blade’s voice throughout his mind. Tommy was unable to keep his gaze on the villain beside him. “Maybe it will hurt more the second time around.”

Silence prickled in Tommy’s ears and mind the noise of the heavy metal door scraping open and slamming closed causing the boy to jump.

And yet again he was left alone.

The ticking in the room continued, chasing thoughts of what next and questions of death and pain throughout Tommy’s mind.

He didn’t have his phone, nor any communication device that could help him contact Dream, help him contact anyone really. He was closer to dying than escaping the Arctic at this point, and knowing the Arctic, they would kill him before letting him go.

So what could he do?

He could sit and wait until he was forced by Angel or Blade to heal the wounds of Siren, a villain Tommy had healed once before. Maybe they would keep him here forever, healers were valuable after all, that and rare.

Dream would never stop looking for him. Of that Tommy was sure. He knew the man, understood how he worked, and oh did Dream know Tommy down to his littlest movements as well. Neither of them would stop.

Dream was all Tommy had, he didn’t want to be anything without him.

Everything came second after that; his job, his training, his friendships, his life outside the hero complex, even…

No. Wilbur couldn’t come second after anyone. He was intriguing, he sang and he had stories to tell and he introduced Tommy to things he could have never imagined were real. Surely if he were to make it out of here at all, he would be making it out of here for Wilbur.

Tommy didn’t want Wilbur to sit, waiting for him with those deep eyes and that testing smile, guilt coating each and every one of his words like Tommy was his greatest mistake. Tommy wanted to go back home and crawl back into Wilbur’s arms as he had the night before, the man a physical barrier between Tommy and everything wrong with the world.

Tommy didn’t want to be held here because he wanted Dream, and he didn’t want to be held here because he needed Wilbur.

It wasn’t long before that heavy door scraped open again, Blade walking back in, face kept in a neutral gaze towards the boy. Tommy huffed at the appearance of the man, his mask tinging the sound with an annoying hum.

“You’ll behave if I let off your cuffs?” A straightforward question, a weariness behind his voice that Tommy clung to.

He would nod, and the man would let him go, and then Tommy would make a break for it. He would probably die to the hands of Angel or the Blade, but that was better than being subject to their mercy, right? Surely it was better to go out fighting then not try at all.

So he nodded, the look in his eyes shadowed under the light of his goggles, still adorned on his face.

Blade was hesitant at first, moving towards Tommy, ready to set him free but pausing as his hand was halfway to the cuff settled around Tommy’s wrist. His eyes gleamed in the lights of the room and he pressed his lips together. Blade was smart, he knew to never show the emotions brewing behind his eyes and made sure no one could calculate his next move by just looking into his eyes. That was how he was so elusive, so brilliant.

And yet the moment passed, and the villain settled a hand on the cuff around Tommy’s left wrist, the restraint closest to him. He slid a polished key from his pants pocket with his other hand and went to unlock the cuff ever so slowly, the noise of the click grating against where the metal touched Tommy’s skin.

Tommy made no move, just keeping a patient eye on Blade as he trashed over the boy for the right cuff. He said nothing as Tommy let in a hiss of pain from the bent arm being jostled, continuing to unlock the cuff through Tommy’s sharp breaths of pain from the movement.

This would happen, wouldn’t it. Tommy was yet again at the mercy of those who had harmed him, he doubted there would be a day in his life where he wasn't.

Still, he kept quiet as Blade unlocked the cuffs around his ankles, a wary eye on the boy because oh did he understand the strive for escape from captivity.

With all cuffs unlocked, Blade leaned back, giving Tommy the space to sit himself up, gritting his teeth at the lightest pressure he put on his right arm but sitting up fully nonetheless.

The boy swung his feet over the edge of the bed, one sharp eye staying on Blade, knowing he could strike at any moment, and Tommy was very far from the arms of safety. “You’re slow.” The Blade finally said after a moment where the two of them spent watching each other, Blade waiting for Theseus to make a move and Tommy waiting for Blade to cut him down where he sat. “Stand up.” He finally demanded, rising from his own chair, he held out a hand towards Tommy, a lilt to his voice that could only sound mocking “Unless you need my help that is.”

“Shut up.” Tommy huffed, slowly straightening and settling all his weight on the floor as he stood, feeling that light headedness of the unconscious begin to wash over his mind at the movement. The boy closed his eyes feeling his body sway in the wake of the movement and praying he wouldn’t fall over. With a balancing hand on the wall the feeling passed and Tommy could look up, the Blade watching him from the door.

Oh did he look co*cky, hand on the door and the slightest bit of a smile gracing his lips because he knew he had caught Tommy, he knew the boy was too tired to try anything.

Not now at least.

But oh did that look in Blade’s red red eyes make Tommy want to defy that sureness if only just a bit.

Blade swung open the door, no password or code in sight, but Tommy wasn’t naive enough to think they didn’t have their own kind of protection on each of the doors. Enchanters were rare, but the Arctic was bound to have a few, just like how Pogtopia had the demon Bad.

The hallways outside was… well it was nothing like what Tommy would have ever expected the lair of villains to look like, so evil their name was whispered between alleyways and cursed at funerals. Really, it looked like a normal house, a bit cold for Tommy’s own liking but still just a house.

The walls were painted a light green, the shades that covered the windows, because of course they would shadow the outside world from Tommy’s sight, were a darker green, earthy in a way that felt calming to Tommy. Wooden floors lined the hallways, and there was sparsely a moment when they could be seen beneath blue and white carpets, swirling with designs and faded shades of blue from their years of use.

This was a home. Tommy was a bit jealous that the lair of the Arctic looked more like a home than his own ratty apartment felt.

Tommy, however, kept silent.

Blade strolled by his eide, always watching, just waiting for Tommy to make a wrong move. Tommy didn’t believe that Blade cared enough about Siren to not kill Theseus on the spot if he made a sudden move or a snarky remark. He had promised to do so before, Tommy didn’t think there was anything that would hold Blade from fulfilling those promises, from continuing on that reputation of blood and no remorse.

Wind rattled against the roof, disturbing some microwave that was in a room just out of Tommy’s line of sight. There was muffled music playing behind one of the closed doors that they passed, but Blade kept going, a steady warning hand on Tommy’s back that told him to keep moving, to always keep moving.

Warm lights brightened the ceilings of the hallway in which they walked, and along the several rooms that Blade led Tommy past, there was a brightness that reminded Tommy of a time long past, a person long forgotten, a time too early in his own life for even him to remember.

Eventually they came to a stop in front of a door, a shaded window just adjacent, exposing the tiniest sliver of light from the outside. Tommy didn’t have the time to look over it before Blade was opening the door in front of him and leading him in, a shake to his hand that Tommy put off as a sole sign of weakness. If that was what he needed to tell himself to keep breathing, that’s what he would tell himself.

The room was white, a boring color if you were to ask Tommy, but the walls were clean, and the curtains that hung draped across the window were green as grass and unmoving as a tree, despite the air conditioning that blew into the air from some vent above that Tommy couldn’t bother to look at.

Not when that was Angel staring at him from a comfy looking seat next to the only bed in the room. A bed where Siren, in all that he was lay, veil covering his face but skin pale where it showed beneath.

An unhealthy kind of pale.

Tommy’s eyes locked with the Angel, who rose from his seat. The man wasn’t as tall as Tommy, and he was by no means near Wilbur’s height, that giant, he just always seemed to look bigger with the wings, and now no wings adorned his back. Tommy didn’t know how that worked, but hybrids were always weird, he would know. Angel now just looked…well, like a normal person, weary, albeit, but still normal despite his hat and mask.

“Theseus.” The name was a prayer answered on his tongue, a question, and a surprise. “We didn’t know if you would do this.”

Tommy pressed his lips together, refraining from looking in Siren’s direction as that would put his mind in the icy depths of a basem*nt, the warm grip of arms he hated yet wanted to feel again so badly. It would take him back to the same memories of weariness that haunted his dreams, the same kind of tiredness that dripped down his spine and burned his back. The same kind of weariness that he didn’t have regrets over, not even now.

“Who’s to say I agreed to fix him.” The words dripped like acid from his tongue. A sneer came to his lips that despite their inability to see it he could feel it oozing into his voice as if it had always been there. “This is your mistake.”

The next word came so fast Tommy nearly thought he had imagined it. It was quiet, desperate, nearly a beg. “Please.”

Angel was stiff, and when Tommy met his eyes at the words they were rimmed with silver. Yet he still stood up straight, still looked down at Tommy giving the most demanding posture he could despite his stress.

But Angel was proud, he would never beg.

His hand was bandaged, held close to his chest, not defensively, more wary. Blade gave Tommy a nudge, a sign to get closer to Siren and a warning for him to do as he was told.

Every time Tommy would wake up from a long night of healing he was hooked up to something. Fear rested within the cracks of Pogtopia and was pumped throughout their body like a poison. They couldn’t lose their healer. Tommy was everything to them, they had someone watching him as he was in his weak space.

He was not something they could give up easily.

Siren was on the complete opposite side of the spectrum. No heart monitor sat close to his bed, beeping melodically as he breathed. There was no IV, no hospital bed, no nurses, no nothing. There was just Siren, chest rising slowly against the freezing temperatures of the room, did they live like this?

He just lay there, a bloodied white bandage wrapped across his chest and shoulder, the gauze telling Tommy exactly where the wound was. He leaned forward on instinct, looking the thing over with all the curiosity he could muster up.

And he stopped himself, hand frozen in the air where he was reaching towards the unconscious villain. He bit his lip and drew his hand back, unwilling to put himself into that same situation he had what felt like so long ago. Refusing to awaken the scourge of his nightmares, the man who in his sleep wrapped his hands around his throat and squeezed until all Tommy could see was red. The man who in his nightmares promised to inhale his last breath like smoke from a cigarette, the man who traced his face in waking moments with claws so sharp they cut the air around them.

The man who looked so human and vulnerable under the warm lights of the room. The man who looked weak and alone, and so close to death. The man that could only look human when Tommy wanted to fix him most.

“Theseus.” The same word uttered from two different mouths. One sounding exasperated, warning, a little fearful. And the other so quiet the word might have well been a whisper, a prayer, a beg into cold unlistening ears.

Tommy didn’t spare them a glance. He didn’t even look over to Blade or Angel to be sure they wouldn’t slaughter him at the slightest movement towards the unconscious villain.

He couldn’t be mistaken for sleeping. There were many times where Tommy had gone to heal someone and they looked so peaceful lying across the hospital beds, so still and silent they could be sleeping.

Siren was so different from them. His breaths came ragged and he wheezed out each bout of air like it was his last. Air came heavily to him, grating on his lungs and pulling on his limbs. This was not the first time Tommy had seen someone in such pain, and he knew it wouldn’t be his last.

And seeing Siren like this put Tommy at a kind of unease he wished he could die over the feeling. Because it was so fully like that night.

So completely like the night where he had gathered Siren into his arms and promised he would live, promised it would be okay.

And Tommy hated it.

“Let’s get this over with.” He muttered, an irritation to his tone.

Lowering himself into the seat moments before Angel had occupied, Tommy didn’t spare a glance at the other villains, both of whom watched him with piercing and wary eyes. He reached forward slowly, knowing that with any sudden movie would be pinned to the floor, told to beg for his last breath to not be infected with his own blood. He lay his hand on the bandaged shoulder, gauging the damage.

He huffed. It was a stale laugh in the freezing air of the room, Tommy suppressed a shiver, instead keeping his bent arm close to his body in an attempt at heat. “Whatever got him, it went straight through.” The boy murmured, and without another moment of hesitation began his work.

Things were easier when there was no debris, nothing to pull out in order for the wound to heal.

Skin stitched together beneath Tommy’s fingers, and Tommy wouldn’t lie and say Siren would have lived through this, lie and say that this wound was better than the last he had healed of the man.

Lie and say that he couldn’t regret what he had done and what he continued to do.

Even as he sat doing it yet again, energy draining because this had been a killing strike on Siren. Tommy leaned his weight further into the warmth that was Siren, curling into the heat like a cat but keeping his hand on the closing wound, trusting himself to at least be safe here, because Blade or Angel wouldn’t strike while he was so close to Siren, right?

Exhaustion pulled him down, and Tommy tried to concentrate to keep his good hand on the near fully healed wound that adorned Siren’s shoulder.

He didn’t want to see death, not again. When patients died under his care he–

No, Siren was far from death, well, now at least. Tommy couldn’t pull himself from the warmth of the man’s chest, not as he felt his power wane, or felt nausea and lightheadedness pull him under in a pure stretch of dizziness.

What did, however, startle Tommy back into life, pull him from that exhaustion like a fish being yanked from the water by it’s cheeks, were cold clawed hands jolting from under his body weight and gripping his shoulders as if even their owner didn’t understand the events that were taking place around them.

It was startling, enough to convince Tommy that that had been his last straw for the Arctic and they were finally being rid of him because he held no use to them now. It wasn’t startling enough to pull the exhaustion from Tommy, Siren had been on death’s door when Tommy pulled him up and out of the tar. He was good as dead, Tommy was just surprised that the same death hadn’t claimed him yet, why that same death was green as a forest and gold like the sun, liquid icor dripping out from behind a cracked mask.

Why death had an eye so bright it blinded Tommy, why death laughed and laughed and laughed because this all would be a game to him, wouldn’t it be.

And death opened his mouth, the next word slipping from past his tongue like a snake ready to strike, his claw tipped hands digging into his shoulders as he gasped in an air that was nearly denied from him, shock in his posture as he stared down at the boy, no so uncaringly in his lap. “Theseus.” and why was it then that death’s voice sounded so much like Wilbur?

Chapter 19: How to fix something broken

Chapter Text

Memory is a haunting thing, isn’t it?

It would revisit you in times of harshness and times of peace, times when you would never expect it, but never times where you were actively trying to get it back.

Odd.

Tommy didn’t remember his parents, or, better to say, whoever brought him into the world. It was a faded memory, far before the beginning of the war for independence. For him, life had started between alleyways eating rats for food and just hoping that healing factor of his would fight off any infection or disease the thing would give him before it became too late. He was hungry so often before Quackity found him.

Before Dream found him.

And before that he was in the foster care system. Like they had a real system there in the midst of war. It was disorganized at best, violent at worst.

Whatever got children off the streets Tommy supposed. Though he didn’t think that would last long. It didn’t, did it?

Tommy never looked back once he escaped, or left, is it really escape when no one wanted you there anyway? All he remembered of it was hissing nightmares, the ever so present bite of betrayal, as painful as the sting of a poisonous bug. The beds were soft at best, torn at worst, though now thinking of it, Tommy couldn’t blame them then, what more were they to do under the green god above’s piercing eye? That laugh that echoed across the horizon like thunder whenever he saw blood spilled or bones broken, or heartbreak so present in the black of the world.

And what had been before that?

The memory came to him now in unconsciousness. Warm calloused hands the orange light of a fire followed by the sting from being too close to that heat.

A home, something he only remembered in the light of peaceful sleep, something he hadn’t had in a very, very long time.

He remembers their voice, not remembering its sound, but remembering the familiarity behind each of the words.

Tommy sometimes thought of that, not often, but whenever he felt the heat of fire on his face. What had happened? Why couldn’t he have stayed in those warm hands, the comforting voice of someone he would never see again.

That must have broken him. So early in his life, to have gone from the loving arms of comfort to the hating cold of the world.

He didn’t feel that warmth again for so long after.

Dream said that warmth was a strong reminder of life, and there were no warm arms and love waiting from anyone, especially people like the two of them who had never leaned towards them in their lives. They were each other’s warm arms, for a while they were at least. Dream was a hesitant man, and he always had been. He found it difficult to trust, and the only reason he had taken Tommy along with him so long ago was because he saw himself in Tommy, he knew Tommy needed someone there for him, and by god, Dream would be that person.

Wilbur also saw himself in Tommy.

He didn’t try to hide it, Tommy thought he would, but then again, he could smell the man’s intention from day one. Maybe that’s why Tommy had clung to him so fiercely. He wanted that kind of attachment, and he would get it, no matter the selfish intentions behind the want.

Dream, in all senses, was the definition of a guardian. He was raising Tommy like a child. He wasn’t a father or a brother, he was just Dream, and that was all Tommy saw him as. Quackity was a friend, someone close you stuck to since the beginning of your childish life. Sapnap was a brother by the definition of one. He was rough and funny, and Tommy only looked up to him as much as he could look up to someone like Sapnap.

And Wilbur?

Tommy didn’t want to think of Wilbur right now. Everything here reminded the boy of him. From the sound of death’s voice to the mocking voice that the Blade sewed out to him in their slightest moments of banter where Tommy still wasn’t sure if the man would slit his throat or not.

It was too much. Wilbur was a representation of what he could have had if that sting of heat and soft voice stayed.

He was everything Tommy dreamed to be.

The room where he lay was silent save for the clock ticking, its noise echoing throughout the room as steady as a heartbeat. They hadn’t put the cuffs back on his arms or his legs, so Tommy presumed they didn’t think he would be strong enough when he awoke to escape.

He wasn’t, but he was strong enough for one other thing.

His arm hurt more now than it had in his entire life. His bone was trying to grow again now in order to fix whatever was causing the pain that writhed throughout his body. He was running out of the time he needed to fix this before the damage became irreparable.

Tommy shifted to sit on the edge of the bed, his sock covered feet pressed firmly against the cold floor. He breathed in, then out, in then out again, ignoring the grating pain that pierced up his bones as he pushed himself up and off the bed.

His arm was still at that wrong angle, he didn’t expect any different, but the look still caused a bile to rise in his throat. The clock read 10, and Tommy didn’t know if that meant at night, or in the morning.

Either way, the Arctic was known for beginning their work later in the night and disappearing before five in the morning. They would be here, and most likely they were watching, waiting, listening. It was their prime time after all, no matter if it were in the morning or the night.

Why would they care if he was to re break his arm, all they needed him for at present was for the healing of Siren, and whoever else they “requested” him to take care of.

Knowing both Dream and Quackity, they wouldn’t let the Arctic get away with this for so long. They hadn’t before, and they definitely wouldn’t now. Tommy’s original plan was to wait until Pogtopia got him back in order to fix himself in a well known safe environment, but the body was mysterious, and Tommy could wait no longer if he still wanted his arm to be of some kind of use to Pogtopia, to Dream.

So he walked to the edge of the bed, sliding his hoodie from his chest just leaving the black undershirt and bullet proof vests beneath. His breaths came fast to him, and because he knew that the Arctic already knew who he was, he slid his mask up and off of his face.

A clear view would make this easier, even if the discomfort of knowing that two way mirror was there, and someone may be watching. Then again, someone would have intervened by now if they knew what he was doing, right?

Blade had broken his arm once, and he had said he would do it again. Surely the man wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to do so willingly if given the chance.

Tommy bit his lip. But he needed to be doing it now.

To fix it while he could.

The air was cold, and Tommy couldn’t help the tremble in his hands as he looked around the room. There was no life to his own eyes as he met them in the reflective surface of that mirror. Darkness shadowed under his eyes, and seeing himself now he felt vulnerable without his mask. But he needed to see his limb properly, he needed to keep it operable now at least if he wanted to keep it attached to his body.

Rebreaking an arm was painful, more painful than the first break, but it always needed to be done.

It was sickening, the look of his arm, all twisted and mangled under the false action of healing by his body. It was horrible, he wished he could have set the bone when it had first been broken. He wished the bone hadn’t been broken in the first place. He wished he had never been put in that situation in the first place. He wished none of this would have happened. He wished that the jealous god hadn’t promised pain in every day of his life, this pain that was so clearly caused by him.

He wanted to go home, or lay in a river, or curl up in the deepest corner of the earth and just feel until everything around him turned to dust and it was just him.

But he had Dream, and he had a job.

So he looked around the room for a hard surface. He just needed to break the bone, set it in place, any other care he could deal with later, when he was anywhere but here.

Back in Pogtopia he could use tools, he would have help, a hand to hold in the inevitable pain of healing, and then it would be over.

Now it was just him. Just this room. And fear so saturated and pure in his heart in that hope that this would at least go okay. He didn’t want it to heal wrong again, and by leaving it as it was it only could get worse, maybe even untreatable if left alone for too long especially as it continued to try and heal itself now.

If he didn’t fix this now, he could be walking from here one arm short, and it was that thought that made Tommy narrow his eyes and stand straighter, looking for a way to break his arm in here. The best way out of the worst options.

There was the table, sturdy, edged, ready for anyone to use. But it wasn’t perfect, the edge would make for a messy break, quite possibly cause bone fragments. The floor was another option, hard, unmoving, but difficult to put into use when it was only him working to fix himself.

Tommy swallowed, eyes drifting to the bed frame where a long cylindrical bit of metal was curved from the feet over the head of the bed. That wouldn’t cause too much damage, but it might mess with where the bone broke again. Then again, every option did that, but this just might be the safest.

Another glance to the end of the bed told the hero the foot of the frame was shaped similarly with that long metal cylindrical skeleton of a structure was attached to the feet.

…

It would do.

Tommy walked over, hands trembling as he ran one over the smooth cold surface of the metal. He sucked in a freezing breath from the room into his lungs, thankful for the lack of a mask covering his face as he thought any kind of block between him and the outside world would cause him to gag.

He didn’t want to think too much about it.

Tommy took in another deep breath and placed the bent part of his arm gently against the metal of the frame.

“Okay.” He whispered into the air, zoning into the bent and broken arm. “It’ll be fast.”

Tommy would say those words constantly to patients in Pogtopia when he needed to reset a bone, or do a round of stitches. The words had numbed to him. He didn’t believe them anymore. His vision tunneled onto the bar and the twisted painful arm he set on the thing. He could try and pin his arm down with his leg and apply enough pressure with his right arm to do something, but he didn’t really think–

“What the f*ck are you doing?” Tommy’s vision snapped up to the door. It must have been opened while he was trying to focus, while he was trying to do what he needed to do. Suddenly he was very aware of his unmasked face in the cold room, tensing for a moment before he remembered that no matter what, Siren already knew who he was and where he lived, had been there. There wasn’t much more he could keep from Siren at this point.

Their eyes met, and Tommy… Tommy couldn’t muster up the energy to go into his explanation. Not now, and he wasn’t sure if he would ever be ready.

“Will you break it for me?” The words were small in the cold air, the closest thing Tommy could get to a beg in front of Siren. Because looking at it now, remembering the hesitation and the pure want for it to just stop, Tommy could never do this on his own.

Siren had promised a thousand times over to break every bone in his body. Blade said Siren owed him for saving his life, and Siren had the same to Tommy in that dark alleyway on the way home. But hatred like that did not fade so easily, Tommy would know. Surely Siren would take up the offer with little to no hesitation.

And yet…

He took a step back, that veil covered face revealing nothing in the shadows of it. “Break your arm?” The words came horrified, they sounded sick in the man’s throat.

Tommy couldn’t look towards him any longer, eyes snapping back the the mangled mess of an arm beneath him. He couldn’t live like this. “Or tell me to do it myself, I just…” He paused, biting his lip. Tommy never felt so desperate before, or maybe he had and he just had forgotten the feeling. “I don’t know how to do it and I–” can’t do it by myself.

The words made him sick, and seeing Siren look over him with such a puzzling stand to him, Tommy didn’t know what to say.

“I…” The word came slowly from Siren, a kind of hold to himself that Tommy only recalls seeing in himself in the mirror. “I can’t.”

What had Tommy expected. Siren was unpredictable, of course he would pull something like this on Tommy.

“Theseus, I don’t think you understand.” The words were soft, even through the voice changer that adorned the man’s throat. “I owe you, I don’t think I can ever hurt you again after what you’ve done for me, you might not even understand the impact, the pain it–” He cut himself off, taking a step backward toward the door and holding himself stiffly still. “I won’t do it.” The words were firm, and Tommy looked back to the bed frame in front of him, trying to muster up the strength once again, though he didn’t know if he could continue along with this while Siren was in the room.

Weakness always felt like a private matter.

“However…” The word slipped past the man's lips. “The Blade is stronger than me, he could.” A pause of thought and a tilting of the man’s head. “He could help you better than I could, if you are certain, that is.”

It felt out of character the way that Siren reached out to Tommy, the way even the man’s hands shook as he held them, palms up in a form of peace towards the boy.

And… Tommy was too tired. He didn’t want to do this himself. His hands shook too much, he didn’t have the right tools, and it needed to be fixed now. Tommy could feel the unhealthy healing happening just beneath his skin at the pain that racked through his arm.

Was it poetic that Tommy wanted the man who broke his arm in the first place to now break it again?

“Please.” The word was soft, tired, and so much more weak without that twinge of Tommy’s voice changer that was set in his mask, now discarded on the bed. “I need to re break it as soon as possible, and if Blade is the only one who will do it…” He bit his lip, looking down to the mangled mess of his arm, seeming to look more and more unhealthy with every glance towards it. “I need him to do it.”

***

When Blade entered the room, he froze at the sight of Tommy, Siren trailing in beside the man.

He was maskless, Tommy was, of course the man would be scared, but Tommy just wanted this over with. His arm was hurting more than ever now with snakes of pain throbbing through his arm at every beat of his heart, and he just wanted it fixed, he didn’t even know if he was thinking straight anymore.

The villain looked back at Siren for just a moment, then whatever shock had passed across his face was gone, settled back with that cold uncaring stare.

The man stepped towards Tommy, and the boy shrunk back, sitting on his bed like it was the only safe space for miles. He curled in on himself. Even if he wanted all this over with, the distrust he held for Blade would never leave.

He tilted his head to the side, a movement Tommy had seen so many times before, usually when the Blade had him at knife point, blood dripping down his throat like rain on a quiet night. He stopped then, now he was just starting.

He took a few steps towards Tommy’s bed, no slowness or pity to the motion, just pure intent. Reaching out his hand, Tommy’s eyes flickered down then back up to his eyes like they display was another kind of attack. “Give me your Theseus,” the words weren’t soft or quiet but they weren’t a demand. Tommy tilted his head; he didn't expect anything like this. So he did what he was asked. He allowed his arm to slowly bend the mess of it still prominent in the harsh light of the room, all the focus of the people around on the ligament.

He didn’t want to look at Siren, not now with his arm held out to Blade so much pain in such a little movement.

Blade’s calloused hands scraped against the fabric of Tommy’s black long sleeved undershirt. The man gave him no pitying look, no inquisitive glance, just a cold hard nod, an unspoken are you ready? Tommy bit his lip, eyes drifting back down to his arm, and with the firm nod the boy gave back to the warrior pure pain and fire burst through his veins once, a pause, then again.

He couldn’t help the sound that bubbled to the surface of his throat and the tears that trickled down his cheeks as fast as they came to his eyes. Tommy looked back down to his arm, now straightened but not yet set into the right places.

“I need to…” The words bubbled from Tommy’s throat, and he could feel the bones in his arm fusing back together as each moment passed. He couldn't finish the sentence before more magma snaked through his lungs, and a hiss was drawn through his teeth.

But the pain was lighter than the burn of before, and once again when Tommy looked over his arm, it was fine.

It was fixed.

He ripped his hand from Blade’s grasp holding it close to his chest like it was the most precious thing in the world. Because now it was fixed now it was all right it was healed and it was perfect and he was still in the den of lions, unsafe. But he didn’t want to focus on that now he just held his arm close to his chest looking over the skin and thanking whatever God that was listening for letting it heal right, stay all right, letting him to keep it.

Moments passed and Tommy still sat curled on the bed, arm held so close to his chest. Soon enough he heard shifting movement coming right after like the silence of the room was too much and whoever heard it needed to fill it with something else around. A weight settled on the bed near Tommy’s feet but he didn’t mind he didn’t even want to look he just kept feeling over his now fixed arm reveling in the fact that it was okay, making sure that he didn’t need to break it again. Because he didn’t want to do that, never again.

But the weight stayed and Tommy had to remember just where he was. Ever so slowly the hero peaked between his knees and looked up into the veil of Siren, because of course it would be him there, of course it would be him waiting for a response like he was owed one.

But Tommy wouldn’t be the first to speak, he never was not here not now not after he was taken by them for some reason or another. So he stayed silent with his eyes on Siren though the man fidgeted where he sat.

Was this a trick? Where they would help him heal himself then expect answers from him in return. It was low. Dream taught him better than that.

He didn’t go through the training if he were to be captured in battle. Medics were supposed to be off-limits, even medics like Tommy who fought and bit and slashed. They were supposed to leave him alone. But when have villains ever listened to the rules of battle?

So he stayed silent. He kept weary eyes on the villain. And he was the one who waited. Because he would not give them what they wanted, not with that slightest hint of kindness because what kindness was re breaking an arm that you already ruined.

“Thank you.” Tommy froze at the words, they were loud in the silence of the room. And they caught his attention.

Siren couldn’t look at him, he couldn't even look up from his feet on the floor. And still, he kept going, “ Not just for tonight, but for… the last one.” He finally looked up, the gold that snaked through his veil enchanting in this moment. “I wouldn’t be alive without you, and I don’t think you understand the impact that had on me.” He tilted his head to the side, giving a bit of silence for Tommy if he wanted to speak, to reply to what Siren had just shoved on him. But he couldn’t get his lips to move, all he could do was stare. Siren went on, “I owe you everything now, Theseus. You may not believe it because you’re stubborn and you think I hate you for what you did, but my life now belongs to you.”

And Siren was right.

Tommy didn’t believe him.

The villain was still for another moment, giving Tommy the time to speak, to say anything, but he kept silent, not wanting to give the villain one more thing over him, because what did Siren even owe him?

He just didn’t believe it.

He couldn’t.

Moments of silence passed. Siren said nothing, Tommy said nothing, what did they have to say after all. Siren's jaws full of fear and pain had wrapped itself around Tommy’s throat so often with a promise of death by his own hands so many times how could Tommy ever believe anything Siren said was true, how could he ever believe that he was worth something to this… villain.

He looked at him like he was the most interesting thing in the world, like Tommy was a puzzle he wanted to put together. He had been looked at like that so many times in this past month so many people had seen him like he was something to put together, something broken. But in the end he didn’t really think he could blame them.

He came from nothing, he was nothing, he was nothing to anyone. To Dream he was everything, to Dream they were brothers they were family they were everything they couldn’t live without. To Sapnap, they were brothers, they were friends, they were companions, they were just people who knew each other who loved each other. To Quackity he was a friend, Their minds were the same, he was someone just like him, a twin in a sense. To Wilbur he was a friend maybe nothing more maybe nothing less but they still wanted each other‘s attention they still wanted to be near each other because they were just so similar. He knew things about Wilbur he was sure Wilbur never told him and Tommy was sure that Wilbur knew things about him that he had never said out loud.

But Tommy was not something that needed to be put back together. He was something that had been put back together so many times before. He could acknowledge that there were still broken pieces out there somewhere. You could acknowledge that there was something missing. Who is he to say that something was wrong when so many people had worked so hard to put him back together, when so many people wanted him to be okay and thought he was perfect.

In perfect condition.

That’s what Dream had said once. He wanted to keep Tommy in perfect condition. But how did he know Tommy had ever been in perfect condition to begin with. With the way Siren looked at him now, Tommy didn’t think he had ever been in perfect condition.

But Tommy is so vulnerable here he was so open he had no mask and nothing covering his face. He was open, and Siren saw him now just as he was. And that unnerved Tommy.

“I’m going to take you to your home.” Siren said, looking away from Tommy and to the wall at the two way mirror. “I don’t think you need to be here. I definitely owe you enough to bring you home even though you might not believe it.”

And Tommy couldn’t believe it.

He stared and he stared. Siren didn’t relent, he didn't jump up and yell ‘just kidding!’ or grab Tommy’s arm and break it once more, he just kept his eyes on that mirror he shifted once or twice but didn’t relent any more words, any more words reasoning to why he would say such a thing.

“Home?” Tommy said, “Of course you know where I live.” He almost laughed and actually let out quite a little huff at the words. “You would do anything to find me after you first saw me wouldn’t you. If you really owed me, if you really thought me saving your life meant anything you wouldn’t have come after me, would you have?” And that was it that was a thing Tommy had been thinking up for so long the reason why he thought that Siren wouldn’t come after him in the first place because he had healed him but still Siren had broken the trust and memorized his features had looked all over for him just to find him and find where he lived. Siren was evil. He always had been. Tommy didn’t know if he always would be.

But Siren just shrugged, and Tommy couldn’t believe it. Surely Siren will keep him, surely they needed him for some reason or another, not just to keep Siren from dying one more day. But there was no deceit in his next words as he spoke.

“I’ll say it once I say it twice I’ll say it however many times you need for me to get it through that thick skull of yours.” That was the most Siren thing Tommy had heard him say in the last week, in the last month even. “I enjoy my life and you kept that from ending. I owe you, whether you believe it or not.” How many times would he continue to say that? “And I know you don’t believe me, but I will not threaten your life anymore because I do owe you everything.” A tilt of his head, “And I see the human in you now. You’re just a boy, you’re just a kid, I don’t even know why you’re here I don’t even know who put you up to this why–” he cut himself off. Taking a deep breath he shrugged once more and stood. “I'll bring you home,'' he said again “And you’ll be safe.”

With that, Siren stood and walked to the door, and Tommy was shocked to still see Blade standing straight in the corner, looking not all too happy about the words Siren had just spoken.

Another moment passed and the door closed with a heavy slam, leaving Tommy in the silence and cold confusion racking his mind like a deep pure blooded cold.

Chapter 20: Escape of the body is very different from escape of the mind

Chapter Text

Tommy had driven with a lot of people in his life. Sapnap, who was rowdy in person but in a car, was one of the safest people ever. Quackity had a love for driving, he always had, but that didn’t mean he was good at it. Out of everyone, Tommy knew he was the most reckless driver, but it was always a fun time with him nonetheless. Dream drove like a racer, though he didn’t drive all too often, when he did he was too fast, too reckless. Gotta have fun sometimes he always said, we don’t get that a lot.

He was right.

Dream used to drive Tommy back to his home from school when he began working at Pogtopia. He would stop the car in front of Tommy’s apartment and give him the lightest shoulder punch goodbye. Siren was nothing like that.

Tommy’s gear was all wrapped up in a nice little backpack at his feet, his arms folded over his chest like those would protect him better than the light civilian clothes Angel had prepared for him before Siren had taken him out to their car, Blade right on their heels.

It was like being in the back of a police car, thinking you’ve done something wrong, though Tommy wasn’t sure if police officers slipped dark blindfolds over your eyes for the ride as Siren and Blade had the moment they stepped into their messy garage. They were silent and that silence was awkward. Too awkward. Tommy shifted in a seat, facing forward, toeing the backpack at his feet with his new shoes in an fidget Dream would have hated to see, unease was a weakness.

How odd was this? How odd was it being in the back of the car, Siren driving with that veil still adoring his face as far as Tommy knew behind his blindfold. Blade was even more awkward, sitting right next to Tommy in the backseat. The strangeness threw him off, Blade, the Blade was here keeping an eye on Tommy like he was the most dangerous thing in the world. It’s not like Tommy was going to take off his blindfold, even if his hands were free, he enjoyed his life too much for that. That, and Tommy could already tell they were on the highway by the car’s speed as it rumbled below him. It wasn’t like Tommy was anything like a school kid who knew he was in trouble in the back of his parents car on the drive home.

Oh wait, that’s exactly what this felt like.

He hated it. Tommy hated this situation and he just wanted to go home, sure, but he didn’t know if he wanted it like this. Because this was Siren bringing him home. This was Blade watching over him in the backseat of the car. It threw him off to know now that not only had Siren seen his face now, Blade had too.

He had looked at Tommy only that one time when the man fixed his bent arm, sparing the boy only one glance before looking away, never to look upon his face again, not when Tommy could see him at least.

The air around them was tense. Blade sitting where he was, he made no noise, only shifting every once and a while. His only show of discomfort was when he cleared his throat, a kind of unease behind the action that Tommy understood far too well.

This whole situation just felt shameful to Tommy. Now more than ever before in his life, Tommy felt like he was at the mercy of the two villains. Being trapped below their knees and stuck between their blades and the wall was nothing compared to this, even if he couldn’t take in his surroundings now.

Maybe it was the tenseness which he felt now, the unease at not knowing what was happening at all. He couldn’t trust anything that Siren said, he couldn’t trust anything Siren did. The amount of times he had cut Tommy open like a frog on an eighth grader’s dissection table was uncountable. The looks he gave him were always filled with hatred, with a kind of venom Tommy hoped would strike him and not his mentor, who was the one person he held close to himself.

Too much, all this was too much, too unexpected, too unpredictable. But still they kept driving, The speed of the car slowed, telling Tommy one thing: they had gotten off the highway. It should be comforting here in the midst of slower driving, that meant they were closer to their location, didn’t it? Instead of giving him the comfort he needed in this moment, cold unrelenting fear rushed through his chest at the feel of the vehicle’s slow pace.

It confirmed some of Tommy’s greatest fears, the fear that they most likely knew where he lived if they were here driving through a residential area at that good pedestrian friendly speed limit, they knew where to find him if they at some point changed their mind, and Tommy was confident that was their plan all along.

Finally, and without warning, Blade pulled the blindfold from Tommy’s face, and he couldn’t say that the was excited to see his apartment building come within sight of the car. Siren slowed the vehicle to a halt, and the three of them sat there in silence. Blade is the one that cleared his throat, breaking the silence, keeping his gaze anywhere but on Tommy. Blade pulled the blindfold away and tucked it into the pocket behind the seat in front of him, “This is your stop.” Siren said, like it wasn’t obvious they were outside Tommy’s apartment complex, like they hadn’t just confirmed to him they knew where he lived, and where to find him if they ever wanted that knowledge of his ever again, not like he had given them any information this past day, but still.

Tommy shifted at that, testing his movement, eyes blinking into the setting sun ahead of them, new and bright passed that blindfold Blade had taken away. “What, so I just got out? Leave the car?” It didn’t feel real, it felt like a trick, deceit.

Blade and Siren glanced towards each other, Siren sliding an arm over the back of his seat, there was a kind of co*ckiness to the movement.

“Think of it like your family is dropping you back at home after school.” Siren chided, waving a hand through the air like that was the most obvious way to see this situation. He shrugged again, Tommy tensed at the movement, Siren did like to show a kind of ease in his movements before he struck in the field. His head rested on the back of his seat, his two hands gripping the steering wheel, those black claws of his scratching at the leather that covered the thing. The man’s veil of a mask slipped only the slightest bit up his chin from the movement, revealing the secondary ‘real’ mask under the golden veined silk. Tommy’s eyes darted away, even the slightest look at the man as his mask slipped feeling like a taboo.

“Blade will give you your phone once you step from our car.” Siren continued, rolling his head against the leather of his seat so he could glimpse Tommy sitting just behind him in the car. “We wouldn’t want to give it to you now of course.”

As if that was what Tommy was questioning, he still kept his eyes averted from the villain who sat in the driver’s seat, his veil sneaking further and further up his face as he leaned his head further back against his seat. “I don’t care if you’re going to give me my phone or not.” Tommy said, waving his hands through the air, taking at least Blade aback with the movement. “I just want you to get the joke over with. What are you—what are you doing? I can deal with it if you’re just pulling a prank, you’ve done it a million times before, I just—“ the words went unsaid, unheard, I don’t understand what’s happening. Siren and Blade looked at him for a long moment, sharing the most minimal of glances towards each other.

“We’re dropping you off at home.” Blade drawled, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. And why couldn’t Tommy believe them? The words felt smart in the air like they were a mockery towards Tommy’s confusion. “I could threaten you, if that would make it better.” That would’ve been better, Tommy thought. It would’ve been so much better, so much easier to understand. But he just stared at them. “I can threaten you no problem.” Blade repeated with a shrug like it was something to brag about, like Tommy hadn’t heard the first time, like the words meant nothing. Tommy guessed they did mean nothing, Blade had threatened him so many times before it’s not like this would be something new.

It was Siren who broke the silence in the car, drawing Tommy’s glaring eyes back from the blade and onto the masked man in the front seat. “That’s enough.” The words weren’t sharp, but they nabbed both Tommy and Blade’s attention. “You’re free to go Theseus,” a tilt of his head, “You act like my life means nothing to me, and I know I won’t be able to convince you, but you don’t understand the debt I owe you, you never will.” Silence sat heavy between them for a moment, both Blade and Tommy blinking at the words, it seemed neither of them expected to hear them from Siren. At least Tommy was on the same page as someone here.

Siren just waved his hand after some time, moving to look out the front window, keeping his eyes pointedly off Tommy before fixing his veil so it fully covered his face once again.

“Get out of our car, Theseus.” It was Blade who spoke, the words tired and too emotionless to carry any threat he meant to put in them.

Tommy didn’t hesitate then, wrenching the door beside him open, thinking for the slightest moment that the thing would be locked, and this whole joke would be continued by the Arctic, and they would laugh as he struggled, laugh that he even tried, laugh that he might have believed them even if it was for the most minimal of seconds.

But the door clicked open, and Tommy crawled out of the slick black car, tugging that backpack along with him, the thing full of everything he needed.

He faced the car, confusion writhing in his brain like a coiled millipede. They had told the truth.

“Catch!” The word was sudden, but Tommy was ready for it anyhow. He reached out on instinct, something cold and metal hitting his palms.

His phone.

“Put a case on that thing, will you?” The words were a tease, they felt so wrong coming from the mouth of Siren, “You’re making me nervous just walking around with that thing bare, you’re going to break it!”

Tommy flipped them off without a second thought, and by the next moment the car was gone, skirting around the far corner of Tommy’s street, laughter trailing along with the wind it left behind.

And then it was just him.

He took a breath, two, then fumbled with his phone for a moment. He was out, this was his phone, it wasn’t a dream, and he needed his Dream.

The black screen greeted him, his fingers fumbling with the buttons on the side. Of course they would turn his damn phone off, the absolute losers. He would say it was because they had nothing better to do with their lives, and not because it was practical for them as villains.

The logo of the phone brand flashed bright white in the darkness of the twilight. His fingers slipped against the cool metal of his phone, maybe Siren was right and he should get a case for the damn thing. The thought didn’t stay as the boy’s lock screen flicked in the darkness of the night. Tommy didn’t know how much time passed between when the black car swung around the corner of the street and when he heard the ringing of the line as he pressed his phone against his ear, breaths strangely calm given the events of the past twenty four hours.

The click of the receiver was fast, and the voice that came after was faster, “Where are you?” The voice came panicked, harsh through the static of the line.

“Home.” The word was monotone, even Tommy couldn’t convince himself of where he was now, or could he?

“Stay on the line.” It was an order brought about by fear. Tommy understood, how could he not? That fear had been part of his life since he was born. So he sat on the front stairs of his building, disbelief running through his veins like acid. Because they had let him go. That panicked breathing echoing across the phone like a f*cked up beat to a song.

Time passed slowly as Tommy kept the phone pressed to his ear, it grated on his bones and clawed at the inside of his brain. Siren had let him go, the Arctic and let him go. His eyes flashed to the backpack they had given him in that rememberance, he tore it open the metal of the zipper screaming against itself as Tommy pulled a little too hard on the tabs. He looked through all the things the Arctic had packed in there for his leave, clothes delicately folded like they cared.

He ripped at the seams of the back, pulling out any padding that was in between the fabric. He tore through the clothes in the bag, the food, even a letter written by the Angel’s own hand, a thank you for the healing of Siren. They cared about each other so much. And even though he tore through the fabric, ripped the seams of his backpack and looked everywhere, he could find no evidence of a tracker, of a wire, of anything they were using to keep tabs on him.

They had let him go.

Siren’s words still made no sense to him. He couldn’t believe him, he wouldn’t believe them. Siren owed him nothing, surely it was all a lie, a trick.

Yet here he was, at his home with all of his things plus extra. Why, why, why would they let it go, why would they let him get away from them, why would they give him up so easily? Did he really mean nothing?

He wouldn’t believe what Siren had told him, he couldn’t. That would break everything they were before, it would be different now Tommy didn’t know how to deal with that. Siren had been the bane of his nightmares for so, so long. Who was he now to clutch Tommy’s hand close to his chest and promise he wasn’t lying again? Who was he to turn their entire dynamic in its head and mold it to what he wanted?

But Tommy was still here. No tracker or wire in sight. Just him, and the outside world, as confusing and hateful as it was.

What would Dream think? The thought struck him as hard as a bus. Siren and Blade and Angel hadn’t even told him what happened, how he had gotten to their base under their guidance. Siren had told him to sleep and then he woke up there, and now…

Now he was home, he had nothing to tell Dream, no intel about that base no—no reason for why he had been there. Nothing, he had nothing. What use was he if he came back with nothing? What use was he if he came back after healing Siren a second time over.

They hadn’t known about the first, was that the reason for the second time? Was that the reason they took him this time? Tommy wanted to know so bad. Tommy was taken by the Arctic before he was even sure of the weight he held with them, but had they taken him just so he could heal Siren?

Tommy wanted tovomit. He wanted to go upstairs to his room, and lay on his bed until all the world turned to dust around him. He wanted Dream to tell him what was happening, he wanted to know everything that was going on, he wanted to be sure that what was happening wasn’t just all a dream was not just some trick on behalf of the Arctic order to drag Tommy closer and closer into their clutches. He wanted Wilbur to tell him that it was normal,he wanted to at least be deceived into thinking that this was okay so he could move on with his life. He had value as a healer after all, he always had, and he would be a fool to think the Arctic didn’t see that value as well, even as they threatened his limbs and skin and bones.

More than anything, and he hated himself for this, he wanted Wilbur.

Wilbur the only rock in his raging sea of uncertainty. If anything in this world made sense it was how Wilbur treated him. A brother, someone who just wanted peace for him, someone who was just so unbelievably normal that Tommy wished he could see himself in the man even more than he already did.

He was just so human. Tommy wished that was him. It was envious but it drove the boy.

Before he knew it, a car came racing around the corner of the street. A familiar car, but it was unsettling nonetheless. He stood from his spot sitting on the stairs of his apartment building. He felt himself step forward once, then twice. The car was in front of him seconds later and after that, a green hoodie, green eyes, blonde hair, and a dark expression crossed his vision.

“Tommy!” The name was frantic on his tongue, it snaked throughout the air and bit at Tommy’s throat. Tommy, not Theseus.

Tommy.

“What happened?” Tommy asked, the words startling him more than anything, he had so thoroughly expected Dream to ask them, but they dropped through the air in a venomous monotone slur.

Sapnap was by their side a moment later, Dream kneeling in front of Tommy, checking him over.

He thought Dream would argue, would shove his question next, say it was more important to know what Tommy had been doing. Relief glided through the air and he stood from his kneeling position putting a hand on the boy's shoulder to check he was all right.

“It’s a mess, Tommy.” Dream said, he gave himself little time to sigh, To work through whatever fast emotions were beating through his brain like blood through his veins. “Siren saved you.” The words tore Tommy open, they ripped stomach to shreds and they tore out of his chest like they were a living thing.

“Siren.” It wasn’t a question, or curiosity, it was just a word. Siren would never save Tommy, he could barely look the boy in the eyes without telling him how he would break every single bone in his body just to hear him scream and beg for it all to end.

“We’re lucky there were cameras all throughout the building”. Dream stated. He didn’t sound calm, he didn't sound happy about it. “They brought you up from the hidden room. Siren saved you from a stray bullet shot by a police officer. He got shot himself in doing so, but Headquarters didn’t like hearing about that.” The man bit his lip, and for the first time in a very long time Tommy caught the look of nervousness clear and plain on Dream’s features. “They think—“ a pause, then a deep sigh as the man closed his eyes to the fading light of the world. “They think you’re working for the Arctic.” If there had been anything past twenty four hours that had happened to Tommy to make him wonder why he was doing this at all, it was that.

“What?” Betrayal, maybe even a hurt that was so deeply emotional, ripped across Tommy’s skin. “Why would they think that?” It felt ridiculous to Tommy, crazy even. It was edging on the rim of insanity. In all the years he worked with them why would this be the one thing, the one thing that would cast doubt on him.

“He saved you.” Dream said as if it was obvious. “Siren walked out of there with you hanging over his arms and it looked so staged. People know you as rivals, they know you two as people who hate each other. And this, this looked so real. Like all the hatred you two shared with each other just disappeared and it was just you.”

Siren had saved him, this was real this had happened. And the hate was gone. It didn’t make sense. Tommy couldn’t say he ever really hated Siren, no, it was just his job, it had been his job since he was young: Stop the villains from completing their objective. It was all he really knew, all that any of them knew. But Siren had hated him for it. The man had clawed at his skin with those black sharpened talons of his, he leaned in so close with that golden veined veil, promising a death slow and painful for the hero who had ruined everything.

It was guilt. It had to be. What other reason had Siren had to save him in that moment? He had gotten shot in the place of Tommy, he had suffered pain of something he had promised to do to Tommy over and over and over again. Was he–

The realization made his blood run cold. Everything Siren said had been the truth. Everything had been the truth. Siren felt guilty, Siren really thought he owed Tommy for the life Tommy had given back to him so freely in the cold of that basem*nt.

There was no tracker on him, not a thing out of place in the back pack they had given him. Siren was keeping his word. Siren was guilty, Siren –

Hod to ruin everything for Tommy. One act of kindness, just one, had brought him this far. And the kindness had caused a domino effect. Could he blame the god of the wasteland for this? Could he scream and shout and tell him to take it back because Tommy never wanted this?

No, this was all on Tommy, he realized, It was him who chose to heal Siren in the depths of that freezing basem*nt, the man calling for a father that would never come. It was him that told Siren it would all be okay, who held him close and promised he would live, even while Tommy wasn’t sure if his strength would be enough. In the end it was all Tommy who started this. He saved Siren, Siren believed that he owed Tommy for the act, Siren saved him, and now everybody thought they were working together.

This was all Tommy’s fault. He had no one to blame but himself and he hated that.

“What do I do?” He felt powerless, out of control like a hurricane sweeping across land. What did he have to do? Did he even have any options?

If he did, Dream would know. Dream was smart like that, every single day he had solutions to every single problem they came across. Right?

He looked up at Dream now with hopeful eyes, but the man was shaking his head, eyebrows drawn up, biting his bottom lip. And Tommy’s hope dropped, because Dream looked on the outside just how hopeless Tommy felt within.

“I—“ and what could he say? What was there to say? “I don’t know.”

“They wanted me to come and grab you, and bring you home immediately.” He took a deep breath. Tommy wished the man was wearing his mask now, he wished those hopeless eyes were hidden from sight, he wished Dream would at least look at him, he wished… he…

He didn’t know what he wanted.

The boy looked to the dirty ground, his new shoes as provided by Angel already dirty with dust in their time outside.

“They want to put you on trial, Tommy.” He was quiet as he said this, but the words didn’t shock the boy, in fact, he would go as far as to say he expected them.

It was headquarters after all, Tommy knew whatever footage of Siren saving him had been aired on live television. He knew the public would be looking for an answer, and whatever he had to say about it wouldn’t be enough, whoever spoke to the public, it had to be headquarters.

“Either way I think they’ll be trying to stick you in Pogtopia to stay.” It felt dark, venomous.

HQ had been looking for an excuse to keep him in that underground base since he began on his missions, this was just a trigger, an excuse for them to finally get what they wanted and keep their healer safe and pristine in the basem*nts of a place Tommy hated.

Dream laughed then, a humorless thing, and ran a hand through his hair, messing with its neatness. “It’s everything I wanted.” It really had been hadn’t it. It was everything Dream wanted, it was everything he asked of Tommy since the beginning, since that first day he stepped into the field right behind the man.

“I know I’ve been asking this of you for so, so long.” He said, voicing aloud Tommy’s inner thoughts, and he finally met Tommy’s eyes, green on blue so sharp and piercing Tommy wanted to lean into Dream’s grasp and have him say how everything would be okay like he had once said to Siren, he wanted Dream to say that he wouldn’t be locked in Pogtopia’s basem*nt until headquarters saw fit. He sighed, a tired look finally crossing over his face like he finally let it break that barrier of stoicism. “I know you, Tommy. And I know that’s not what will be best for you. I know it could never be what’s best for you.” He looked up into the sky then back down to Tommy’s eyes.

He thought for a long moment, his eyes never leaving Tommy’s as a thousand different thoughts and emotions flickered through his gaze and movements like they were taking a physical form.

Sapnap stood silently behind them, Tommy had nearly forgotten he was there until he spoke. “We could leave him here.” The words were not firm or strong, they were just an option.

Dream also seemed to have forgotten Sapnap's presence, because he turned sharply at the words, the slightest hint of surprise coming to his face as quickly as it left.

“But headquarters—” Where Sapnap’s words brought a warmth to Tommy’s chest, Dream’s tore it away. Dream had always been a stickler to the rules, that’s what had gotten him so far into headquarters and the public’s favor. “They’re going to want answers, everyone will. You and I both know the shock that the public is going through now, the stories they’re fabricating about Theseus’ and Siren’s relationship, I…”

But the fight was draining from his posture, and his shoulders dropped. Tommy didn’t think Dream really cared about what headquarters wanted, what the public wanted when it came to him. To Tommy, not Theseus.

And… Dream sighed.

“I’ll stay with you over the night, we’ll work out what all happened.” A breath, his eyes intense on Tommy, flicking to Sapnap. “Tell HQ I need time to make sure he’s okay. I’ll be back in the morning.”

While Tommy wanted relief to flow through his veins freely like butterflies in the wind, but he only felt the pit in his stomach grow. What would he tell him? How do you explain to Dream what happened to him in the past twenty four hours. How could he look him in the eyes after?

Then again, he would rather have that than have to tell HQ what happened.

This was the better of all the options. This is what he would want the most.

So Sapnap nodded, and before he left, he too looked over Tommy, making sure he really was okay. Not that they would ever be able to tell through the healing factor that spread through his veins like honey. Moments later he crawled into Dream’s car and waved them goodbye, slowly pulling onto the street and away to Pogtopia.

They both watched his car turn around the corner, eyes lingering on the brick for a moment before they looked back to each other.

Dream looked so relieved to see Tommy here alright, he set a hand on the boy’s head and ruffled his hair.

“You okay?” He questioned, unable to hide the shake in his voice.

Tommy nodded, and they both felt the lie oozing through the option. “You head up, there’s something I need to do first, um…” this was not going to look good, “Alone, I’ve got a civilian friend I need to tell I’m okay.”

No unease or suspicion crossed Dream’s face then, only trust. He slipped the hand that sat on Tommy’s head onto his shoulder, a ghost of a smile dusting his lips. “I won’t go up without you, but I’ll wait in the lobby.”

Their eyes held, the street lamps above them flickering to life in the growing darkness of the night. Tommy shrugged, that was fair enough. Taking the boy’s cue, Dream patted Tommy’s shoulder, giving him a quick good luck wish before taking a few cautious steps into the lobby of the building.

A smile ghosted Tommy’s own features. He needed only one thing before he could peacefully get to sleep tonight, or so he hoped.

Wilbur’s name came easily on Tommy’s phone screen, it was pressing the call button that really took the mental will.

Chapter 21: The straw that broke the camel's back

Chapter Text

Silence dripped through the air like rain falling from the sky. Blade said nothing, Wilbur said nothing. Neither wanted to break the silence. The unsaid words between them were enough, they were hard and accusing… And Wilbur knew they needed to be saved for tomorrow. Whatever yelling and blaming and harsh, harsh words that would no doubt come could be saved for tomorrow, but now they needed sleep. They needed time to cool their tenseness and tempers. Wilbur dropped Techno off at home, parking their family car before crawling into his own car parked neatly and alone just outside the garage. Techno only spared the slightest glance for Wilbur from the house’s open garage before waving him goodbye, a tightness to his features that Wilbur knew meant he was unhappy…or furious.

Wilbur was glad his car wasn’t filled with the same kind of silence after his brother left as he pulled away from him and Phil’s house. He didn’t want to speak, not now, he had too much going through his head, too much he had to go over before he spoke to his family again in the morning.

The one thing now that was so proud and large on the forefront of his mind was the image of that frowning, scared boy. The image of Tommy, not of the horror that had crossed Techno and Phil’s faces when they caught sight of the maskless hero. Even as he let himself take a deep breath, counting the seconds between inhale and exhale, Wilbur felt horrible. It was mocking him, that image of Tommy sitting in the back of their car, drawn up as tight as a spring ready to snap at any moment.

Never before had he felt like this. He felt guilt before, but guilt was an easy emotion compared to whatever this was. This swallowed him in a darkness so crushing and sweltering hot he had to physically remind himself to breathe. It was like judging eyes had bored themselves into the back of his skull, staining his hair and skin and clothes with the blood that followed like a physical reminder that he was nothing. That he was wrong.

Techno and Phil lived in the ice districts, a far drive off from Wilbur’s own place deep in the heart of the city. Wilbur could feel his body easing with every passing mile, though those eyes remained stinging as a constant reminder of his wrongdoings, dripping with blood on the back of his skull down his spine.

This had been the first time since that night in the dark and cold of that collapsed basem*nt where Siren and Theseus had met mask-to-mask once again. Well, Wilbur couldn’t say he loved the interaction. Tommy was nothing like himself as Theseus. Theseus was mature, confident, and he showed no ounce of weakness or fear. He was a hero, and proud to be one. Theseus had seemed so old. Even though youth traced his visible features, his movements, his voice, his tone, even though everything about him screamed that he was young, Wilbur hadn’t noticed. How had Wilbur never seen it before?

Maybe taking him back hadn’t been the best idea. Would they throw him back in the field as soon as possible? Would they quietly retire him from field work, never to be seen outside Pogtopia again? Would they lock him up in that basem*nt just so he could never see that same danger again? Or maybe they would throw him into the dreaded Pandora’s Vault given the speculation that both he and the Arctic were working together.

It was an offer of trust, Wilbur told himself, hands gripping the wheel in front of him, I needed Theseus to know I was telling the truth.

And the cost?

More of a childhood gone, certainly, and who knew what Pogtopia would do now that they have him back. Wilbur had seen the footage that was released to the media, the blurry camera showing Siren bending his body protectively around the boy. Wilbur didn’t know what they would do, how they would react to Siren placing himself firmly between a hero and sure death.

“They’re working together obviously.” A popular podcaster had said the day the footage was released four days ago, Tommy had still been passed out at that time according to Phil, so had Wilbur. “This villain and hero were known for hating each other.” A newscaster stated, “It is a tremendous change in character for Siren to now save Theseus’ life.”

It was, Wilbur thought, wasn’t it. Siren had openly threatened breaking in Theseus’ skull while reporters sat idly down the street or in crowds, who was Wilbur to say he ever meant differently then, who was he to say he didn’t mean it now? Theseus hadn’t believed him, but the public’s opinion was swayed easily.

“Maybe it’s a change of heart for the villain.” Another newscaster commented, earning a few small nods, “Either way it is, Theseus will be taking the consequences of this action, not Siren.”

He was right.

Siren would never face the consequences, but when faced with Tommy, who was far too proud to ever admit he was scared back there in Techno and Phil’s cell, he wished he was the one who had to deal with the aftermath. Siren had been caught in between a rock and a hard place when Theseus was at the Arctic’s place. He could keep him there, save him from the inevitable backlash from Pogtopia, or he could try and prove one more time to the boy that he really did owe him, and that his own life didn’t mean so little to him.

Wilbur had died once before and–

His phone rang. A chime in the silence of the car, breaking the reverie that had settled thick in the dusty air of his vehicle.

He was pulling into his driveway now, the loose concrete from years of use, crunching like gravel under the car’s wheels. It was most likely Techno, calling to tell him their next plan or something of that sort, that, or Phil. No one else called him so it was either those two or a scam caller. He rolled his eyes at the thought.

He didn’t really think as he picked up his phone, set his car into park and clicked the release on his seatbelt.

“Hello?” He greeted, letting himself out of the car and clicking the lock button on his keys, satisfied to hear that happy little beep from the vehicle.

“Wilbur…” said a tired voice,, the accent throwing Wilbur off guard.

“Phil?” he guessed. “What do you need?” he muttered distractedly, shuffling through his keys looking for the one splattered in yellow, blue, and red paint that opened his door. But the voice was higher than what Phil usually sounded like, and the weariness sounded chronic, as if it was a part of the voice and always would be.

A sigh crackled, the sound nearly getting drowned out by the clinking sound of Wilbur’s keys as they clacked against the door handle. “No it’s—” another sharp release of breath, “It’s Tommy.”

The air became cold as Wilbur felt his blood freeze in his veins. That’s something no one really talked about, was it? The cold of blood in your veins. It’s a physical thing, it makes you shiver and freeze. Your brain enters a flight or fight mode and you are only aware of the one thing in front of you, and for Wilbur, that was Tommy, voice quiet and crackling across the line.

“Tommy.” The name was numb in his mouth. Theseus, who he had seen not an hour before. It was Theseus.

But Wilbur was himself now, not Siren. He took a breath, straightening his posture before he opened the door to his house, that ice in his veins amplifying with each step. Why was he nervous now? He was just thinking about the boy, wanting to see how he was doing! But even though the thoughts skittered across his brain in a faux sheen of protection, Wilbur couldn’t help feeling the guilt of every action he had taken towards Theseus–Tommy, in the past day coming back in full force. The lies he told, and the eyes that carved themselves into the back of his head afterward.

He was relieved to hear the boy, that much was true, just the sound of his voice over the line was a reminder that maybe he hadn’t done everything wrong. “Tommy, are you alright? You sound tired, I can—”

“I’m sorry I haven’t spoken to you these past few days.” Guilty were the words that stained the air black and blue around them.

***

“…What?” A ghost of speech.

There was an uncomfortable shifting across the line that anyone would have been able to pick up on. Tommy bit his lip in response to the sound, “I haven’t been coming to the library, I thought I would tell you why.”

Silence, yet again. Tommy would’ve thought that Wilbur wasn’t even listening If he hadn’t heard that sharp intake of breath following his words. A few moments passed, and when Tommy was sure that Wilbur wouldn’t respond, he began explaining, but the man’s voice interrupted only a second later.

“It’s a long story but—”

“I was going to ask you about—”.

Tommy couldn’t help but chuckle at that, waving a hand through the air as if the man across the line could see it. “No, go ahead and interrupt me you prick, it’s not like I was saying anything important.”

“You never have anything important to say.” Wilbur quipped right back, and that was all Tommy needed to let ease drip through his shoulders. He was here, this was Wilbur. This life of his was set separate from the one that was waiting for him once he hung up this call. “But no,” Wilbur continued, “you go first.”

Tommy took the invitation easily. He had come up with an excuse moments before the call, just something to let Wilbur know that he had been okay, even if the memory of his breaking arm speared through his mind with every second he moved the damn thing. “I was out with my guardian.” He stated, and there was truth in there. He had been with Dream, hadn’t he? “Just hanging around town for a couple days.”

Wilbur laughed easily on his own across the line, the noise a relief in the cooling night air. “You don’t live with him, that’s right.” And though he didn’t mean them to hurt, the words stung Tommy nonetheless. He did wish he lived with someone, the quiet of his apartment was nightmarish in the dark and lonely at best. “Did you go to his place?”

Tommy settled a hand on his hip, looking up into the light polluted sky above, speaking with Wilbur suddenly feeling like more of a chore after the man’s unintended hurtful words. Tommy didn’t want to hear anything more about the things he couldn’t change, even if Wilbur didn’t say it with ill intent.

“Yeah.” The words slid into the strained air around Tommy, “Yeah it was nice…” he thought for a moment, and before he could even process the next words they were spilling from his lips. “Missed you though, big man.” A pause before more words leaked into the air like dye in water. “It wasn’t fun, Wilbur, I broke my arm.” He bit his lip, the truth stinging like blood coating his mouth.

And yet, was this relief dragging through his veins now? In the light of a confession he could bring to no one else. “It healed pretty quick but I had to re-break it ‘cuz the bones fused wrong.”

A sharp breath echoed through the phone’s speaker, “I’m sorry Tommy, that sounds painful, you good now at least?”

Tommy felt his throat tighten. Was this what normal people did? Did they tell their friends about their problems and just rant about life? How could Tommy know, he carried death with him like a phantom limb, it stuck to his ligaments and muscles with every person he healed and it was just exhausting. “Yeah, that’s the downside of my healing abilities I guess,” a half hearted chuckle echoed across the building walls around him, “But hey, if I didn’t have those your dumbass would probably be knee deep in medical bills because you did something reckless.”

“I forgot you healed me back in the library.” The words came slow, like the event hadn’t meant much to Wilbur in the grand scheme of things. Once again the words hurt, digging themselves into his side like a parasite. “You’re right though, I’d probably be dead.” Another laugh before the man’s voice crackled over the receiver. “Would you believe me if I said I owed you?”

I owe you Theseus. My life belongs to you. You don’t understand the debt I owe to you, you never will. I owe you whether you believe it or not.

Wilbur’s words were Siren’s then, and the two bled together in his mind, staining his eyes with blood and fog. “Don’t say that.” The words were sharper than before, they cut off the laugh that continued to ebb from Wilbur’s throat. “No one owes me anything.” he snarled.

“No need to say it twice.” Wilbur didn’t sound offended though there was a sure shift in his tone of voice, like he knew he had gone too far with the words. Tommy himself had to remind his body that he was out of danger, this was just Wilbur, and Siren was long gone, the memories of his words and actions branding themselves deeper and deeper into Tommy’s brain with every passing second.

Wilbur and Siren were not the same, they couldn’t be.

“But really Tommy,” the seriousness of his tone brought the boy back. “Are you alright? You sound stressed.”

Tommy felt stressed, “I’m good.” And for the first time in his life those words that slipped from his tongue felt like a complete fib, there was no truth behind them, no hint of reality.

It even sounded like a lie to Tommy and he felt ashamed.

Damn Wilbur, in all of his smarts and gifts, picked up immediately on the tone, on the lie that oozed from Tommy’s mouth like slime. “Are you sure?”

It was a damning question, anyone who was ever asked the question before knew it would be.

Tommy just bit his lip. What? He couldn’t tell Wilbur what really happened, what he was sure would haunt his waking and sleeping hours for years to come: the breaking and rebreaking of his arm, the look of pure hate from Blade as Tommy lay his hands on Siren to heal him once more, the way Angel had promised to pluck his eyes from his skull like the dirty bird everyone said he was.

“I’m fine, Wilbur.” The words came out harsher than he intended, fueled by fear of everything that had happened and desperation to keep his secrets, and even though he bit his lip after they came from his mouth, he did not take them back.

Wilbur spoke, with a tone as soft as budding flowers in the springtime, “You can come to my place if you want, I know I never want to be alone while–

“Just…just drop it Wilbur.” Tommy snapped. He didn’t know what made the rage rise in his system then, didn’t know why all of a sudden all the tension that had built up in his system over the past few days was now being released at Wilbur, the only person who didn’t push Tommy. Well…didn’t usually push Tommy.

The release of tension felt good, and once it started, Tommy couldn’t stop it, just wanting to get the steam out of his system so he might just feel a little bit better after the hell of a day he just had. “You couldn’t understand, you never would, Wilbur. Sure, I’m just a kid, but you forget I lived through the revolution as well, I can deal with my own problems myself. I did then, and I do now, so just–just leave me alone.” It was like all his thoughts since the day he bottled them up started flowing, a hate and hurt that really had nothing to do with Wilbur attaching itself to the very idea of the man.

Wibur’s voice was not desperate, nor angry, he just sounded like he was stating facts. “Tommy, you can’t just internalize things, it doesn’t work out, trust me I’ve tried, and–”

“I don’t care what you think I can and can’t do, Wilbur.” Tommy didn’t recognize the words on his own until they caught in his throat along with years of unshed tears from pain and knowledge that this was it, life wouldn’t get better than this, but it could get so much worse. When they started flowing it was like a floodgate had been opened. The words came quicker now faster and harsher they had more of an edge to them. “You’re a simple person” Tommy said through his teeth, the words hissing and grating against the air like steam from an engine. “You live your life, you have your father, your brother, and who knows how many other people standing behind you waiting for you to fall so they can catch you back up in their arms. I’ve had nothing my whole life, nothing, no one. Even with my guardian I am completely and utterly on my own.”

Wilbur was trying to interrupt then, his words catching just in the slightest even at the harsh tone. They still weren’t angry and Tommy hated that. “Tommy, you don’t understand you’re just a kid come on–”

Kid. The word stuck to him, it clung to his skin and ate at his bones like the very word was made from acid. “I never got to be a kid, Wilbur. I was never a kid, it was always just me and even when I was a kid nobody wanted that shell of a person.”

“Tommy–”

The name clawed at his skin, breaking into the marrow of his bones, and it hurt. Something inside of him snapped. Wilbur still didn’t understand, he would never understand, but maybe—

“I’m leaving, Wilbur.” Tommy said and they both knew he meant more than just the call. “I never wanna see you again. You see something in me that I’m not, something that I’ll never be. You’re trying to project that on me until that’s what I become.” And then the rage built again and Tommy couldn’t feel his hands as they shook, wrapped around his phone. In front of him Tommy saw the crazed, smiling, laughing face of Siren mocking him in his lowest moment. It was like the villain knew he was doing this to himself.

“f*ck you Wilbur.”

And he hung up.

The sound of the click shocked Tommy. For some reason he hadn’t expected his words to push and drive their receiver to the edge, but here he was. For a moment he thought Wilbur was still on the phone, that that click had been nothing more than a trick of noise across the walls around him.

It was not Tommy who stopped the call with his raised emotions and sharp words, it was Wilbur.

It was stress, Tommy told himself as he slowly lowered his phone from his ear. It was a way to make himself feel better by releasing all that tension from the time of his capture on someone he was sure wouldn’t leave…thought wouldn’t leave.

Silence echoed back at him mockingly from around the streets, bouncing off the quiet walls of the damning buildings looming over him from around the street.

It was good, he told himself, looking down at the blank screen of his phone like it would light up again and cast Wilbur’s name comfortingly in white across the screen. But a second passed, then another, and Tommy finally thought that just maybe he had gone too far.

How fair was that? Yelling at someone who was just a bystander in all this, someone who looked at Tommy and just seemed to understand everything. Tommy didn’t think much more, he didn’t want to, instead he turned off his phone in a plea for silence. He didn’t need the distraction, didn’t need to keep his eyes on his phone in the hope that Wilbur would call him back. He didn’t think he deserved that right now, didn’t think he wanted it, and Tommy was too stubborn to call Wilbur back himself.

Tommy took a deep breath, turning his moist eyes to the city sky above, pretending there was no hurt behind them, no regret hidden in the crevases of his mind, because what right did he have to take off his emotions on someone who didn’t deserve it, someone who had been nothing but kind to him?

He had been on the receiving end of that kind of anger years before, why was it all coming full circle now?

“Later.” He whispered to himself, “I’ll call Wilbur later.”

It wasn’t fair of him, it hadn't been fair of him but he needed to take out his stress somehow, and if not on Wilbur, who else? It was unfair, sure, but what else could Tommy do? There were other ways, he knew there were. He was just looking for excuses to justify what he had done. Pogtopia was gonna lock him up anyway, maybe this was the best option. Sever ties with Wilbur before he comes back to look for him.

Pogtopia was going to keep him away; they knew that he was too valuable to let stray around given the chance that he might work with Siren, too valuable to get hurt in the field should he really have been captured. History repeats itself, doesn’t it? Tommy turned his blue eyes to the navy blue sky as the sun no longer let up the atmosphere above. For a moment he was sitting in the foster care system with its freezing air and dark rooms. Look how far he was now from those warm hands and that warmer voice. At least freedom this time just lasted a little bit longer. He should be grateful, shouldn’t he? It was Dream that had kept him out in the field for such a long time, Dream that had kept him protected for so long, Dream who made sure Polgtopia would not hide Tommy in the basem*nt, even if he himself wanted them to.

Inevitable, the word came to mind strong and harsh but true.

What else was he to do? Tommy didn’t let the cold water to the rims of his eyes change his stance on what he had done, especially as he looked back down at his new shoes, scraping them around in the dirt like they had something to tell. But that was Wilbur. At least now nobody in the above ground would remember him, not in the ways that mattered. He was a ghost up here, he always had been, and he always would be.

***

Dream welcomed Tommy back into his house; he always had an extra key into Tommy's apartment. Tommy couldn’t say after the argument he had with Wilbur that the sight was welcome. He avoided eye contact, noticing how Dream's smile dropped from the corner of his vision as he did so. What would he even say, Dream I just had a fight with my best civilian friend all because I didn’t think I was ever going to see him ever again. That said, is Pogtopia going to lock me in their basem*nts for the rest of my life?

No, Tommy couldn’t say that. Instead he kept silent, dropping himself on the sofa in a way that he hoped looked casual. But even he felt too stiff for the movement to be anything but a forced, uncomfortable, sway of movement.

“They were going to give you a trial.” Dream said after a bit. Tommy’s eyes snapped to him then, but the man was looking down at the floor and the shoes that he dragged across the floor. Tommy had cleaned that floor days before, obsessively cleaned it, so that he might forget everything that happened in the alleyway with Siren as the man leaned in close and whispered with those honey slick words that he owed him. Tommy didn’t believe it then; he hated to say that he believed it now.

“But I got a call while you were outside.” The sound of cars buzzed beneath the window, a sound Tommy was happy to cling because everything else was so silent around him he could only hear his heartbeat echoing through his ears and ragged breath ripping through his lungs. “It was going to be tomorrow when you got back– I begged them to make it tomorrow but–” He took a deep breath in, letting out a sigh that sounded just about as tired as Tommy felt. “Tommy, you know I would do all I can for you, that I have and–” A pause before the man stopped his fidgeting in a harsh movement, it looked as if he had been frozen in space. “That’s all they let me do though, they want you back now, Tommy. Do you think we can do that?” It was a question, though they both knew he really had no choice. But Dream had to make sure that he was okay with going back to dealing with Pogtopia right now, just as he had gotten back from his capture. They wanted the information while it was fresh in his mind. They wanted to know if he was a traitor, they wanted to lock him up as soon as possible. They didn’t want any chance for escape.

Chapter 22: Trial

Chapter Text

Pogtopia must have really needed Tommy because Dream had the two of them get ready fast. He told him to grab everything he could carry in that little backpack of his: clothes, a toothbrush, anything Dream found valuable in the rickety apartment Tommy called home. Tommy didn’t know if he would ever come back, he didn’t know if he would see this place even one more time considering how desperate HQ was to get them to head to Pogtopia. The idea that he was leaving his apartment didn't excite him this time, he would leave the silence of his apartment and the stifling quiet of his room for the bustling hallways of a Pogtopia. He would leave the familiar noises of his neighbors living their lives for the constant chaos the medbays in which he worked before. It wouldn’t be hard to get fully settled into Pogtopia since they always had a room set aside for him there, didn't they? They always wanted him to stay forever as their prized possession; he was something they could never give up.

Dream locked the door behind them as they shuffled out of Tommy’s apartment, the lock of his apartment door clicking as Dream pushed the door closed. The click echoed against the walls of the apartment complex, and Tommy was sure he wouldn’t hear it again. The door locking used to be a comforting sound, one he always looked forward to whenever he got home. It was odd to hear it like this. It felt different hearing it now, like the click was the toll of a bell, notifying all of a man condemned.

They took the elevator down, Dream tapping his foot against the floor, hard metal echoing against the walls, flickering lights of the small metal box buzzing in the night. Neither of them said a word. Tommy could tell Dream was angry, but he knew that anger wasn’t directed at him, it could never be. Dream was mad at HQ. Tommy could always tell when Dream had it out for them, even though he almost always followed their orders to their fullest. This time, however, it had to do directly with Tommy. Dream especially hated that.

If Tommy hadn’t already known of Pogtopia’s desperation to get Theseus back, the slick black car that awaited the two of them outside of Tommy’s building would have confirmed it. Dream opened the door for Tommy, crawling in on the other side. They couldn’t see the driver through the thick black mesh that separated the front and back seats. The driver didn’t give them time to settle in, didn’t even say so much as a greeting, they just took the car out of park and began driving. At least Pogtopia was fun, or, at least there was always something going on there. Everyone he knew was in Pogtopia, and it wasn’t like there were any civilians besides Wilbur who really knew Tommy. Tommy almost scoffed aloud, what was the use of living in the civilian world anyway? His job wasn’t there. It was Pogtopia, ultimately, that defined who he was. Being off the streets wouldn’t be fun, but it’s not like that was anything new. At least Tommy would always have something to do.

Tommy had nobody up here that really cared about him. He had just blown it with Wilbur, was that his intention to begin with? Cut off all ties with the only person he knew on the surface so he would be able to slip away effortlessly, not gripping onto anything that might draw him back, anything that he might want to cling to?

He would miss the sunsets though.

The thought hit him hard. He would miss the sunsets. When would be the next time he could see a sunset, uninterrupted by Pogtopia? Uninterrupted by HQ? How could he let those golden rays, the pink, blue, yellow, and orange of the sky slip through his fingers like they never existed? How could he ignore the look of that gold when it had been that same gold that had leaked from between the cracks of the god’s mask when Tommy first saw him? How could he forget that gold when it was that same gold that had reflected in Wilbur‘s eyes the day Tommy had brought him up to the rooftop of the library? How could he ignore that gold when it looked at him with such curiosity, such knowing that Tommy hated it.

But what could he do? He was sixteen, he couldn’t convince Pogtopia of anything. Whatever they did, they would say it was in his “best interest.”

Tommy stopped the thoughts then. He didn’t want to think of the future now, what was there to think about? He would be in Pogtopia for what? Five years? Ten? Until they had a reason to send him out to the field again? Would they finally send him out if Dream died? That was another thing Tommy didn’t want to think about: what if he wasn’t there for Dream? What if Dream died while he was out in the field? There were so many times when Tommy was there seconds after an injury to pull Dream back into the land of the living. What would happen now? Would those villains ease up on his mentor now? They wouldn’t, Tommy knew that for sure. Maybe they would go all out on the man now that Tommy wouldn’t be there, kill him while he was at his weakest. Tommy didn’t want to think about that. Perhaps Pogtopia would do something different, like not lock him up for eternity so he doesn’t have to watch his mentor die.

The ride was bumpy, and Tommy was tired. Dream told him he had been gone for four days now, Tommy’s call coming to him on the evening of the fourth day. The Arctic had not sent out any ransom note, hadn’t given any demands or anything for Tommy’s return. Dream said he was afraid they had taken Tommy’s life and just hadn’t told them yet. He thought they were just waiting for the right opportunity to throw his head at Dream’s feet just to watch him mourn. It was a relief when Tommy called, but by that point the damage had already been done. The public thought there was something going on between Siren and Theseus. Pogtopia couldn’t help but pick up on the same signs. Siren had held him so carefully, with his body twisting to catch that bullet before it could strike Tommy’s calloused and hard skin, worn from its years of fighting. Tommy thought back to when Dream showed him the footage of him and Siren. After circling the Internet for days, the clip had provided more than enough evidence for people to theorize on what really happened, to ask if Theseus really was a hero or if he was working for the other side in this never ending war. Tommy couldn’t believe it at first, he was dumbfounded that people could believethat he, Theseus, was now teaming with the Arctic. But the footage showed it clearly, Siren looking frantic as he desperately twisted around Tommy’s body. He didn’t even seem to care as the bullet hit him. It was the one thing that made Tommy believe Siren owed him a debt. The one thing that made him believe Siren. And he hated it.

Pogtopia was somehow closer yet further away than Tommy remembered. The drive was long but too short, it felt like minutes wasted. Nonetheless Pogtopia was there waiting for him at the end of the road. A small group of people stood outside waiting for them, some Tommy recognized, some he didn’t. All of them had a strange expression to them, a look of betrayal but also a look of pity. Tommy didn’t find comfort in either look.

Sapnap stood in front, his own face mirroring that of Dream’s before the two of them left Tommy’s apartment. tFear, pity, even. Tommy didn’t want to know what the older man was thinking. Next to Sapnap was Hannah and Boomer, of course Headquarters would call them in, as far as HQ knew they were the closest to Tommy outside of Pogtopia. If anything was going on surely they would know, or at least Tommy was sure that’s what the higher-ups thought. Maybe it was arrogance that the thoughts didn’t hit him until just now, he was going to trial, trial, and he was sure he would not be walking out of Pogtopia anytime soon, no matter the results of his case. They needed him, and Tommy hated to say that he needed them as well. He wasn’t sure, however, they needed them like this, trapped and kept ‘safe’ in the depths of a building, as if there was no other option.

White fear slithered strong through his body like floss knitting around his bones, in his veins, and cutting off his organs from each other. Real, this was all real, it all had been. It was Blade that broke his arm and re-broke it to heal it, it was Siren who protected him from that gunshot, and it was Angel who promised to eat his eyes out, staring into Tommy’s soul like he had one to give them. However, it had also been all three of them that brought him home, that was why he was here. Their generosity cost him his freedom. Or at least he was sure it would.

A few of Pogtopia’s general guards stood in the front, one held their hand out for Tommy, their face covered in one of those generic HQ masks that Tommy never really thought twice about looking at. The mask was detailed, little vines of black circling the faceplate, the only part visible of the actual guard was their eyes, sharp and uncaring, even as they watched Tommy, bare and without his hero gear walking toward the entrance of the building. Dream batted the guard’s hand away, sneaking his own arm around Tommy’s shoulder possessively. Tommy knew the action well. Dream was not going to let anybody set a hand on him, not now, and definitely not during the trial.

Boomer and Hannah did not betray looks of pity or questioning, they just stayed silent watching as Dream led Tommy inside. The rest of them shuffled in behind them.

They found their way to the courtroom with rushed steps and tight breaths. Pogtopia always had a courtroom they used for the most violent felons; there was no escape from the courtroom, not with the reinforced walls and powered security guards. There was nowhere he could go either, not that he would even try to run.

Dream let him go at the entrance, shifting Tommy forward into the defendant’s seat, making sure to sit right behind him so Tommy knew he would always be there. Dream would never leave his side and Tommy would never leave Dream’s. There was some muttering, some shuffling, but eventually, within a few minutes it all settled down and Tommy felt cold blood running through his veins. He wasn’t guilty of siding with villains, he knew he wasn’t. Dream knew he wasn’t either, Hannah and Boomer could vouch for Tommy, too, but that was not going to stop the court from keeping him in Pogtopia. They had taken a scare when the Arctic took him, a scare that would not be easily forgotten. This wasn’t something he was just going to get a slap on the wrist for.

Any way this went down, Tommy would be staying in Pogtopia. And if worse came to worse, HQ would throw him in Pandora's vault, for safekeeping if nothing else. Pogtopia valued him too highly, and it was too much for him to handle on his own. He felt the pressure of it every day weighing down on his shoulders, pressing down on his head, twisting his spine and tearing his lungs apart. Speaking of the vault, if it wasn’t Sam up there on the judge's platform, looking down at him over that gas mask, charcoal black eyes seeming to look nowhere and everywhere at once, glaring deep into Tommy’s skull.

Tommy knew Sam for a long time, since he first came to HQ, since Dream first dragged him to headquarters. Tommy couldn’t say Sam was like an older brother really, not like Sapnap was. Sam was Sam, he was an engineer, a genius. He was the Deadelus of their time. He had fun with his work and didn't spend a lot of time outside of his workshop. Yet here he was sitting in the judges seat staring down at Tommy with that look Tommy had only seen on the Warden's face. When Sam was the Warden.

It was a frightening sight for anyone to see, but Tommy specifically hated it. It was the hardest side of Sam. But it was necessary. The Warden was the role Sam played in Pandora’s vault, as its engineer and its builder, and who else was fit to run such an establishment? While the Warden was still Sam, the role of the Warden that he played was so much more serious. The prison, after all, was a serious matter. The prison housed L’manberg’s greatest criminals, the worst of the worst, and when Sam dawned that eerie gas mask, he wasn’t the fun and joyful and happy Sam that Tommy knew. It couldn’t be, that could never be Sam.

The highest members of Headquarters sat around staring down at Tommy in the defendant’s seat. He had no lawyer, why would he need one? He was a hero, he was supposed to speak for himself, he was supposed to know the law. Even if he was sixteen. Tommy wished they were whispering, wished that any of them said anything, but they all just sat in silence like snakes waiting to strike. Dream shifted behind him uncomfortably, Boomer and Hannah made no noise from where they sat further back into the room. Tommy couldn’t help but feel the cold shiver of the room crawling through him, biting into his throat, and tearing out his breath. He wished to be anywhere but here, in this cold and silence.

“Theseus,” The name echoed throughout the room, and if the room hadn’t been silent before, it was suffocating now. Tommy felt like he could hear the blood rush through his veins, like he could hear his breath, like he could hear the swallow he made against the dryness of his mouth. “You were called here under accusations of deception against our Hero’s association and Pogtopia.” The words rang throughout the room, bouncing off the walls, the members of headquarters murmuring in assent.

Tommy never had a trial before, he had been in this room before of course, but it was never him sitting here. It felt so different, being the one in the spotlight. It felt so different being the one under judgment.

Tommy didn’t know if they wanted him to speak, didn't know if he was supposed to say anything. All the defendants before when Tommy was in here before hadn’t said anything, they just sat and stared. They had looked broken then, did Tommy look broken now? Sam continued however, his voice loud and menacing, slashing deep wounds in the silence of the room.

“Siren, well-known villain and member of the Arctic, saved your life. Do you know why he did that, Theseus?”

Now it was his turn to speak. His mouth felt dry, his brain light, he never felt this kind of feeling outside of the field before, it was like panic but sharper, raging on in his mind and pulling on his skin. He didn’t show anything on the outside, but in his mind he was feeling everything. “I don’t know.” Tommy stated, the words feeling monotone in the air. “I think he did it of his own free will.”

There was some more mumbling at that, and Tommy caught some harsh words from the seats above. They didn’t believe him, or at least some of them didn't. Sam didn’t look at the members of HQ, he just looked back down to the paper in front of him as somebody in the corner Tommy didn’t recognize wrote something down, Tommy catching the movement from the corner of his eye.

“How were you captured, Theseus?” Sam asked next, moving past the first question quickly. They must still be desperate to lock Tommy away in the depths of Pogtopia to be rushing trial.. Tommy shifted on the cold leather chair that sat under him, nerves spiking at the thought.

“Blade broke through the door in the basem*nt.” Tommy started, sure that these people knew the layout of Quackity and Schlatt’s base. “I tried my best to hold him off, but Blade took a hold of me and broke my arm as I tried to get free.” It felt silly, now like the two of them were just kindergartners playing on the field and one kid had accidentally caused the other to trip and fall and break their arm. The memory was anything but childish especially with the ghost of pain that snaked through Tommy’s arm at the thought. Through the hot embarrassment, Tommy continued ignoring how childish the sound of his voice was in the cold of the room and against Sam’s deep voice. “I managed to escape,” Tommy continued, hating the shake in his voice. “I managed to light the files on fire, I know how important they were. I just thought it might be better to let them go then have the Arctic get their hands on them.” He swallowed. “I ran after that and made it to the elevator, but when I got there Siren was inside, and he told me to sleep. After that, I woke up in their base and they had me heal Siren from the gunshot.” The memory of the video of Siren taking a bullet for Tommy rushed through his mind like white hot fire. He would say that the thought didn’t shake him, but he couldn’t help but look to the floor. He had healed Siren from a wound a man got from saving him.

A life for a life, he supposed with a humorless breath. “Siren told me he owed me for saving his life.” The words didn’t reveal anything that happened in that basem*nt in the ice districts, they could easily mean the bullet wound. Tommy had saved Siren from that, after all. “So he brought me to my home.”

“Siren knows where you live?” The words came sharp and surprised from behind Tommy. He whipped around to see Dream, hands clutched tight around the wood of the defendants box. He had his mask on now, but Tommy could still see the look he had behind the mask, the shock, the betrayal.

“I don’t know how!” Tommy replied with urgency on his lips.

But he did know. The lie was stale on his tongue wrapping around his throat stinging behind his eyes and stuffing cotton in his mind.

Because this was a lie.

Tommy continued though, turning back forward to face Sam again. “I called Dream immediately,” He stated, emotion creeping back into his voice. “And now we’re here.”

And now they were here.

It was the full story, they hadn’t asked for it but they would have, Tommy knew that much. The man in the corner was writing things down furiously and Sam was taking a look down at the papers in front of him, calm as ever, eyes glued to the parchment. “Are you working for the Arctic?” He asked, the words condemning in the room.

“No.” Tommy replied, hating the shake in his voice. He knew they would remember it, knew it would sound condemning to them even if to Tommy it was nothing.

“Have you ever thought of working for them?” Sam continued, eyes still downcast to the paper, ignoring Tommy right in front of him. Sam was the one who made Tommy’s masks and scolded him when he broke them over and over and over. He had been almost like a father to Tommy at one point. That was before Tommy knew the Warden, before Tommy knew all sides of Sam.

“Never.” Tommy’s voice was strong then, the words feeling heavy.

“And do you think they’ll be after you?”

“I–” and Tommy hesitated, the worst thing he could’ve done in that moment, because that hesitation said everything that they needed to hear. The Arctic would be after him, they all knew it. Sam, Dream, Sapnap, even Hannah and Boomer shifted uncomfortably in their seats behind them. Sam finally looked up, those black filled eyes tinted with green and flaked with gold staring down at him, piercing into his soul.

“Theseus.” The word felt harsh against the air, so demanding. “Do you think the Arctic will be after you?” They needed an answer, Tommy needed an answer as well, he didn’t know for sure but if he were to guess –

“Yes.” It was a damning word, it was the word that tied his fate. And as if they needed clarification he continued, “I do think they’ll be after me again.” If there was any chance he would’ve been let go, any chance he could live back in his apartment and work back in the library, it was gone now.

Sam closed his book whatever book was in front of him shifting with a finality in his seat. “That covers it then.” he stated, eyes flickering to the room around them, to all the members of HQ who looked hungrily down at Tommy like he was something they owned.

“Theseus,” Sam’s voice rings shrill through the room, catching everyone’s attention. While there was no murmuring now, Tommy could feel the buzz of excitement throughout the room. “You will have to stay in Pogtopia.” Tommy had expected that, “You will continue to work your job here. You will not interact with any villains even if they come in for trial. We cannot risk losing you to them again.” Not as expected, but still understandable. “And for now, we will need to separate you from your mentor indefinitely.” The words lay still in the air.

“What?” Tommy questioned, the word so soft he was sure no one heard it.

“If it is you the Arctic is after, they must be after your mentor as well. Everyone has use for a healer but, moreso everyone needs leverage against one of the biggest heroes.” Sam looked up, meeting Tommy’s eyes over the gas mask. “We cannot let you become that leverage. If we keep you two separated, the hunt will die out. They’ll no longer look for Dream through you, and you both will be safe.”

It didn’t make sense, Tommy refused to entertain their reasoning. He snapped his head to Dream then, looking over the back of his seat, but Dream's eyes were downcast as he stared at the hands in his lap. He would say something, surely he would say no, speak up against them being separated. They had each other for so long. Dream was everything to Tommy surely, surely, he wouldn’t stand for this.

But Dream said nothing, he continued to look down in his hands, in the background Sam adjourned the court. Muffled voices sounded then, but Tommy couldn’t focus on any of them, not even the hisses of the laughter of a trial won. He just looked at Dream.

Eventually it was Sam who led Tommy from the court, a gentle hand on the boy’s back. Tommy was too proud to fight back then, too proud to look over at Dream and see that last look of sorrow on his mentor’s masked face. Because this time It was Tommy who was betrayed. They said nothing to each other.

Sam led him to his new place of residence. They grabbed Tommy’s things on the way from where they had been set aside in the hallway waiting for the trial to be finished, waiting to go with him wherever they sent him.

Tommy didn’t want to think. Was this Siren‘s fault? Had this all happened because he healed Siren that first time? Had he brought this upon himself for doing what he did? He didn’t know, the trial drained him, he didn't want to think, he didn’t want to even remember how his mentor just let him go.

It’s not forever, his brain told him they only said for now. That was true and yet, Tommy felt a dark pit in the stomach open. If he had stayed with the Arctic would things have been better? He shook thought aside, the Arctic had caused this controversy to be raised against him, it was them who caused the distrust. Or could he have done anything to make it better?Was it all his fault? Why hadn’t he done anything? The thoughts did Tommy nothing.

He entered his new room after Sam opened the door for him. It was plain white like an asylum, no decorations, and no character to it at all. It looked like a prison. It reminded Tommy of the bedroom at the Arctic’s place. Tommy couldn’t find it in him to care. Dream would’ve decorated it with him.

How long will they be separated?

Tommy didn’t know. So as Sam closed the door behind him, a muttered goodnight that didn’t reach Tommy’s ears, the boy curled on his bed and waited for the world to turn to dust around him.

Chapter 23: Escape?

Chapter Text

It was cold here, Tommy expected it, but he didn’t like the feeling of the freezing of his clothes to his sweat soaked skin. He looked through frozen eyelashes to the spark of sunlight that echoed through the broken floor above. And something twanged in his chest at the look, it felt so down to earth, Tommy wished he never felt that kind of feeling before, but he knew this feeling all too well, the feeling of déjà vu.

He didn’t know what he expected, didn’t know what he would find here or if he would find anything. He just needed somewhere to go, and what better place was there than here: where it had all began. He shifted a bit now, the sweat from running earlier freezing to his skin with a cold that followed. But he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Couldn’t even find it himself to look up to the man he knew was waiting for a response. Tommy would not give him the satisfaction.

Stone scraped against his calloused hands, his gloves long gone from the hours before, as he had fought and clawed his way out of that wretched building. Even now he couldn’t see if it was worth it or not.

He remembered this, the stone, the broken concrete, the metal shards that poked through the walls and clawed into the air like they had their own little hands. With a pang of soreness he crawled across the floor, as he put his hands on his greatest enemy, the memory of the event sharp in his mind, especially here. Could Tommy really say it was his greatest enemy now though?

He kept his eyes closed and ghosted his fingertips across the rugged rock beneath him. He wanted to just sit and wait until the world became dust around him and he needed to do nothing more than just breathe. In and out. The breaths came freezing, the air cooling his lungs.

What could he say? he didn’t want to say anything, didn't wish to relay any information, didn’t need anything to be done. He had given up everything already. If he had given up everything then why was that man behind him waiting for Tommy to speak.

The freezing of his eyelashes together ruined him so fitfully that one night. He passed out then, would there be a problem of falling asleep now? Drifting into the cold and staying with it forever? Maybe his spirit would haunt this place if he died, maybe it was fitting.

“Theseus.” The word was more demanding now, a harsh name against even harsher air. How come the place hadn’t been cleaned up since then? It had been a while now, hadn’t it? Tommy didn’t remember, the time seemed to go by so fast yet far too slow. It has been planned, that little voice in the back of his head was saying, it spoke to him as clearly as the god from the outside had that one annoying day. That voice had not haunted him, not until now. He hadn’t listened to it before, he didn’t think he ever would listen to it. He even looked past all the warning signs that ignoring that god’s voice brought around.

Tommy would be stubborn, he wouldn’t be Tommy if he wasn’t, now would he? So he stayed silent, running the pads of his fingers across the jagged stone beneath him, remembering everything that happened that night.

Tommy wished he was passed out now, the thoughts came slowly, as if they reached his brain through molasses. Why was being present in the moment so difficult? The boy squeezed his eyes closed tighter against the cold, cold air. He had nothing to see here, nothing to say. Unknowing does bring comfort. He thought this before, he couldn’t say that he disagreed with it now. Ignorance was bliss.

“Thomas.” That was the word that snatched Tommy from his thoughts. He pushed himself off the rock behind him, feeling cuts open harshly on his fingers from the rough stone and the fast movement before stinging with the contact.

What brought this about in the first place? It was now that Tommy was facing the man who caused this all to happen that the thought raged in his brain like a caged beast.

The man was kneeling down in front of him now, giving Tommy the upper hand, like he wanted Tommy to feel comfortable in this position. Tommy didn’t want to give the villain any kind of satisfaction so he too lowered himself onto the ground below, eyes raking over that veil the man wore, the gold veins glimmering in the little sunlight that leaked into the room. Tommy leaned back, fingers again brushing against the stone and ice kissing the tips. He brought his hands closer to his chest, he was too tired for this. Surely he could deal with this later,.

But he knew he couldn’t.

So he opened his eyes, looked into the veil that Siren wore as he stared at Tommy.

***

Tommy was alone, he remembered that. Remembered the cold of the room, the blankness of the walls, the look of his tiny little backpack leaning against the wall, a backpack Angel had given to him. He laid on the bed then, he didn’t think he would get much rest later in the night so he would try for sleep now. They needed him didn’t they? It wasn’t like Tommy would be seeing Dream anytime soon either, so whatever ended up happening, he would not be getting his mentor by his side.

The ceiling was plain, boring but at the time Tommy didn’t expect a lot from Pogtopia and their underground base. On the lower floors where Dream lived, the homes were nicer, more livable, then again that was for real heroes wasn’t it? And Tommy was not considered a real hero. He was just a healer, and now, to Pogtopia, he was just someone who had been captured by the arctic. He was a liability, something they couldn’t lose, something that they needed more desperately now than ever.

But it was expected, wasn't it? The unexpected was dangerous, it held oaths and debts that no one ever really wanted, did they? On one side or another at least. Tommy could find comfort in the fact that he knew this would happen, and the fact that there really wasn’t many other options, and this was one of the better ones.

Still, Tommy closed his eyes tightly against the outside, not wanting to see the room around him, the betrayal of it stung. What had Dream done if not betray him. Tommy had seen the look on his mentor's face when Sam had stated that he and Tommy will be separated indefinitely. Looking back on it he couldn’t remember the pain in Dream’s face, did he just imagine it? They’ve been together for so long, they were partners, Dream and Theseus, an inseparable duo. Even before that it was Dream who pulled Tommy from the streets, Dream who gave him a job and a real home, Dream who was like a brother in the darkest moments of Tommy’s life. Then again, Dream also stuck to the rules, Tommy shouldn’t have been surprised that he sided with Pogtopia. He wouldn’t have told Tommy of their plan to separate them, why would he? Why would Tommy need to know then, he would find out eventually, right?

It still stung though.

What had Sapnap thought about it? Had Dream told him? What about Quackity? What would he say now that Tommy was locked away in the depths of Pogtopia? Tommy knew he would have nothing nice to say about the Headquarters after that. If anything, the man might try and break him out, make him live in Las Nevadas, and Tommy would be trading one prison for another. The question was, which would he rather stay in?

His thoughts came and went like this as the minutes passed, sleep too far away for even Tommy to catch it now. He rubbed the palms of his hands into his eyes until he saw colors drifting in his vision. He couldn’t sleep, didn’t know if he had the ability to anymore, so he kept his eyes on the room as he twisted to his side, dragging his gaze from the ceiling. This was just like the place where the Arctic put him. It was cold here too, although here there was no two way mirror and instead, a camera sat in the corner of the room ever watching on Tommy’s back.

What was new?

The room was smaller than where he usually slept. There was a desk at the foot of the bed, twin sized, of course, Pogtopia couldn’t waste any room. There was a chest of drawers right next to the head of the bed acting as both storage and a nightstand. It felt like a college dorm room, not that Tommy ever expected to go to college but he’s seen one or two dorms in his time as a hero. It was wild what students got up to in there.

Tommy really didn’t know what he expected. Sam acted as a judge, and seemed like a right punishment, didn't it? But none of it was his fault. Had that one moment in the basem*nt really jump started everything up to now? Had his empathy brought him here? Was it a punishment he thought laying back on the bed and staring at the blank ceiling above him. He did this in the Arctic’s room too. Both of the ceilings were different, though they were painted with the same textures. They were wavy, the one at the Arctic’s place had been more rough, like the ceiling to a child’s bedroom, Tommy had seen enough of those to understand they were all the same. The ceiling here felt like the ceilings that were in hospitals. It was smooth with lights sticking down every once in a while through the white of the ceiling.

He dug his palms into his eyes again, seeing spots felt floating through his vision like wax in a lava lamp. “Why?” He was speaking to the stale air around him, his voice the only noise in the silent room. “Why?” He didn’t know who he was asking, he didn’t know why the question came so furiously into his mind. Pogtopia was all he knew, Dream, Sapnap, and Quackity were the closest Tommy ever had to real family past that soft voice and warm fire from the dawn of his memories. What kind of life would he have had if whoever that was had kept him, if he had stayed in that home forever? Who would he be now? He still questioned, if he would have saved Siren then too.

Predestination, Quackity once said. It was a philosophical idea that everything in your life was planned out before you were born.

Even if Tommy had stayed in that warm home with that soft voice and a memory that could never leave, would his saving of Siren have happened no matter what?

Tommy was wasting his time now, what did he have to do? Did Pogtopia want him to do anything as he waited? Did they want him to just sit down here staring at the ceiling, just waiting for them to come and get him?

The boy lay a hand on the chest of drawers next to the bed pushing himself up into a sitting position. He yawned, the events of the past four days finally catching up to his body. He took one more look around the room. Four days. Tommy was shocked when Dream told him. The Arctic really let him sleep in their basem*nt for four days without waking him. Then again, it wasn’t like they could use Siren at that point to wake Tommy back up. But they had needed him enough to wake him up to do whatever they needed, whatever they wanted. In the end, they just wanted Tommy to heal Siren.

It was strange, and Tommy hated it. He squeezed his eyes shut now, not wanting to look one more second at the room beyond. They were a family, and for some reason Tommy hadn’t expected for them to love each other, to beg Tommy, or threaten him into healing Siren.

Would Pogtopia do that for him?

The thought wasn’t sudden, it didn’t come out of nowhere. Tommy hated to admit he thought the same things before. He let his eyes wander across the ceiling one more time before he lay back on the bed, unable to do anything else.

Pogtopia had always been an updated version of the streets, hadn't it? It was rough, they used him till he was run dry and waited for him to be back up on his feet before they ran him into the dust once again.

Tommy hated the thought.

Tommy didn’t have an ounce of trust to give, not anymore, especially not after what Pogtopia had done to him, what Dream had done.

They would need him soon enough, Tommy thought grudgingly, curling into himself on the mattress, hugging his legs tight to his chest and burying his head in his knees. He squeezed his eyes shut and begged for sleep.

But sleep never came.

It wasn’t seconds later that the door clicked open, crushing any hopes Tommy had of a rest before HQ would be needing him. But the footsteps that crossed the floor were fast and light, whoever they carried gave Tommy no time to rise from his position before they gripped his shoulders with panicked hands, turning the boy to meet them.

It was brown eyes that greeted him, eyes Tommy knew too well, they looked orange in the sun and burned with an urgency Tommy had never seen before from the man.

Tommy’s hand clenched in the sheets of his bed as this new person held his arms, the boy looking up at him in confusion. “Sapnap?” The word was a surprised gasp, and it only took a few more seconds for Tommy to gather himself, push through the initial shock of seeing his friend so close and in such a panicked manner.

“Tommy.” The word stood rough in the stuffy basem*nt air, breathy and full of panic. “I’m getting you out of here come on.” He tugged on the boy’s shirt, and the little bit of force was all Tommy needed to snap from his initial shock and move. Tommy also recognized the distinct “I” that Sapnap used in his sentence as he shoved his shoes on and rose to his feet.

“Just you?” Tommy questioned the word, heading to the door right on Sapnaps heels, not needing a word of encouragement to follow after the other boy. Tommy and Sapnap had fought together enough in their lives for them to fall into step with one another instantly.

“Well…” Sapnap let the words melt into the air, giving a pointed look over his shoulder to the camera that sat in the room, and another look to the ones down the hall. “Let’s say someone not here wasn’t so happy to see you were going to be kept inside,” He took a pause before beginning to run down the hallway, Tommy right behind him. “Q wasn’t as enthusiastic about what happened as some others were, and, well…”

Tommy didn’t need Sapnap to finish, he knew the man’s relationship with Quackity, with Karl. When Q and Karl fell out, it was Sapnap who had stuck by both of their sides, Sapnap who felt like he owed both of them in the midst of what happened. Sapnap felt like he owed Quackity most of all.

He lay a hand on Sapnap’s shoulder, a silent voice of reassurance in the dull light of the hallway. Sapnap took it, and didn’t continue on, he had said enough for both of them to understand.

Sapnap took one breath, and that was all he gave himself before he uttered a quiet “Come on.” They didn’t need this, they had enough to deal with now, and relationships whether standing or crumbling wasn’t what should be on their minds. Tommy supposed that the whole reason they were sneaking out in the first place was because of the boy’s barely standing relationship with HQ. He didn’t want to think of what this could mean for his relationship with Dream.

Tommy had always been a wild child, unpredictable, he wouldn’t sit by idly, not when Sapnap was giving him a chance at freedom. He had defied Dream before when he first escaped out into the field, even then he wouldn’t sit around in Pogtopia. Tommy was a feral animal stuck in a cage and Sapnap was opening the door for him to bolt.

They snuck through the halls quickly and quietly. Tommy knew this feeling, there was a kind of thrill to sneaking around, something that just pulled on your core and dragged you into a state of mind that only relied on instinct and action. It was this same feeling that brought Tommy out into the fields in the first place.

His mind dropped at the thought that it was also this feeling that had pulled at his every nerve when he heard Siren calling for a family member that would never hear. This was the same feeling that relinquished all hints of mercy yet dragged his brain into a softness and understanding that pulled him to tug that villain into his arms and make sure he lived.

Stubbornness. That’s what Dream told him it was. Quackity said it was a sixth sense which everyone possessed, something that dragged you to do what you were always meant to do.

Predestination.

It always came back to that. Your fate, already decided, already planned out.

Tommy bit his tongue, maybe that God of the wastelands was right. Maybe Tommy couldn’t change anything, maybe in the end, everything was planned out by the god. They just liked to see the world burn around them, liked to see what they could do, who they could influence.

The hallways were silent around them save for both Tommy and Sapnap’s hurried footsteps. Run, Tommy’s brain whispered to him in a voice that was almost tangible, get out of here.

Tommy had been through all these halls before, he lived here, worked here, and when he was younger, there would be times where he played here, wandering the great halls of the underground in search of an adventure. It felt odd seeing the hallways now, they looked like they were looming over him as opposed to the comfort they had been for years. Seeing them now with the dim lights reminded the boy of just how far underground they were, just how far still they needed to go up for Tommy to even think about leaving this place.

Time skipped by quickly however. Sapnap took cautious looks around every corner, hyper aware of the cameras that dotted every hallway, the cameras that both he and Tommy knew would be damning evidence on Sapnap’s part. Tommy couldn’t help but hesitate at that thought. Sapnap would likely be punished for this, he was seen as a lesser hero, but the punishment most likely wouldn’t be more than a slap on the wrist, but still, Tommy had to admire how Sapnap didn’t care enough about the punishment to not help Tommy out.

The boy supposed the hold Quackity had on Sapnap was what was driving the older boy; Tommy could understand that at least. Quackity was an older brother, someone who always had something up his sleeve for anything that went wrong. Quackity was smart and slick and quick and devious, but he cared so, so much and in such a way where he made sure no one knew the passion he had for such things. He could never let anyone he cared about be held against him, so he pretended to care about no one, his passion shaded and wiped away with quick hands and dry eyes.

Tommy wouldn’t lie, there wasn’t a lot he wouldn’t do for Quackity either, so he understood Sapnap’s drive.

The two boys were on the top floor before Tommy knew it, though now his heart beat loudly in his chest, and he swore he could hear panicked shouts from down the hallway.

Shouts that were drawing closer with every second.

They exited at a back entrance from Pogtopia, a usually locked door that led to an alleyway set in between the upper part of Pogtopia and a government office building owned by president Schlatt. In the alleyway between the two dirty walls of the buildings sat a rather rickety motor bike, rusted with age and slightly blue from the paint that used to adorn the thing. A helmet sat crooked on the cracked leather seat, and Tommy watched with weary eyes as Sapnap took a few energy-filled steps down to the vehicle, picking up the old helmet with gloved hands and tossing it to Tommy, who caught it with little energy, he grimaced at the gross feel of the thing.

“It’s unregistered.” Sapnap stated, and suddenly the state of it made sense to Tommy, “It’s marked as totaled by the government, but it was the best I could find for you to…” The words sunk into the air.

Tommy didn’t need time to stand there and look at the worn down bike, not as he was on edge and he was sure those voices he had heard from down the hallway were exponentially closer than they had been.

Sapnap seemed to have the same idea, tossing Tommy the keys for the bike and not hesitating to step away from the vehicle as Tommy hopped on and listened to the sputtering engine roar to life.

“Don’t go home.” Sapnap’s words were quiet over the roar of the bike’s engine, “Dream didn’t want you to leave Pogtopia either, he’ll be looking for you everywhere he can think of.” Tommy bit his lip, swinging the backpack of his few things over his shoulder. Of course Dream wouldn’t be wanting him to leave either, Tommy had said it before and he would keep on saying it until the day he died: Dream stuck to the rules, it didn’t matter what he himself thought, he would follow along with anything Pogtopia decided, even if it meant he would need to leave Tommy’s side after they had been together for so long.

So Tommy just nodded, though he had no idea where he would go if not to his home. He slid the slightly foggy visor of the old helmet over his eyes, giving Sapnap one last nod before kicking off the ground, and riding the bike down the alleyway and into the awaiting street. Just in time too, it seemed. Tommy spared one last look down the alleyway during his turn, just to see the backdoor of Pogtopia swing open, Warden Sam standing tall in the darkness of the door frame before he turned sharply to Sapnap, still alone in the alleyway, eyes looking in the opposite direction of where Tommy had driven off.

Tommy didn’t look back again.

***

The air grew colder as Tommy drove through the streets. He was going the opposite direction of his house, the further away from there, the harder he would be to find, right? Still, the opposite direction of Tommy’s house was the Ice Districts. It sat far from uptown and the president’s house, but it was as much as L’manberg as everywhere else within the walls, even if its residents said differently.

Cold stung at his cheeks, and Tommy understood too late that he should have at least found something thicker to wear if he was going out to hide in the Ice Districts, surely this would be the last place Dream would think to look for him after all. Hiding in the obvious places so people wouldn’t expect it was a dying tactic, too many people used it now and enough of them were caught for Tommy to know he needed to go far.

But it was cold here, the temperature reminded him of a far less pleasant happening outside the walls of L’manberg. Gold dripped from his own eyes in his dreams now. It slid down his own throat and solidified itself, stopping the boy from breathing as that god continued to laugh and laugh, saying this was far from the worst of it all.

The god reminded Tommy of Siren before that night, where the man would tell him to hold his breath until he was seeing stars, where the man would wrap black claws around his throat and laugh as Tommy’s own blood got caught beneath the nails. That was the Siren who would laugh like the worst was happening and once, on a very cold night when Tommy was fighting the Arctic by Dream’s side, had pulled that veil of his down the slightest bit just so Tommy might look the man into those murderous eyes before they swung into their own fight.

The image of the sharp eye haunted him and Tommy bit down on his lip hard. Without a second thought, Tommy turned down a sharp alleyway, looking through the frost dusted streets for a recognizable landmark he could use to get where he was thinking of.

He took a sharp right turn, and they a left, speeding up as the street widened in front of him. Tommy didn’t know what he was doing, he didn’t think he could bring himself to care now, not even as his bike drifted dangerously on the black ice that covered the streets. Going into the Ice Districts on a motorized bike wasn’t the smartest idea, but then again, the stupidest thing he had done today was leave Pogtopia, so he needed to find some way to top that.

Sliding to a stop, Tommy looked over some long ago placed caution tape that fluttered flimsily in the breeze into the rubble beyond.

He didn’t give himself the time he needed before getting off his bike, setting that helmet of his nicely on the seat. He combed a hand through his hair, feeling the cooling sweat on his head from having just taken off the helmet.

He only managed one deep breath before his body forced him to duck under the caution tape and into that collapsed building beyond, into the very place where all his troubles had started.

***

The crunch of gravel and broken stone under Tommy’s tennis shoes was familiar in the still standing part of the building. He listened to the whistle of wind against the broken stone and concrete of the building above, closing his eyes for just a second, unable to imagine that he was anywhere but here.

The building was just as he remembered it when they walked in for the first time, having gotten a tip from an anonymous concerned citizen about Arctic activity in the area. Dream was in front of him at the time, Sapnap close by his side, radiating a kind of heat that Tommy inched closer to in the cold of the District.

It was peaceful in there until Blade jumped out, surprising the lot of them before he struck. Angel and Siren hadn’t been far behind, Siren taking one glance towards Tommy before he struck, his veil shifting with the wind to one side, showing off a cruel eye staring over the villain’s black under-mask before he went in for the kill.

Tommy couldn’t remember what happened next, he didn’t know if it was a too rough hit from Blade or a sharp burst of flame from Sapnap, but the building shook beneath their feet, and it was Siren and Tommy who felt the world shift beneath them, Siren and Tommy who fell into the opening chasm to the building’s basem*nt.

Tommy saw an opening now, past ghosts of slashes in the concrete from Blade and hints of black scorches on the light frozen walls. The boy’s fingers brushed against these marks now, a reminder of the past that he wasn’t sure he wanted to see. Still, his eyes moved from the scars of fire and weapons on the wall to the chasm that stayed, stretching down into the depths of the building like it had always meant to be there. Tommy got closer then, looking around the edge to find his own way down.

The trip was rough, but eventually, after a few minutes of stalking the edge of the broken building, Tommy found an entrance point to the collapsed basem*nt. He was able to squeeze through a crack and edge himself down the loose rocks, metal, and concrete that lay in a downward slant from the top.

It was day now, but even the time change did not make the bottom of the building unrecognizable to Tommy. A cold feeling rushed through Tommy’s brain at the sight, but he still felt unfazed by the collapsed room in front of him.

He had dreams about this place, nightmares where he would wake up to bloody hands and bloody sheets. Siren was always in the nightmares, luering Tommy over with calls to a father who then in his dreams, did not exist. The pity Tommy felt in his dreams was indescribable, and the relatability he felt was far from comforting.

Sunlight dripped with its golden rays right on the spot Tommy remembers lying. He remembered that it was that night he saw the moonlight from the same angle, silver and cruel in the cold of the district.

His feet crunched on the broken stone. Why was he here? That simple thought of Siren felt like a string attached to his chest that just kept on tugging harder and harder until he was where it wanted him to be, and that place was here.

It was so quiet, save for a drip, drip, drip that Tommy remembered from that night, like the ice that was melting would never stop its rhythm. He stepped further into the area, sparing himself a hand on a metal bar above him so he might not let himself fall with those loose rocks beneath his shoes. Eyes raking the area, they fell on a rough patch on the ground, blood, old blood staining the area around it like it was some messed-up painting.

Tommy took one step closer, then another, sliding down into the spot and letting his fingers run over the dark stains.

This was where Siren had lay.

It felt like a museum exhibit now, it had sat undisturbed for so long.

“You’re here?” A voice, alarmed but familiar cut through the air. Tommy refused to turn at the sound, continuing to let his fingers run over the rough stone.

It was Siren, because of course it would be. Tommy co*cked his head to one side, opting to not give Siren the satisfaction of the boy looking back at him over the shocked words. “Don’t have anywhere else to go.” Tommy felt the words tumble from his mouth, no emotion behind any of the haunting syllables.

“You could’ve–”

“I could’ve what?” Tommy snapped now, standing from his crouched position and whirling on Siren, fully dressed up in uniform and standing straight behind him. “I couldn’t do anything.” Tommy scoffed, running a tired hand down his bare face, feeling the ice that formed on his eyelashes snap away with the little movement. He remembered suddenly that he had nothing on him, having left all weapons and his hero gear on his backpack on his bike, sure no one would be this far into the Ice Districts to care.

Tommy turned back around, crouching yet again so he might run his calloused hands against the broken rock. He felt like a child having a tantrum here, curled in on himself and staring at the ground with warm water pricking at the corners of his eyes.

“Theseus.” The name was soft, kind, and left enough room for Tommy to not respond to it. He was tired, he didn’t want to do anything else today, he didn’t even think Siren would be here, if he had then he wouldn’t have gone in the first place.

“Theseus.” The name was harsher now on the villain’s tongue, it held some of his power but what would Tommy be forced to do with a name. It was just a warning.

Still, Tommy ignored the name, squeezing his eyes shut against the darkness of the basem*nt. He still had pride, he may not have a place to go, or anyone standing with him now, but he still had a kind of stubbornness to him that he had since his first days on the street, since even before.

“Thomas.” His name rang across the collapsed stone, and Tommy was taken back to that night where Siren had first found him on his way home, voice sharp with that promise on his lips that Tommy hadn’t believed until so much later.

The boy gritted his teeth, and stood. He finally turned to face the villain, in the same place where it had all begun.

Chapter 24: That feels like a low blow

Chapter Text

Wilbur knew he was one for dramatics, he always had been. Since his days in the revolution he had learned that the only way to grab people’s attention and hold it for as long as needed was by putting on a show. And he had done it, he had used theatrics to fuel a revolution, to lead it until its bitter end. Dramatic, sentimental, in the end it was all for the narrative, a story no one would bother to retell.

After Theseus had saved him and Wilbur had done anything to find the boy, he had come back here. It was during sleepless nights, or restless days he found himself in his car, driving aimlessly past the old ice sheets. He always ended up here.

He would walk around the upper floors of the building, eyes light and flickering up to the moonlight or sunlight that drifted through the cracks in the building. Sometimes when it was dark out, the metal that poked through the walls and stuck through the floors looked like hands grabbing out from hell. They reminded him of his own claws, sharp and rough and ready to kill if anything got too close. It was dangerous, but still he found himself here, looking down at the cracked concrete and roughened edges of old, broken windows.

During those times he would kneel where he had once laid, where Theseus had held him, healed him, until he could move once more and the boy could not.

Dramatic , he would think to himself in those times, So dramatic .

Years had passed with Wilbur fighting and clawing and killing to get where he was now, years since the people of L’manberg forgot him. He had been their leader once, but he could never have a hold over people like Schlatt did, and the people of the Country still thought him dead, well, those who remembered him at least. Only a handful of people remained now who knew where Wilbur was, who he was. They thought him dead, he had been dead for a time before that cruel god brought him back to rest in his begging father’s arms, giving him one more shot at life but this time in a world that did not know him.

After all, his death and leadership were paved over by Schlatt the moment the war ended.

Wilbur couldn’t hold enough hate in his body for that deceiving man, not when it had been his betrayal that left Wilbur as yet another nameless soldier who rose up to bring their great land its independence.

He had given his all to build his legacy, for people who would remember him as their leader, someone who had cast the god away so they may live a peaceful life away from that ever watching eye.

He looked over the gray stone and the colorless, bare, building around him, running his fingers over the scorches across the walls from that reckless hero they called Ember. He would be remembered for something else, he decided. Schlatt took over his role as the leader of the revolution after Wilbur’s death on the battlefield. He had blown up miles of the camps of the undead that the god used as his soldiers, sacrificing his own life in the process.

I will be remembered as a hero , he had thought then, flame and heat consuming his body, embers melting his skin until he could feel nothing but the burning fire on his bare nerves. I brought them this .

But no one saw the explosion, no one knew it was him who took out the majority of the god’s forces. And then Schlatt took over, and with most of the god’s army gone, the man was able to exile the being out into the wastelands beyond.

The people remembered that, they had seen it.

That cruel god knew what would become of Wilbur if he brought the man back, of that Wilbur was sure. And if Wilbur knew anything, it was that the god brought him back intentionally, to see the fruits of his labor wasted and forgotten. When brought back to his pleading father on a ride which took his mind along like a bird clinging to the top of a moving train, Wilbur felt hollow. He was back, finally, but it was Techno who broke it to him that he came back to a land that had no remembrance of him. They didn’t even know how he had died.

So he switched the narrative.

No one remembered a hero, not when their partner in war, their second in command betrayed them, told no one anything about what they did for the people. And if heroes were not remembered for their sacrifices, sacrifices that meant everything to a war that wagged for years, then surely someone who caused as much chaos as that god would be remembered.

Fingers slipping from that black stained wall, Wilbur continued to drift through the wreckage.

The cold brought him back to earth, slipping beneath his suit and freezing his skin along with the bright dry air. He didn’t love the cold like his father and brother did.. They had lived in the cold for years, running an empire in the far south before they came to L’manberg.

Techno and Phil had lived for a long time, however, their immortality did not reach Wilbur. They were able to play it off as Wilbur aged, becoming older in looks than Techno; he had been a child, then a brother, aged as time went on. Techno was forever older, but the three of them in their family didn’t know anyone who would care, anyone who would notice. Wilbur would always be a younger brother to Techno, even if the man had stopped aging physically early in his twenties. The man was twenty to Wilbur, though he held so many more years under his belt, years he didn’t want to share with Wilbur, even as he grew.

Techno was old, Phil was older. They had arrived in this land years before the L’manberg revolution, and claimed their own area in the place that felt like home to them. Wilbur thought they would never leave that familiar embrace of the cold. Wilbur, however, had been born into the warmth of the inner city, and he had lived in that summertime warmth until Phil took the boy under his wing.

“ Sometimes that’s how life goes. ” Phil had told Wilbur once, the two of them looking out over the god-watched city. “ You’re alone and then suddenly there are people looking out for you, and you need to look out for them in turn .” Wilbur said nothing then, as the words had already buried themselves like ticks under his skin.

Very few people looked after one another, and Wilbur had to admit that he saw more of a loving, caring community when it came to the so-called villains of L’manberg than he saw within the heroes’ ranks.

That’s why Theseus had affected him so. The media labeled him and Siren as nemeses, and Wilbur had agreed wholeheartedly. Theseus was a nuisance, it was him with his useless powers who kept Wilbur away from the more important heroes so he couldn’t use those siren-like powers of his to sway the tides of battle in his favor.

“Look out for them in turn.” Wilbur whispered into the cold air.

His fists clenched at his sides and he turned sharply, walking down the next broken corridor of the fallen building.

Theseus was hard to look after though, especially when the person behind the mask was some kid who had never before experienced a real friendship in his life. Wilbur almost laughed, the sigh he let out instead bouncing mockingly against the bare walls around him. The moment Theseus, Tommy , did experience that kind of friendship, that kind of bond with someone, he had ignored all the red flags.

What was that saying about rose colored glasses?

Wilbur was supposed to be a civilian, he was supposed to look after Tommy on the normal side of the world. He was supposed to watch sunsets with the kid, go to his favorite restaurant, and come to his house with his favorite food and a movie. And somehow Wilbur had messed all of that up.

He walked into the boy’s workplace half delirious with open stitches just to apologize for not giving him a ‘normal’ night. He had followed him home after work just so he could tell Tommy from behind his mask how much he owed him. He had messed up so badly, so often, and Tommy still acted as if he didn’t suspect a thing.

Ignorance , a part of Wilbur’s brain hissed to him, He wants to believe that there is a normal in the world .

And that was on Wilbur, he supposed, he had been the same as a kid, outgoing and strong, keeping all of his weaknesses close to his chest until someone older and more caring came into his life and promised peace. For Wilbur that was Phil, and for Tommy, for Theseus, that was Wilbur, not Siren.

But Wilbur couldn't keep this from Tommy forever, it must have been denial running through the boy’s life now, Wilbur knew it, he was sure Tommy thought the same and would finally realize who Wilbur was soon enough.

Maybe that was why their conversation over the phone had hit Wilbur so hard earlier. “ you see something in me that I’m not .” The words stuck, and they had pulled at his mind like a lie, though he felt the truth in them with every syllable. It was those words that numbed his mind to whatever the boy said next, each sound hissing through the air like a warning off a snake’s tongue.

So he hung up.

Wilbur wasn’t one to let people speak down to him, he never had been. From the day he started the revolution to the day he died, no one could speak down to him because he was Wilbur Soot , their respected leader. Even after his revival Wilbur built a new persona no one would dare disrespect. To the city he was a villain, but never did he hear his name spoken in the streets without a hint of reverence.

The name struck people, Siren , one of the most powerful beings in the city, known and feared by just about everyone. His name was uttered over the news as a warning to avoid certain streets. Over the radio, people would say the name with an almost sort of reverent breathiness and a quiet that stroked the arrogant part of Wilbur’s brain.

Everyone knew Siren, but he couldn’t help the thought that snuck through his mind in the crumbling building that he wished it was his own name said in those same places, a different kind of quiet sneaking along every spoken word. He wished they said Wilbur Soot , remembering the one who started their trek to freedom against the battered god.

So much time had passed since then, but Wilbur still gripped with blacked claws and bloody, torn fingers at the title, at the person everyone had forgotten. He was replaceable, he learned, Schlatt filled that place he left and no one remembered him. He was lost to history, and those closest to him during the revolution didn’t even tell his story.

He was nothing, and he couldn’t live with that.

So he became something else, someone else. Time could not forget him this time, his story would be told no matter what, given the destruction he caused to the country that forgot him, the destruction he wrought on the people who moved on without a second thought after everything he’d done for them.

Tommy had given Wilbur something different to think about. There was a kindness to the boy, a kind of loyalty that drew Wilbur toward him. Those who were loyal remembered you, those who were loyal passed on your story, they cared .

It was selfish, Wilbur knew it was, but that crave for an undying loyalty was stronger than the guilt that followed.

Wilbur paused his steps, leaning his back against the closest crumbling wall and sliding himself down to sit on the floor. He closed his eyes against the cold of the air, feeling the smoothness of his gloves as he rubbed his hands against each other.

Theseus brought sense and nonsense into Wilbur’s life. The boy did what he was supposed to but he also turned behind his mentor’s back to do what he thought was right. He was stubborn, and closed off and so, so tired. So like Wilbur at that age.

When Wilbur was younger, he heard someone say that they wanted children so they could raise them the way they wished their parents raised them, Wilbur wanted that for Tommy. He wanted the boy to live out his younger days and be remembered. As of now he was just a sidekick to the city’s most powerful man. Everyone knew him, yet if one day he were to disappear, it wouldn’t be him that was remembered, but his mentor, Dream.

He would be more like Wilbur than he already was.

Wilbur cringed at the thought, knocking his head back against the concrete wall behind him and opening his eyes to the veil that covered his face and the crumbling world past it. He couldn’t ignore how alike he and the boy were, not when their lives mirrored each other in a way where Wilbur thought he was watching himself grow up and not Tommy. And yet he needed to stop projecting on the boy. Tommy could always tell, Wilbur could see that the boy could read other people’s thoughts and movements better than he could read his own. The world had raised him like that, and he would keep that cursed skill for the rest of his life.

Maybe that’s why Wilbur continued to come here, he thought, eyes flickering around the bright edges of his surroundings where the sun peeked through the cracks in the ceiling. He wanted to get into the boy’s thoughts, because the only thing Wilbur couldn’t understand about Theseus was why he spent his own energy, his own life to save someone who relentlessly promised him a death so painful and horrible he would continue to feel the pain into his next life.

Wilbur could never do that, he understood as he stumbled from the collapsed ruins of the basem*nt, gasping for breaths that came too easily to his newly healed lungs. They were yin and yang, two sides of the same coin, and yet Theseus only held brightness in his steps. Wilbur had never, could never.

If he knew anything, it was that this world was cruel and it only had a short memory. This was a lesson Wilbur would be sure to drill into the mind of Theseus. Wilbur had learned it the hard way, Tommy would not.

Tommy listened to Wilbur. Wilbur was the new moon to Tommy’s sunset. Tommy was all brightness and colors and a well hidden hope that he showed to no one. Wilbur was unseen, forgotten until he did something just as bright as that stark sun resting on the horizon.

He had to laugh to himself in the silence, the sound disappearing through the cracks that littered the building. A smile spread across his face, hidden still by that black and gold veil and the mask that sat underneath. He was dramatic, wasn’t he.

The truth of it rippled through his system, and for the slightest of moments, so fleeting one would have blinked and missed it, Wilbur wondered if what he was doing to the boy was wrong, if shaping him and grabbing at the attention that Tommy gave so easily was not the right way to go about ensuring Wilbur would not be forgotten again.

But the moment passed. I’m right , Wilbur thought, standing from the dusty floor, I always have been.

***

Silence hung thick in the cold air between the two of them, Tommy fully focusing on the man in front of him, that villain who had nearly been the end of his life so many times.

Death was close, yet so far from Tommy. He saw it every day in others but was unsure if he himself would ever experience it, or if this damned power of his would keep him alive forever. Tommy was too scared to test the limits of his powers purposely, leaving his limits to be found by the villains he fought

The boy grit his teeth at the painful memories, shoving them away into the back of his mind, content to never think of the pain of breathing through blood-filled lungs and writhing from the agony of fractured and broken bones.

Thomas , Siren had said, it was his name, Tommy’s name, and it did not belong inside Siren’s mouth, not after everything saving the man had brought Tommy.

“You say my name like you know me.” Tommy finally replied, Siren standing up from in front of him, his stance screaming I’ve won , and he had, hadn’t he, Tommy had caved and responded to him.

Siren shrugged, whisking past Tommy and leaning down to run his gloved fingers over his old dried blood, still prominent on the floor. “I know you in some sense, Theseus,” the villain said. It caught Tommy off guard, the way Siren kept switching between his names as he addressed him..

That’s his plan, Tommy knew, to throw him off guard and keep him stumbling so he could never know what was coming next . He ground his teeth together hard, feeling them squeak together in his mouth as he turned to face Siren again.

“Unfair that I don’t know you.” Tommy stated, the words coming flimsily to his mouth. He hated the way they didn’t sound confident on his tongue.

Siren didn’t look towards Tommy, keeping his back facing him though he stiffened in the slightest. He was silent for a moment, and Tommy hated the kind of vulnerability he was showing Tommy, trusting him to not stab Siren in the back while he couldn’t see. So Tommy stepped further away, straying into the one bright ray of sunlight that seeped through the cracks. Once again Tommy felt vulnerable here without his mask, arms wrapped tight around himself against the cold like they were any kind of comfort at all. “Well, we are around each other a lot,” Siren stated, raising a gloved hand to his chin.

Tommy only rolled his eyes, letting out a mumbled “I wonder why that is.”

Siren went on, ignoring the blatantly sarcastic words from Tommy. “We’re similar, you and I,” he said, standing from his spot and twisting to face Tommy. The man rubbed the finger pads of his gloves together, a ghostly reminder of the blood that had just touched. Tommy hated how much the words reminded him of his last conversation with Wilbur. “You’re blind to those similarities, blind to just how well you know me.”

“I kind of don’t care.” Tommy stated, jumping up and propping himself on a sharp outcropping of fallen stone, swinging his legs beneath him.

Siren laughed, but there was no humor in the sound, only a metallic pang that the man’s voice changer created. “Why are you here, Theseus?’ the man asked, the voice beneath the twinge of metal monotone to the point Tommy wondered if he, too, was nervous. Maybe Tommy’s presence was throwing him off as much as his presence did Tommy.

“I’ll ask the same thing.” Tommy turned his nose up like that would make him any taller than the villian who already towered over Tommy, despite the ground Tommy had on the man as he sat on the broken concrete.

The two stared at each other for a moment, Siren refusing to look away from Tommy, and Tommy doing the same out of pure spite. Sunlight reflected from the bright concrete beneath the two of them against Siren’s mask, lighting up those gold veins so they looked like the same kind of blood which leaked from the exiled god’s mask. He didn’t like the similarities he felt between the two of them, not while he was trapped down here, with nothing to do but listen and wait until he could leave without fear shoving its way down his throat.

Siren broke first with a tight shrug that made Tommy loosen up a little. It wasn’t like Siren was going to hurt him or anything, Tommy supposed, the man had made that clear enough. “I come here all the time, actually,” he began, gesturing his arms at their surroundings. He spun dramatically with his arms out, head tilted toward the broken ceiling, that veil fluttering around his face. “This place is a reminder, a way I tell myself that maybe I was meant to live.” He looked down and pulled the veil away, revealing one sparkling brown eye. Tommy looked away quickly, ignoring the bright familiarity of the look. A chuckle followed after him from the movement, and Siren started to wander the collapsed ruins of the basem*nt, dipping in and out from between the broken stone and the mangled metal of the building. “Now, Thomas ,” The name was sharp on his tongue and Tommy could almost taste the bitterness that Siren spat into the word, “Why are you here?”

Tommy thought about not responding for a moment, thought about not even giving Siren the satisfaction and just getting up to go, but where did he have to go? He came here because he could think of no other place. “I’m here because I want to be here,” Tommy snapped if he were a wild animal. He regretted the tone the moment Siren snapped back to him, sauntering from in between two fallen slabs of concrete that were wedged in the floor from their fall.

“Theseus, I have a feeling you never want to be anywhere.” The tone suggested the villain was rolling those brown eyes beneath his veil, brown eyes that were so unbelievably familiar. “ Why are you here? ” The words came out as a demand, stuffed to the brim with those persuading powers, the bastard.

Tommy clamped his jaw shut and held it tight for as long as he could before the words were forced from his mouth as if they were being dragged by a thread up his tight throat. “I have nowhere else to go.”

And his voice sounded pained, like all the hurt he had felt over the last few hours was culminating in his chest. He bit his bottom lip, but the words still had their hold on Tommy, because that wasn’t all, now was it. “They–” He closed his mouth sharply again, but the words burst forth like water from a broken fire hydrant, “They were going to keep me there, they couldn’t risk someone with my abilities getting away, so Sa– Ember broke me out.” He felt weak, and now instead of the words feeling forced from his mouth, they just felt nudged, eased. “I couldn’t go home, I couldn’t go to my workplace, so I came here, because I have nowhere to go, I don’t have anyone who cares enough to listen to me.” He bit his lip and found himself shaking with rage or fear or hate, he didn’t know. He just looked down, locking his eyes on his shoes, the very same ones that Angel had given to him such a short, yet long time ago. “So I came here.”

He whispered those final words, hissed them as the command finally lost its power over Tommy’s throat.

He had had enough of listening to others, enough of being pushed around by everyone because they thought he was just broken, because Tommy knew better than anyone that nobody wanted a broken kid.

Nobody wanted him.

The sting of heat from that fire had left him when he was young, he had been handed around so many times while he was in the system. He felt in control on the streets, and he thought he could finally have that stability when someone he could care about entered his life, but apparently he couldn't trust them to keep him either.

Siren was silent then, and the quiet of the room felt like a physical thing.

Tommy couldn’t look at the man in front of him, he didn’t even want to move. He felt so vulnerable now, forced to speak his truth by his greatest opponent, the very reason he was here with nowhere else to go in the first place“You really had nowhere to go?” The question stung, yet floated into Tommy’s ears as delicately as the wings of a butterfly.

It felt too soft.

Tommy shook his head, not trusting his throat enough for him to let out steady words.

“You can’t just stay here in the ice districts.” Tommy hated the truth that Siren spoke, and he hated the words that came next even more, “You could come with me, come to our place, it may not be ideal, but if you really have nowhere else to go…”

Tommy was already shaking his head, looking anywhere but at that glimmering veil.. The villain was acting as if seconds before he hadn’t forced Tommy to lay all of his vulnerability bare for his enemy to see. He was acting like they knew each other better than they did.

Siren shifted as the wind howled, whistling against the broken concrete that towered far above them.

He still had Wilbur’s address saved in his phone, just waiting for Tommy to plug it into his phone. And yet…

“I had one civilian friend,” he admitted, the words too loud in the stark room. “I don’t think I could go to him though, he’s mad at me.” For a moment he worried he’d said too much, heat rising in his face as he felt the ridiculousness of the words. He knew Siren already had to know about Wilbur, especially after that night he had confronted Tommy on the way home. The boy sniffed, his nose running in the cold, pushing away a smile that came to his lips at the thought of Wilbur, so stupid and caring. “You’ve probably seen him before, he comes to the library.”

Maybe that was a big assumption, but Tommy needed to speak his thoughts out, because he really did have nowhere to go, and there was no way he’d willingly go back to Siren’s place with the Arctic.

“Well,” Siren began after a bit, failing to bring Tommy’s eyes back to him, “if you can’t go to your friend, and you won’t come with me, then I have no option but to find you a place to stay for the night.”

Apparently he could sense the argument rising in Tommy because he cut in just as Tommy let out the tiniest “You–”

“You forget I really do mean it when I say I owe you Theseus, even more now after you healed me again at our place.” The man took a step forward and Tommy finally raised his gaze to rest on Siren’s veil where his eyes were hidden. “I’ll bring you to this friend, safely, and if he won’t take you in, I’ll– I’ll buy you an apartment if that’s what it takes to keep you from sleeping out on the streets.” He held his hand out toward Tommy, palm up in offering as he spoke.

“Oh my god.” Tommy groaned, pressing the palms of his hands into closed eyes, “How many times do I have to say this Siren , I don’t care if you owe me or whatever, I’ll do these things myself.” He let loose a sigh, the warm breath fogging the air in front of him before dissipating into oblivion, as a vague plan began to form in his mind.“If you really want to do something for me then–then stay here.”

He would go see Wilbur, and beg him to take him in if he had to, because Siren was right, he couldn’t stay out here and he certainly wasn’t just going to go with a villain if he hadn’t exhausted his other options first.

“I’ll go to my friend, see if he’ll take me in, and if he doesn’t then I’ll come back here, and I’ll figure something out–” A pause as he again looked straight into that void covering the villain’s face. He took a deep breath, already disliking his next words: “I’ll work something out with you.”

Having some plan was better than nothing, and having a plan that didn’t include relying on Siren for safety was better than that. The man had never given him safety before, and though Tommy at least believed his words he still didn’t trust he’d be safe in his arms.

“I promise you’ll have somewhere to stay, Theseus,” Siren said softly. Tommy looked up at him warily, hoping it wouldn’t come to that. With Pogtopia on the lookout for him, he could only imagine what they’d do if they found Siren helping him.

“I promise I’ll come back if I have nowhere else.” Tommy repeated, words fogging in the air.

Siren tilted his head, a slight ray of sunshine glistening off those golden veins in his mask. Tommy could tell the man was smiling under that veil of black with the next word.

“Deal.”

Chapter 25: Realization

Chapter Text

Tommy didn’t know if he was born into a world of warmth or not, because the cold of the ice districts bit at him as he crawled up the side of the fallen building in the harshest way he felt his body was never meant for temperatures like this. Gravel and loose concrete floors with remnants of moth-bitten carpet slipped beneath his boots. Tommy had a rough time making his way back to his motorcycle, but he would rather be anywhere else than stay with Siren. He had made a promise to the villain, saying he would come back here to him but only if he had nowhere else to go.

At first it was a promise he never intended to keep, but Tommy’s mind was fast, and unforgiving with the thoughts it gave him.

If he didn’t find a place with Wilbur, which was likely after their last interaction, he really would have nowhere to go, nowhere.

Quackity, in Tommy’s mind, would be the same as Pogtopia: locking him away until whatever danger he saw to the world outside was passed. He may not be forced to do anything against his wishes in Las Nevadas, but Quackity would still keep him away, the man feared something happening to the people he held close, especially after what happened to Charlie. He refused to go back to Dream, knowing how quickly the man left him to those tiny underground rooms of Pogtopia they swore were there for protection.

He thought of maybe the Ghost, Tubbo, or Foolish, but all those led back to either Quackity or Pogtopia in the end. Tommy was seriously considering just living on the streets again until he figured something out, but as dumb as it sounded, Tommy needed wifi for his plans. Plans that involved figuring out what he was going to do.

Tommy let out a long breath when he finally reached his bike, taking a seat and resting his head against the handlebar. He took in one deep breath then another, feeling the cold of the metal below his forehead as it sunk into his skin.

Going to Wilbur’s was the only option now, the only option. Everything else would lead to disaster. He knew what Quackity and Pogtopia had in store for him if he did crawl back, and he had no idea how Siren would treat him. He shivered at the thought. Maybe not knowing what would happen was what scared him the most, or maybe it was still just Siren himself that scared Tommy.

Bumping one of the handles of his vehicle with a closed fist Tommy finally sat up straight. “One step at a time.” He whispered into the thin air beyond him, then we’ll figure out what to do. The thought dragged at him, it felt helpless and small, like he, with all of his years of running around and planning and fighting, was just waiting for someone else to take the reins. He felt like he was expecting someone to save him from his own decisions when he knew deep down the only person he could ever rely on to do that for him was himself.

Pathetic, That little voice in his head said to him, and Tommy couldn’t find a way to deny it. So he let the word sink in, let it coat his skin and mind like a slime because he was pathetic. Yet again he had no one to rely on but himself, it was like his life had come full circle.

He was back on the streets again after all, and he had no one to go to, and a place he could never go back. And he had no one to blame for it but himself.

It was that thought that dragged on the back of his mind now, a thought he was oh too aware of. He gritted his teeth against it, turning on the engine of his vehicle without a second thought.

He kicked the bike into gear, only giving himself one breath as he took in that uncertain rumble of the engine beneath him before he kicked off the ground and let the bike take him forward and into the cold beyond.

***

Cold was all Techno could remember .

And he had been alive for a long, long time, though the consciousness that followed him around had only been his own for a few of those years.

He just remembered cold and blood and gold and then cold yet again.

Philza always said it was unfair that he didn’t remember the heat of his homeland, but Techno didn’t really think he missed it. The heat is sweltering, a demon once told him, carving runes into a strap of leather that he later gave Techno, a strap that was long worn off and turned to dust.

Techno didn’t remember what the leather had protected him from. Even then he felt in and out of consciousness, half consumed by the need to spill blood and half looking to rule. Both parts of his consciousness stayed with him now, though they lie more dormant than before, it was more of him in charge of his mind and less of that crave for violence and blood.

It is hell, the demon said, his delicate hands pausing on the work, fingers running over the lightly pressed runes, that’s one thing they fail to tell you when speaking about our old home.

Since then, Techno never thought about going back. He didn’t remember the place anyway, and the cold of the overworld eased his heated skin.

Wilbur had wondered about the place, however.

Maybe I went there, he said one afternoon, wrapped in layers of blankets against the pleasant chill of their house; he always was one for heat wasn’t he. After I died, he continued, as if he had to clarify. The words stung. Wilbur had asked for him to be there, so that both of them could survive that blast of tnt against the golden god’s undead army. Techno couldn’t even remember what he was doing that day, much less when and where Wilbur asked him to be. His mind was fuzzy in those days.

I don’t think there’s a train station in hell, Techno said easily back then, continuing to work on whatever he was doing at the time to distract himself. You went somewhere else. And that was the end of the conversation.

Wilbur had always been like that, curious, smart. Too smart really. That was what had caught Phil’s attention in the first place. Phil never really talked about old L’manberg, about this land when the god ruled over it with his shining golden X that stretched across the sky in cracks that looked like lightning against the red behind it.

While Phil didn’t say much about old L’manberg, Techno didn’t really remember it either. He may have been here or somewhere else. He might have been traveling or holed up in some abandoned building here, half mad as he feasted on rats and co*ckroaches. Techno couldn’t say he enjoyed the memory loss, though he was fine not remembering every detail of the hundreds of years he had roamed the land.

Philza and Techno had spent so much of their immortal lives together. There would be times when they separated, each going their own way, doing their own thing, just to come back together soon after or several years later as if the two of them were tied together by an indestructible string of fate.

They always ruled places of ice and snow. Places so inhospitable to the outside world no one could live there but them. They had built this part of L’manberg, out here in the cold, they had been here for years before the god arrived and Techno had a feeling they would be here several years after his departure as well.

Philza liked it here. He founded buildings and churches and apartments and offices while the settlement to the northeast, the current L’manberg, grew into what it was when the god arrived. After that he spent just about all of his time here in the cold, where the two of them fit in so perfectly.

Techno didn’t know what made Philza so attached to the country beyond. He couldn’t fathom that kind of adoration for a place that called this land of ice and cold, their rightful land, its own.

But Phil stayed, so Techno did the same, not wanting to wander into the wastes beyond that now belonged to the golden god. He couldn’t say he was scared of the being; crossing him though would be an inconvenience to him. Especially given how it was that god who had brought his beloved mortal back to him, back to life.

“He’s going there now.” The voice was familiar, strained through the phone. Wilbur, it seemed, just couldn’t stay away from Theseus.

Who was Techno to judge though? He would judge anyway, of course, but there were times in his own life where he had become obsessed to the point of madness over someone or something. The only one to ever save Techno’s life had been Phil, and they had known each other. Techno supposed he could never understand the kind of connection that a sacrifice like that would make in between two people who were supposed to hate each other. The event had rocked Wilbur for sure, but as for Theseus, Techno knew nothing about how he felt for Wilbur’s villainous alter ego.

“‘There’ meaning your house,” Techno drawled from where he was sitting in the living room, the cold of the ice districts bringing the room to a nice neat cool. Wilbur had called him only minutes ago, updating him on everything he planned to do. He was ‘scheming’ as Phil called it, finding a way to twist his selfish actions into something useful for them. He was good at doing that.

“And it’s there we’ll be able to get him, if his ‘Wilbur’ doesn’t come to the door he’s promised to come back to Siren–Me, and we’ll have him. It’s a win for us.” A contented sigh flitted across the line.

Techno let out a little huff, just loud enough for the phone to pick it up. “Good for you, it’s hard to manipulate a hero, but it seems you’ve been doing well.”

The line went silent for a moment after a sharp breath from Wilbur’s end. “I wouldn’t say I manipulated him.” The words were slow as if he were tasting them in his mouth and he didn’t like the texture. “I owe him, in the end of this all, my debt to him will be repaid.”

Techno huffed again, sharpening his already perfect sword mindlessly as the conversation went on. “Well, I would call it manipulation, and I would say I’m impressed.” He shrugged, knowing that Wilbur couldn’t hear the motion. “Then again, the kid's young, he was probably dying to make it up to ‘his’ Wilbur.” Techno shrugged once again, this time fixing the position of the phone as he held it in between his shoulder and ear. “Really playing the long game,” Techno then halfheartedly mumbled.

“Well, it’s this or his ‘Wilbur’ lets him in and he never comes back to us.” Wilbur said in return. Talking about Wilbur as if he was a separate person was itching Techno’s brain now, and he didn’t like the feel of the name sounding so forign on his tongue.

“Yeah well his Wilbur isn’t going to let him in his house because his Wilbur is planning on having him come back to see Siren at the end of all this.” Techno went on, “So Siren can finally repay whatever debt he has owed to the boy and leave him alone forever.”

“Okay, stop mocking me.”

“I’m just repeating your plan back to you, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Techno didn’t even try to suppress the unimpressed tone seeping through his every word.

Wilbur hadn’t acted odd on the night Theseus had saved him, so of course Techno and Phil hadn’t suspected a thing. The two of them didn’t even think twice about what had happened in that collapsed basem*nt, hadn’t thought twice on why it was Wilbur who had crawled from the broken rocks and bent metal of the collapsed structure first as opposed to Theseus. Theseus, who was always quick on his feet, always up a second after being knocked down, Theseus the healing hero.

That speed is what made him a worthy opponent after all.

Techno didn’t know what he had thought that night, so close to home as the so-called “heroes” of L’manberg went out of their way once again to stop the Arctic in their “evil plots.” Wilbur had hated Theseus, everyone knew. There was more than one video out there of Siren near breaking Theseus’ neck or trying to get a killing slice across the hero’s throat.

There had even been times in the field where Techno had stepped in between the two’s fight when he saw it getting too far, when he could no longer see Wilbur in Siren’s movements.

Maybe anger had taken over once that god had brought Wilbur back to life. The man had changed certainly once he came back, that much was evident. He had chosen to take out that anger on the heroes, those who stood for the system that had forgotten him, forgotten everything he brought them at the cost of his own life. He just eventually centered all that hate and anger against the world who forgot him on the first hero he faced when he came back into the light of the world. And that person had been Theseus.

Techno was smart, smarter than everyone in the outside world believed him to be. To Wilbur, Siren, Theseus was more than just the hero who healed, Theseus stood for everything he hated, he stood for the world who forgot him.

Techno knew that learning Theseus was nothing more than a boy broke Wilbur more than he would ever admit.

Because in the end of it all, he had been taking his anger out on the only hero that wouldn’t have remembered him in the first place. He was taking out his anger and hate and pure loathing, on someone who probably hadn’t even fought in the revolution, on someone who would have been too young anyway to remember anything about Wilbur Soot, the leader of the revolution.

Techno could sense weakness from a mile away, even the slightest move or change of voice alerted Techno to the fault behind a person’s movement. Techno knew more than anything that it wasn’t any strategic advantage that drove his adopted brother now, it was guilt, plain and painfully obvious.

To have your actions guided by guilt was a weakness, and Wilbur was falling down a rabbit’s hole Techno wasn’t sure he could crawl out of, not this time.

Wilbur was smart, he rarely let emotions guide him. He was one for dramatics, that much was obvious, but in the end it was always just an act, carefully constructed to reach some end goal. This time, though, Techno could see there was no advantage, no goal Wilbur was plotting towards. Wilbur was letting his attachment to the boy guide him blindly.

That was one thing Techno could not grasp, he turned further and further away from this as his years came and went. Attachment.

Guilt and attachment were not a good combination.

“Then what?” Techno questioned, tugging his mind from the straying thoughts. “We just keep him? Like a pet?”

Wilbur took a crackling breath across the line. “Well, then we go along with the plan,” Techno shook his head to himself, eyes still glued to the sword below him as he ran the whetstone along it. “He’ll just be there, with us.”

“Whether he agrees or not.” Techno chided, a smirk resting across his light features.

“They threw him out, Techno, of course he’s going to agree. If not at first, then eventually.” Techno supposed the words were true, he wouldn’t stand for the people who betrayed him either, and Theseus had been betrayed by his people. However…

“You forget that he grew up with these people, he may go back to them anyway.” Techno paused, the movement of the sword on the whetstone coming to a quiet halt as Techno then considered his brother’s plan. “Unless you as his ‘Wilbur’ are teaching him that he can’t go back to people he purposely ran away from.”

Wilbur was dramatic, he was smart, and he was so, so stubborn.

If Techno came outright and told Wilbur what he was doing wouldn’t harm or help their long term goals, and that he was just keeping tabs on this little hero out of his own sense of guilt and shame, Wilbur would wave him off, fight him, really. Wilbur needed reasons for doing what he was doing or he would fall, he would collapse in on himself.

Philza had told Techno once that he was afraid that if Wilbur took the time to think past his frantic actions, Wilbur would break down. Techno didn’t know, he wasn’t attuned to the mental turmoils of the mortals around him, he was only aware of himself, of his own actions and what they meant for him, Phil, and Wilbur.

So he listened to what Phil had to say about keeping Wilbur sane.

“It’s just the perfect plan.” Wilbur stated, “He took off riding a bike, soonest he’ll get to my place without tipping off Pogtopia to his location is in about half an hour, forty-five minutes more likely.”

“He’s only riding a bike?” Techno had to say he was impressed if the young hero was biking around in the ice districts.

“Well, a motorcycle.” Wilbur clarified, “It should take him half an hour with those speeds to get across the city unseen, and then another half hour before he comes right back.” He sounded elated, like everything he ever wanted was at last achieved even though Techno was sure this would mean nothing in the long run.

“That gives you time to come home,” Techno stated, setting his things gently aside, “It’ll save you from the cold out there. I know how much you hate it, especially in the summer when it’s ‘supposed to be warm.’”

“To be fair, it is supposed to be warm in the summer, Techno.” There was a tenseness to his voice that Techno didn’t recognize. “I’m not like you, I’ve never thrived in the cold.”

The older man huffed at the words. Wilbur was a warm individual, Phil always said so. “Just come home, so you don’t have to wait in the cold for an hour for your little hero to come back.”

“Soon it’ll be our little hero.” Wilbur snipped back, “And besides,” There was a soft click and sliding sound from the front of the house and techno very faintly heard an echo of the next words across the line, “I’m already here.”

Techno hung up the phone before his brother could use the two sources of his voice to give Techno a headache, though the man was glad to see the brunette as he peeked his head around the corner of the living room where Techno sat.

“Hello!” Wilbur sang from his spot in the hallway, pulling that golden veined veil aside, showing off those golden brown eyes to Techno. “You’re right, it’s too cold, and I have the time.”

Wilbur sauntered further into the room, plopping down next to Techno on the sofa.

Techno stayed silent, once again taking up his sword and whetstone. If Wilbur had something to say, he would say it. Techno was fine in the silence or in the midst of Wilbur’s words. It was comforting, like nothing else in the world was going on.

Wilbur fidgeted, pulling out his phone and checking the time what felt like every ten seconds. Still Techno stayed quiet, letting the sound of metal against stone reverberate throughout the room.

“I but he’s going the long way.” Wilbur would state every once and a while as he tapped his shoe against the soft carpet beneath them.

“Doesn’t want to be spotted.” Techno would reply, giving Wilbur the slightest glance before going back to his weapon. It was efficiently sharpened now, though Techno didn’t want to do anything else. Stopping his motions meant finding something else to do, which meant leaving the room, which meant leaving Wilbur to his devices and… Techno was too tired to deal with this.

Fortunately, moments later Philza walked through the door, smiling soft and bright as ever adorning his face. Techno didn’t let his breath betray him as internally he let out the smallest sigh of relief at the sight of his immortal companion.

“Looks like we’re having fun here.” Philza chirped, taking a seat in an armchair across the room from the sofa where Wil and Techno sat.

“Theseus is about to fall right into our hands, Phil,” Wilbur started, and Techno set aside his sword and wheatstone at the words, interested to see what Phil would say in response to his son’s insanity.

“Oh, is he now?” That smile of his never faltered, even if there was concern in the question he posed.

“It’s simple Phil! Now what I’ve done is–”

Techno didn’t care to listen to Wilbur’s half-baked plan again so he turned his head to the window, where light summer snow drifted through the air and stuck to the glass.

Phil was a good father, he gave all his attention to Wilbur as the boy spoke, even if his features gained more of a saddened look along with every word Wilbur said.

Wilbur was happy though, well, he was now at least. Techno would let him be, there was not many times, especially now that he saw Wilbur excited like this, even if Techno thought the boy’s methods weren’t the best. Happiness was hard to come by these days, especially for someone who had come back from the dead to a world that doesn’t remember who you are, who you were.

It wasn’t right.

“If he had respect for his Wilbur, then surely he could have respect for you as you really are.” Phil’s words snapped Techno’s attention from the snow covered window back to the room before him. Wilbur looked taken aback, mask and veil cast aside on the arm of the couch.

Wilbur was still, half a smile ghosting his features and fading quickly with every second. He looked like he had never thought of that option before: Tommy accepting him as both Wilbur and Siren if he ever were to reveal himself to the boy.

“What?” He finally asked, the word small in the cool light of the room.

It was as if his entire plan had been placed on four pillars: trust, Wilbur, Siren, and patience, with the hero Theseus balanced delicately on top, and suddenly two of the pillars combined and the plan became shaky, much more unstable in Wilbur’s eyes.

“Is this about having a hero here in our place to use as a tool, or is this about bringing a child out of an unstable life into a loving home.” Phil wasn’t smiling anymore, but there was a look to his face that made even Techno think the man had the same thought. “None of us knew he was a boy.” Phil continued, finally breaking his eyes from Wilbur to look down; they all had been caught off guard by that fact. “If he’s, what? Sixteen now? How old was he when we first encountered him? How old was he when we first gave him scars that he still has?”

Phil was right.

Techno felt it now, the feel of the boy’s blood on his hands years ago when he couldn’t have been more than fourteen. Should he too feel guilty for all his fights with the boy? Despite the reasoning behind them?

Philza sighed then, those massive wings of his stretching over the arms of the chair at his sides. He leaned back, and while the position must have been uncomfortable for the man’s wings, Phil still looked more relaxed, or, maybe not relaxed but weary. “This is about guilt, Wilbur.” Phil stated, bringing his eyes back up to meet with Wilbur. “You of all of us have had the most interactions with Theseus, with Tommy.” The brief mention of the name made Wilbur flinch back in an almost indistinguishable movement, but Techno saw it, and so did Phil. “You want something for this hero that you wanted for yourself.”

His lips thinned with the words and he stood.

“If anything, it is a good plan–either way.” Phil began walking out of the room, that man always was busy, always had something to do, but why not give his children an existential crisis in between his moments of business. “Good luck, Wil.”

With that he left through the door he had only come from moments ago. Techno’s eyes stayed on that white door frame for several seconds after Phil left, running through all the man’s words in his mind. He had said everything Techno had thought, but way better than he ever could.

He didn’t want to stick around for much longer, but refused to leave his brother, not when his entire plan toppled under him, Theseus shattering along with the pillars at his feet.

So Techno just patted his brother on the shoulder and picked up his phone.

Wilbur had some things to think about.

But he didn’t have the time, because it was then that Wilbur’s phone rang.

Chapter 26: How much is there to feel?

Chapter Text

Anxiety was not a new feeling to Tommy now as he rode his bike from the smothering cold of the ice districts and into the side streets of L’manberg.

It was nerves that took over him the first time he was introduced to a home who even had the littlest of thoughts of adopting him.

He fumbled over himself, and stuttered over every word. He remembered everything there was to remember about that house, the white tiled floors, the hydrangea and ivy that was displayed neatly in every room in colorful and bright vases. The ivy climbed up the walls and the bunches of hydrangea flowers seemed to laugh into the sweet smelling air as soon as those tall dark wooden doors were opened, the gold handle glinting in the midday summer sun as it turned, welcoming Tommy and his agent into the house.

They spoke for a while, Tommy’s agent and the two heads of the household. Tommy was young then, he didn’t really care to listen all too closely to whatever they were saying. He just wanted to see how the petals of the hydrangea shone different colors as the sun snuck through the open foyer window.

He didn’t want to pay attention to what the adults were saying because at that point in time, everything Tommy heard felt wrong, it felt like a trick. So he stuck to fidgeting, walking over to those pots which were overflowing with the bunches of flowers. They looked strong in the sunlight, though even then Tommy knew the fragility of plants. He remembered reaching up one of his little hands to feel the satin texture of the petals, grabbing a petal too harshly with that small hand of his to watch the petal tear away from itself, leaving a fractured softness in its wake.

“He’s a gardener!” One of the heads of the house explained, “He’ll fit in just well with us here.” The words did nothing to ease his mind.

They went to dinner next, and Tommy just remembered how beautiful the blue painted walls looked against the white of the tablecloth. There was laughter then, the room was filled with it, and to Tommy it sounded like the ringing of church bells. Even the lights which hung above the table, absolutely stuffed with all kinds of food, looked like stars as the day went on and the sun set, letting the light of electricity take over the room along with the growing darkness of night.

He remembered swinging his legs under the table as the night grew more still, occasionally answering a question or two posed by the adults, but nothing big. The answers didn’t come easy to him, they stumbled clumsily out of his mouth and he felt embarrassed with each sentence. The adults just ended up laughing Tommy’s self-perceived thoughts of embarrassing speech, going on to ignore him once again.

Tommy was never adopted.

The two that might have adopted Tommy didn’t survive the week.

The war was still going on then, and they joined the cause. Saving your country from its demonous god was a better cause than taking in an orphan. Saving the country was better than taking in an abandoned child.

Tommy was sure they would have gone through with it, they seemed like nice people, they had hosted kids in the past and were just ready to take the final steps.

Tommy only wondered once or twice what life might have been like with the two of them, living in that sweet smelling house with those ocean blue walls and flowers of every color. There had been nights on the streets where he would imagine those flowers, that home, those people so he may ease himself into sleep on the dark wet pavement and concrete of the city.

But even in his dreams the wish never stayed.

Anxiety had taken over Tommy sometimes after that, the most memorable time being when Dream took him out into the city to fight alongside him for the first time.

He had snuck out before plenty of times, he had always been right on Dream’s heels, even if the man turned around to snap at him like Tommy was a dog tagging along at his feet.

But the first time Dream took him out willingly, with the permission from the higher ups of Pogtopia was so much different.

Dream had taken him up to the tallest building in L’manberg to watch as the sky turned from blue to gold in the most flashing of moments to orange then a soft pink as the sun set along the horizon of the city, rays of sun reflecting off of those golden roofs of Las Nevadas. The sky was dark soon after that, little stars blinking into their places in the night sky like they were little eyes, content on watching his progress, especially in the wake of his anxiety.

He had done this before, so many times, but it felt so different then with Dream at his side, quickly reiterating all the things they had gone over in the past week.

Dream was cautious, especially now that Tommy was coming into the field with him. He was insistent on telling Tommy everything that could go wrong and what exactly he needed to do in those situations. This had been before Tommy’s first real encounter with Siren, he didn’t have the kind of fear that built up in him then from the pain the villain caused him.

Tommy wasn’t nervous to fight villains, not at first. He wasn’t scared to be seen by the media, to be finally introduced as one of the newest heroes of L’manberg. No, he wasn’t nervous about any of that.

He just remembers so clearly how nervous he was to fight by Dream’s side.

It felt like a test. It had been Dream who dragged him off the streets after all, Dream who was the only one he ever thought he could look up to. Dream meant everything, and Tommy had to prove that, he needed to prove that in one way or another.

That was what made him nervous up on that rooftop, the sky melting from the brightness of day to the flickering void of night. He remembers the pit that formed in his stomach then, the lightness of his head as he thought over every single thing that could happen that would make Dream cast him aside.

Everything that could make him fail.

Anxiety may have not been a new feeling to Tommy, but rarely was it so clear and heavy as it was at this moment. The pit in his stomach felt so heavy Tommy was worried it was a physical thing, ready to manifest and drag him off the back of his bike no matter how tightly he held to the handlebars.

What would happen? Would Wilbur even be home? Tommy didn’t remember if it was a weekday or not, he couldn’t even remember if Wilbur had a job he might be at at this time of the day. What if he had one of those fancy doorbells that recorded the person at the front step? Even worse, what if he looked through the windows of his house, just giving him and Tommy enough time for their eyes to meet before closing the curtains, before leaving Tommy once again to wait on the doorstep of someone who didn’t care enough to take him in. It had happened before here in Tommy’s sh*tty life where he had been cast out of a home in the midst of the revolution so whoever it was that was in the house could take care of themselves, not worry about another mouth to feed.

The revolution times were nasty and dark. Children with no parents couldn’t be looked after by others so they needed to look after themselves. That was what Tommy did at least, leaving that life in the system to just have a taste of freedom even though food was scarce on the streets, and people you could trust were few and far between. Especially after Tommy’s power of healing fully emerged into the world, marking him for the rest of his life as a valuable object more than a person.

The memories dragged at him, making his head light and his stomach heavier with all the feelings of guilt and hate and just pure loneliness.

But maybe if Wilbur had abandoned him in this world, then he had no one else to go to.

Wilbur was a new addition to Tommy’s life, that was something the hero couldn’t deny, but the man had already brought so much to Tommy. If Wilbur abandoned him, then there really was no choice left but Siren and the Arctic to go back to.

He didn’t want to think about that, about being willingly taken into the arms of the Arctic just because they were the only people out there who dared to be straightforward with Tommy, who saw him as nothing more than what he was: some street kid who learned to heal.

Tommy just hoped that Wilbur would at least listen to what he had to say and not just reject him on his doorstep as if he were some stray cat begging for food.

A light beep came from Tommy’s phone, and he spared it a glance where it rested snuggly behind the handlebars of the bike where he could see it and it wouldn’t slide away into the streets at a rough turn. A little blue arrow followed a line that had been constantly recalculated as Tommy took side streets and doubled back to make sure he wouldn’t be spotted. He was getting close to his destination now, very, very close to meeting Wilbur.

If the man would even talk to him.

Tommy felt that anxious pit in his stomach grow, weighing him down.

There had been truth to what Tommy said to Wilbur across that line. There had been a build up of stress and hate and pure unrelenting fear from the time he spent with the Arctic. Wilbur was always so open, so kind, so willing to take whatever Tommy had to hash out. Wilbur was someone who understood Tommy, not in the same way Dream did, or Sapnap did, Wilbur understood Tommy and how he felt. They were so similar it hurt Tommy and he didn’t know what to do with that feeling of companionship, so instead of getting closer, Tommy lashed out and distanced himself.

And that just might have lost him Wilbur when it came down to the nitty and gritty.

“Wilbur, I’m sorry.” Tommy whispered into the air, he didn’t know what else to do with his time before he got to Wilbur’s place, a place that had been an offered sanctuary for the longest time. “I lashed out and…” The boy pressed his lips together, grip tightening on the handlebars of his bike.

It felt stupid, but he felt like he had to say something to ease the silence that clawed at his mind. He wanted to do anything to avoid feeling the guilt of yelling at Wilbur, the only civilian who had ever stayed by his side. The only one who was so normal Tommy leaned into that normality like it was a heaven on earth.

It was those words that had triggered Tommy. I owe you, Wilbur had said in a voice that belonged to Siren, and it broke Tommy.

The boy took a deep breath but that gut wrenching feeling didn’t go away.

Siren was the bane of Tommy’s existence, the wrongness to whatever rightness Tommy had in this world. Siren was evil, and full of hatred that he let out on Tommy. Tommy would be lying if he said some of his own hatred didn’t guide his movements in their fights as well.

Tommy carried so many scars from Siren, whether directly or indirectly. The stark white of the scars on his hands shone in the flashing sunlight between trees as he passed by. Wilbur had scars too, through those scars, they could relate with one another in some way. They were similar, Tommy knew it, Wilbur projected it, and neither of them knew how to deal with that.

Another beep and Tommy found himself slowing down, pulling his bike up to the curb of the street and placing it in park, setting down the kick stand.

Tommy slid off the bike, settling his phone in his pocket.

This was a nice neighborhood. The houses were separated, each had their own front and back yard with neat little cars set in each driveway. The laughter of children sang through the air, the children visible in a front yard a few houses down.

It was beautiful.

Trees green in the summer air swayed lightly over the streets with their long outreached arms. A slight breeze danced with dust and pollen across the street and birds sang somewhere above.

Of course Wilbur would live here, Tommy thought to himself, eyes following after a chipmunk that scurried across the grass green as emeralds in the yard in front of him. The place screams Wilbur. Wilbur liked quiet, but not inactivity, and so much was going on here, so much was happening and yet nothing was happening at the same time.

Tommy could just imagine Wilbur burning some silly kid’s book on heroes right here in his driveway, flames licking at the concrete below and leaving a black stain on the ground where the fire burned.

But there was no black mark in the driveway. There was no car either.

He must keep his car in the garage, Tommy thought, taking a few steps up the driveway and toward the door. His nervousness pooled in his gut, dragging down any confidence he might have in his one and only civilian friend.

Tommy took a breath, holding it for only a moment before he began his walk forwards, towards the door.

Above the frame read the most skrunkly Soot Tommy thought he would ever see. Wilbur must have carved the name above his door in a possessive kind of way. It was Wilbur after all, Tommy didn’t know what he expected.

What if he did answer the door? What if he made Tommy explain himself, explain his actions? What if Wilbur was so mad he shut Tommy out?

The house loomed over him as he came closer to the door, no fancy doorbell in sight. Tommy straightened his shoulders, beginning his walk up the pathway to the door.

And…

What would he say?

What would he say if Wilbur did end up answering the door? How would he tell him he was sorry, was he even sorry?

Soon enough the door was right in front of him, and Tommy wasn’t sure if it opened he would know what to say, what he would want to say.

Tommy felt hurt knowing that he was the one to have brought his and Wilbur’s relationship to this strained state. He felt betrayed that Wilbur hung up on him when he was feeling so lost, so down after what happened with the Arctic not even hours before. Most of all though, most of all Tommy felt alone.

Achingly and heartbreakingly alone.

And it hurt, Tommy knew it hurt. Especially here, standing still in front of Wilbur’s neat front door on his homely house mat that of course read “Home sweet Home” with both of the ‘Home’s comically large and taking up half of the dirtied mat, the word ‘sweet’ lost under years of dirt and mud.

Standing here Tommy was fully aware of just how alone he was. He was at a civilian’s house for god’s sake. And while he knew Wilbur as well as he knew the dirt under his nails, he was still just that, a civilian. Tommy didn’t know him, not in the way he knew Dream at least. Dream had been there, not at the beginning, but Dream had been there.

Tommy remembered the first time the two of them met, the clarity of the encounter stuck in his brain every time he healed the man. It reminded Tommy a lot of the one time he healed Wilbur in the Library if he was being honest with himself. Long story short: Tommy had still been on the streets, he happened to stumble across an injured Dream, and he healed him, then the two stuck together.

Simple, easy.

But now Tommy wouldn’t dare to go near Dream, not while Pogtopia was after him, not while now they most likely thought he was working with the Arctic.

That will be true soon enough won’t it? Tommy’s mind whispered into the silence of the boy’s mind. He couldn’t think of a way to shake off the thought, even now as he stood on Wilbur’s doorstep because he was scared it just might be true.

Tommy bit his bottom lip, raising a slightly shaking fist. It was this or Siren, and it had to be this.

The boy knocked.

The sound felt loud and it sounded hollow against the wood of the door. Tommy bit his lip harder, waiting to hear that familiar sound of someone walking behind the door just before they opened it, just before he had to inform them that their husband or partner, wife, child, roommate, friend, or even sibling had been convicted of a vile crime, of villainy, a crime big enough to have them placed in custody before they were sent off to Pandora’s Vault.

Now that Tommy was thinking about it, this was the first time he was going to someone’s house on good terms…well, without bad news, or at least without guilt…

Ok well, this was the first time Tommy was going to a civilian’s house solely for his own purposes. He was filled with bad news, filled with guilt, and for the first time in a long time, Tommy felt his eyes sting, a sting he blinked away furiously. If Wilbur rejected him, that would really be it for Tommy. He would go back to Siren, the man who had tried to take his life so many times before. Siren would take him to the rest of the Arctic, the same people who had broken his arm with a promise of far more pain to come before threatening him once more.

Tommy would say that one of his options if Wilbur didn’t let him in was to go into the wastes of land beyond, the wastes that the god ruled with his lesser subjects of the dead, but Tommy would never again risk going to see that god, especially after the day he spent outside of the borders of L’manberg with the demon Bad and Sapnap.

The god had said that he would take everything of Tommy’s away slowly. That thought made Tommy want more than anything to blame the being, the ‘god’, for his loss of Wilbur.

Your brothers. The god had said the words with such ease, did he know this moment would come? Did he want to take everything that resembled even something as small as a friendship, a family from Tommy?

Tommy bit his lip harder, tasting copper in his dry mouth. There was still no noise sneaking through that closed door, not in the moments where Tommy had stood there, thoughts of the golden god melting into his memory.

He knocked again, pulling his mind from thoughts of the god, and when once again he heard no sound from the inside of the house, Tommy rang the doorbell. The sound leaked through the closed door, and for the first time since his arrival, Tommy felt like an idiot. He felt like he had been punched in the gut, but most of all, he felt lost.

He hadn’t considered not seeing Wilbur at all. In his mind Wilbur would always come to the door, sometimes he would yell at Tommy for the things he said across the phone, sometimes he would peek through the window, see it was Tommy standing there, and not open the door at all, and sometimes he would open the door and just stare, waiting for Tommy to speak the one time the boy had no words to say.

Tommy had never imagined Wilbur wouldn’t be home.

And…

That wasn’t fair.

The thought came quick to Tommy’s mind, like a whisper on the back end of a light wind, nearly impossible to hear. Something pricked in the corners of Tommy’s eyes, the boy frowning at the door as if it was the one who kept Wilbur from him.

This felt like the thousandth time in his life he had been abandoned, and the hundred thousandth time Tommy had been alone.

It wasn’t fair, or right, and this time, Tommy was going to do something.

He pulled his phone from his pocket, fury and madness settling through his veins like lava. Tommy took a deep breath. He sat in the alcove of Wilbur’s front door, leaning his head back against the hard wooden door like it was an anchor. His throat felt tight, his eyes tired and wet, but still only one harsh word fromTommy tearing at his already stretched seams.

It was the loneliness, Tommy told himself as he scrolled through his contacts, that pit in his stomach filled with anxiety and doubt and fear. It was just an emotion, as all things were, it would pass eventually and he would feel better, he always did, didn’t he?

Tommy coughed once, his throat was just too tight right now, he couldn’t think clearly past the nervousness and he pressed on Wilbur’s name on his phone, that goofy image of the man popping up bright on Tommy’s screen like a mocking image.

The boy gave himself one deep breath, then two, eyes closed against the light of the sun which seemed so bright against the grass of Wilbur’s lawn and the sealed cracks of the asphalt in the street, new and shiny in the light of the day. He clicked the call button, finding his mind muggy and slow in the thoughts of what to say.

The phone rang once

Because what would he say?

The phone rang again.

This was Wilbur, did the man expect an apology?

A third ring.

Did he want Tommy to explain himself, ask for forgiveness?

Phones rang five times before voicemail, right?

Did he want Tommy to do something for him? What would he want?

A ring.

A click.

A voice.

“Tommy?” The voice was muffled, unsure across the line.

“Wilbur.” Tommy couldn’t keep the crack from his voice, and the one break in his words was like the opening of a floodgate. Tommy felt water prick at his eyes and he tried to hold it back, though his voice shook and his throat tightened like Siren was once again choking him to near death. “Wilbur, I have nowhere to go, I didn’t know what to do, I came to your house Wilbur but you weren’t there, and–and I’m sorry, I was angry earlier and stressed and mad and, I don’t know, so I called you and I–”

“Tommy, Tommy!” His name came evenly across the line, calm even in the light of panic. “Tommy, you don’t need to explain yourself, where are you? I’ll come pick you up, where are you, my house?”

And he was calm, worry trickled across the line so real and pure Tommy couldn’t believe the softness that came with Wilbur’s words. His cheeks felt wet and his vision blurred, Tommy wiped at his eyes, hoping to clear the fog there, because he felt broken, and wrong, and here was Wilbur.

“I’m sorry Wilbur.” Tommy choked out, burying his face in his knees as he sat on Wilbur’s doorstep, blinking furiously at the water in his eyes. Tommy felt alone and broken and embarrassed because when was the last time he allowed himself to feel like this?

“Tommy, it’s okay, I’m coming, I’ll be right there, I’m at work now but–just wait where you are, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” A hiccup echoed through the air, and it took Tommy a moment to realize the sound came from him, sobbs echoing right behind it as tears finally spilled fast and hot down his cheeks and into the fabric of his pants. The sound of an engine turning over echoed across the line, then the click of a seatbelt. “It’s okay, hey, hey!” The words were panicked, but the only thing that grounded Tommy in the moment. “I’ll be there soon, you don’t have to worry, I’m not going to leave you there, I won’t leave you, I promise.”

The words were strained but Tommy clung to them like they were a raft in a raging ocean “I know I can’t internalize things.” Tommy sobbed into the phone, burying his face in his knees even deeper in an effort to still the sobs that racked his body, “You were right Wilbur, and I shouldn’t have yelled at you, if you want me to go I can–”

“No!” The word was sharp across the line, shocking Tommy from his body racking shakes, “No, Tommy, stay there, it’ll be alright, I–I’m sorry I…” Silence took over the line, Tommy’s sharp breaths the only things picked up by his microphone. “I shouldn’t have left you alone Tommy, stick there and we’ll figure these things out together, okay?”

Tommy nodded, not trusting himself to speak even a small yes in this moment, even though he knew Wilbur couldn’t see his nod of affirmation across the phone.

He wasn’t leaving.

Wilbur wasn’t going to just leave him here.

“Here I’ll stick on the phone.” Wilbur soothed, the sobbs that racked Tommy’s body easing with the voice of the man. Wilbur let out a little chuckle, confusing Tommy for a moment before he spoke, “One time, I made Phil so mad, I left the house and spent a night in some alleyway.” Tommy sniffed, and Wilbur went on. “It was something dumb, I can’t even remember now, I think it had something to do with his souvenirs from travel, something stupid like that.” Wilbur paused, giving Tommy any room he wanted to break in with a snarky remark or a quick jab. Tommy, however, stayed silent, the only noise from him beating his little sniffles between the moments he wiped his eyes and nose on his sleeves. “I found a cool looking rock or bug shell or something outside and wanted to put it on display. I crawled up to the tallest shelf on one of the dining room chairs, and you know what happened?” The man laughed again, “The shelf broke off the wall, and everything crashed to the floor.” Another laugh, softer this time. “Phil got so mad, he told me off for climbing that high in the first place and breaking all these little glass things, and I just felt so bad that I ran out the house and hid in an alleyway like a mile away.

“My dad lives in the ice districts so it was cold out, but I didn’t care, I didn’t want to get yelled at, and I felt so bad for breaking all those things because Phil looked so devastated.” He chuckled, “Phil found me in the morning and he was so relieved to see me, he hugged me all up in his wings and took me straight back home.” A sigh echoed across the line. “Knowing Phil now, I realize he wasn’t mad at me for climbing up to that shelf or breaking all those trinkets, he thought I would get hurt in the debris by falling off the chair into all that broken glass or something along those lines…”

Tommy’s sobbs rolled down to sniffles, and now he just rubbed at his swollen eyes with a sleeve of his shirt.

“Tommy, I was worried about you, I still am.” A sigh came across the line in a crackling noise. “I’ll be there soon, I promise.”

And maybe Tommy was too tired, too emotionally drained to think, but as Wilbur flung into another story about upsetting his brother, Tommy let the man’s voice wash over his mind and listened, the fear and loneliness melting from his joints and into the light summer air beyond.

Chapter 27: Forgiveness

Chapter Text

“The sky is always so blue in the summer.”

The words broke a silence, one that had sat comfortably in the air like settled honey in a honeycomb. They were soft words, observant, and above all they were an opening for conversation.

They met during the winter, Tommy and Dream. It was cold in the winter, but this year around, it was particularly frigid. This kind of cold melted through your thick layer of clothes, it frosted your lashes and bit at your reddened fingertips stinging your skin with every movement.

Tommy was one of the lucky kids out on the street. He was around eleven years old at the time, and he was able to use his youth to manipulate charities or kind people into giving him clothes or food or blankets. There wasn’t much to go around, especially with all of L’manberg’s resources going into the war, but Tommy found a way to survive, he always did.

Tommy snorted, looking out across the city beyond them. “It’s blue in the winter too, summer is nothing better.” He had his arms crossed against his chest, leaning against the brick of the wall behind him. He hadn’t been paying attention to the sky then. It may not have been gold and bright as it had been when that god looked over the land, but Tommy wasn’t looking there, instead his eyes settled on the streets far below them.

They were sitting on the roof of the tall Pogtopia building, the city stretching beneath them, little cars racing through the streets like hotwheels in a child’s bedroom.

“You’re off the clock, Tommy, you can relax.” Dream was at ease, and he was new enough to Tommy at the time for the boy to take the words seriously.

It hadn’t been more than six months since they met, Dream acting as a vigilante, running throughout the streets and taking down anyone who sought to grab any power that remained available after the exile of the god and the end of the revolution.

It was the beginning of heroes and villains in L’manberg. The very foundations of Pogtopia were being built up. It had been a little organization used to build up the sections of L’manberg that had fallen in the war, whether it be the people, the physical foundations, or the supplies that had been diminished throughout the course of the war. Over time, more and more people looked to Pogtopia as the protector of what good remained in L’manberg. So Schlatt took that momentum and founded Pogtopia to be more, a barrier against those who scrambled for power in the wake of the war. Pogtopia hired heroes, pulling the powerful off the streets or from their homes in a hope to protect the land they fought so hard to win.

Tommy was young when he healed soldiers from the revolution, the soldiers and fighters coming home from a long battle against the raised army of the dead. He continued his healing after the end of the revolution as well. Quackity was off on his own then, still checking in on Tommy every once and a while, but with the end of the revolution there came responsibility for him. He had Las Nevadas to run after all.

That was when Dream found Tommy, the vigilante’s arm broken as he ran from some criminal that sought to take him off the streets forever.

Tommy healed him, knitting his bones back together so the hero might be able to continue with his good deeds. Dream gave him a look, his eyes bright, despite the injury on his arm. He was younger then, and wore a white fabric mask, a sloppy smiley face drawn on it standing dark against the fabric even through little blood stains covering it.

Dream came to him after that, over and over and over.

It was annoying then, especially because the man always came without a scratch to his figure. Tommy had better things to do than deal with this vigilante, he had roofs to watch the city, to watch the sun as it set beyond the horizon and the world fell into darkness.

After the god was exiled, the city was safer after all, it was more calm, it was all Tommy wished for.

Dream always came with questions, each time

“You’re here a lot.” A voice Tommy recognized, yet didn’t.

He closed his eyes, drawing his threadbare coat closer to himself against the freezing cold of the winter. He had come here before, many many times.

“Do you actually need me this time?” He was tired; a day of energy spent on gaping flesh and infected wounds would do that to a person.

The man shrugged, uncaring of whatever answer Tommy wanted. He sat on the rickety wooden crate Tommy used as a makeshift cot for any of his visitors. His lime green coat pooled around him, from where Tommy sat it looked old, especially with the black patches that just barely were stitched over rougher parts of the coat.

Dream gained Tommy’s attention by visiting the boy every day, bantering with him until Tommy opened himself up to Dream. Maybe it was the constant visits, maybe it was the man bringing him all sorts of fast food from around the city, maybe even it was his stories about the world that drew Tommy’s attention from the dirty blood spattered skin of his arms up past the buildings around him and into the sky above.

Dream visited every day, and soon enough he stayed with Tommy through the worst nights when the cats would scream or the violence of post-revolution L’manberg would get too close to Tommy’s lurking area than comfortable. Soon enough it was Tommy following Dream around the city, every night on another roof, every day watching a different sunrise.

Soon enough, Tommy couldn’t imagine how he had been alone for so long without the man.

“Strays stick together.” Dream once said, nudging Tommy’s side, not too long after Pogtopia began its hero program and took the two of them in. “We’ll be together no matter what.”

That had been a lie hadn’t it.

His world had been turned upside down all because something that was out of his control.

Pogtopia thought he was secretly working for the Arctic; the public had seen him by Siren’s side as the man pulled him from that building, shielding Theseus with his own body. Tommy trusted Dream with everything he was, but that didn’t mean that Dream would throw everything away for Tommy, not in the way Tommy had for him. Dream obeyed the rules first and looked out for those he cared about second.

Tommy knew he was always the second priority to Dream, it just hurt so much more now that he was reminded of his place when it came to Dream.

He felt empty here.

He would do anything for Dream, but the man left him behind. He knew he could always stick with Sapnap, but Sapnap, too, sent him away. Siren, the one person who had broken his bones mercilessly, torn his skin with knives and claws and stared down at him through hateful eyes, was the only one that was there for him now.

At least Tommy could understand his reasoning. Siren was clear, even if Tommy didn’t believe him and the promises he made of debts owed towards the one hero that saved his life..

Wilbur was a new addition To Tommy’s destructive life. He was a light, a kind which Tommy had never seen before. He was a reminder of normality, a reminder that things did go on outside of Pogtopia, outside of the violence that took place throughout the streets.

The man read books, he sang, and he liked to watch the sunset with Tommy as if it was the brightest thing in the world. Had Tommy taken advantage of that?

Surely it was unfair to Wilbur for Tommy to take his presence and use it for himself. He didn’t care now if the man saw himself in the way Tommy acted, he didn’t care if Wilbur hated him forever, if not for yelling at him, then for just being who he was.

Wilbur had seemed mad at the scars that littered Tommy’s hands, was that enough to make someone hate you? The appearance of your own physical body? Tommy couldn’t be sure, he didn’t know if he would ever find out if you could be hated for the scars that littered his body, answer for himself, especially in his line of work where scars were the only things you ever received.

Maybe despite the possibilities, it was better sticking to the known, and for now that meant Wilbur, and in the future? It would mean Siren.

He should have never healed Siren, it was that which brought him here, however… Tommy bit his lip, the landscape growing dark as a cloud shaded the sun’s rays. Who was he even kidding with those thoughts? He closed his eyes, resting his head against his knees. He could blame whoever he wanted for his position now: Dream, Sapnap, Pogtopia, Siren, or even the Arctic as a whole, but in the end, it had been all him. It was him who head Siren half-deliriously calling out to his father, and it was that that broke Tommy.

What was he doing? Why didn’t he stick to his original plan on the streets? Stick with healing everyone that crossed his path and live on the kindness of strangers?

No, Tommy thought, he had to be here, picked up off the streets by the person who would grow to be the closest to him, the closest thing he had to a real family, and then discarded when the going got rough. Not only that, but no longer was he living off the kindness of strangers, but the debts that his enemies owed him.

It was a cruel twist of fate, and maybe it had all been planned by the god. Imagine living for the sheer entertainment of a god who wanted nothing more than to watch you break slowly through his trials.

At this rate, the one last thing Tommy had to go wrong for himself was Wilbur.

Wilbur was the only thing keeping Tommy from fully rolling up into a freshly dug grave and begging to be buried. For all he knew, Wilbur was probably just some cruel joke pulled on him by the god.

So many moments of his life had gone so wrong at this point, each good thing now being dramatically and forcefully pulled away from him all within the past week. His sanity was balancing on stilts at this point, one of the stilts was Siren, and the other was Wilbur. Siren was a reminder to Tommy of what the hero and villain world of L’manberg was really like. It reminded him of the pure hate and sadness and sheer loneliness that began to drive people’s lives after the L’manberg revolution.

On the other hand, Wilbur was a reminder that they lived in two different worlds, and they were only tenuously connected through that thread that was Tommy. Tommy, who woke up every afternoon after a long night of working to go to the most normal job in the world. Tommy who got to ride the bus to work every morning and see how his neighborhood had changed. Tommy who got to sit at a desk and breathe in the scent of old and new books combined. Tommy who got to hear people laughing genuinely when not hours before it was Tommy they saw on their news stations, putting someone’s organs back in their gut so maybe, just maybe, they could stay alive long enough to say goodbye to those closest to them.

His lives were two different worlds, but now it seemed like they were colliding.

Once they had been as separate as the sun and the moon, one bright and full of happiness and health and love, and the other dark, consistent in a way where you expected the darkness and the pain and the fear. Now both his worlds were the earth: ever changing, always the same in the fear and in the love.

Things were getting so messed up for Tommy, he dug his face further into his knees, content to feel the bones of his legs rest against his forehead.

Dream was no longer himself. He wanted Tommy to be there solely for Pogtopia. Sapnap was more Sapnap than Ember, he actually cared enough to look at Tommy’s situation from the outside, to see Tommy as more than who he was as “Theseus.”

Inside was outside in these times, up was down, and Tommy was dizzy. Green was red, black and white were gray, soon enough, Wilbur was going to be a villian.

Tommy closed his eyes tight against the thought. His life was already messed up, if Wilbur turned out to be anything but himself, Tommy didn’t know what to do with himself.

Wilbur was everything that represented the real world, the world Tommy woke up every day to serve and protect with his life. Wilbur, as he represented the kind of love and fun that never failed, in Tommy’s eyes was just a step shy of absolute perfection and goodness in the world.

***

Wilbur didn’t know what to do after Phil spoke to him like that.

He was shaken, taken aback by the realization he was doing so much wrong, and then Tommy called, and Wilbur further didn’t know what to do, what to say.

Tommy was panicked, and young, and stuttering over his words like he never had before. This wasn’t Theseus, this could never be Theseus, could it? With the shaking voice and hard sobs that even Wilbur could hear across the line. This was a kid, nothing more than that. Who was he to leave him?

Wilbur felt stupid, this wasn’t Theseus at all, this was Tommy, and Wilbur knew Tommy.

Had he really separated Theseus from Tommy so much that he himself was pretending that he didn’t even know the hero? The kid?

It was foolish, it was stupid, and he was wrong. His plans would continue whether he had Tommy by his side or not, who was he to manipulate him like that?

There are other options, the man thought, hands gripping the black steering wheel in front of him, tight enough that his fingernails poked the heels of his hands.

Wilbur took a moment, just a moment to look out the window of his car to see the glittering city beyond, each of the windows reflecting sunlight back at him in golden rays. He gritted his teeth together, hitting his head back against the rest behind him, keeping his wary eyes on the road.

A sniffle sounded across the phone line, and Wilbur was snapped to the here, the now.

Wilbur hadn’t hung up on Tommy even as he was on his way there, he couldn’t. Even as he found himself on the road, halfway through the city in his car that Tommy had made fun of not too long ago for being too ‘new’ too ‘fancy’ he couldn’t leave Tommy alone when he was like this.

“I’ll be there soon.” Wilbur repeated for what felt like the hundredth time, “Give me five minutes and I’ll be right there.”

Wilbur had had a plan for years now, his death and subsequent fade into obscurity only pushing him further and further into a planned out finality, an end to all this earthly pain.

Tommy seemed to be the one thing now that kept him from completing everything he wanted to do, everything he needed to do.

Theseus was different in Wilbur’s eyes, and maybe that’s where Wilbur’s downfall lay. Because Theseus was a strong hero. Theseus stood by Dream’s side and took all the brute force of the fight because he could handle it. Theseus would throw his body in front of his companions, his friends in battle and civilians because he knew that he would make it out of there alive, no matter the injury, when they would not.

Theseus was the strongest hero Wilbur knew of, and yet he was still an accessory to the higher up heroes because his power was not combative like theirs. They had flashy powers, the kind that would throw you back or creep into your mind like a worm in an apple. They had fire and noise and swords and axes, Theseus had only the skill of his hands.

If anyone could take a blow in a fight, it was Theseus, and Wilbur had hated that. In the past Wilbur thought that there couldn’t have been a moment where Theseus felt more pain than he did after what happened to him, so Wilbur made sure to enact that kind of pain upon the hero, too stuck behind his own fog of pity to see the obvious pain and hatred he was brewing right in front of him.

And yet never once had Theseus shed a tear that meant something. Theseus was strong after all, was he not? He flung himself in harm's way in order to save lives, his skin tearing and blood spilling across dark pavement because that was his job, he lived for that. Siren had seen him choke on his own blood, get run through by more than one sword. Wilbur had seen the boy stand after jumping from a five story building, his legs knitting themselves back together as he settled his weight on one knee, then another, any injuries gone after mere moments, all that remained being a tiredness that drew on his limbs, a tiredness that shown prominent in his eyes as they shown through those goggles of his.

Never had Theseus broken like this. Never had Tommy broken like this.

Tommy was a serious being. He was someone who dragged the weariness of hero fights into his everyday life, his ‘civilian’ life. Tommy didn’t have the time to relax, nowhere did he have the time to relax, and in his moments of civillianhood, it was Wilbur that took advantage of that.

If Tommy could go through injuries that could kill a person, through dragging those closest to him from the brink of death, and withstanding the sick kind of torture that Siren, Wilbur put him through without this kind of emotional break…

Maybe this was Tommy’s moment to break, and if anything that was what Wilbur understood.

Maybe this was Wilbur’s time to break as well.

The rest of the ride continued in a brisk silence, the sniffles and sobs across the line settling down until it was only silence that whispered across the phone line.

Wilbur felt ashamed, especially after what his dad had told him before he left. Was there even anything Wilbur could say at this point? Anything that wouldn’t tilt the conversation one way or another? He hadn’t been using Tommy this whole time as a part of a plan… well… He found it useful that he just conveniently ran into the hero that saved his life in his local library, normal and plain as ever.

The number of possibilities that lay before Wilbur then as he dropped his books, eyes widening because that was him, that was the very boy that saved his life and he was a boy, a child. He was young, a child and all the things Wilbur had ever done in his presence flickered through his mind. It only became worse when Tommy confirmed it.

Wilbur couldn’t remember the rest of that night, just snippets through a fuzzy mind and slow thoughts, walking through the ice districts feeling warmer than ever before. He sat there, in the spot where death had been holding his hand, and just thought. It was dark down there, the moonlight hidden by veils of clouds against the freezing sky.

How could he ever think about using the boy when he had done so much to him already?

It was guilt, the kind that pooled dark in his stomach, and dragged him to the floor. It was the kind that made his head feel light and darkened his vision.

It was the kind of guilt that Wilbur learned to ignore after that god brought him back to life, because why should he care when the world had abandoned him, when he was no one to them when he had given everything.

The streets became familiar in front of him, the stores began to dwindle and more and more houses appeared, each seeming to glow in their own colors in the light of the sun as it sailed through the sky.

Wilbur cared so much about the few things that meant the world and more.

Tommy was not one of those things, but he was so close to what mattered most to Wilbur.

He was a hero, Wilbur knew, both in and out of his suit, he saved people when he could and then acted like he didn’t care because caring was a weakness. Wilbur knew that, and Wilbur knew Dream well enough as a hero to know that the man taught Tommy the same thing.

Running a hand through his knotted hair, Wilbur forced in a deep, deep breath, keeping his eyes on the road and the speck of a house that was coming into his vision, his place.

It was all too confusing.

Wilbur had a plan, and it was a plan he was not willing to set aside for Tommy. Yet Tommy meant so much to Wilbur, as both the boy who saved his life and the only example Wilbur had of innocence in the world. If there was anything Wilbur knew for sure, it was that if it came down to Tommy or his plan, Wilbur didn’t know what he would choose.

There were too many options, Wilbur thought, slowing his car’s speed as he came closer to his place. He just didn’t have enough time or enough energy to work everything out, not when he was just so tired.

Gold flashed in the sun, bright and light as every good emotion. Wilbur’s eyes flickered to the source of the light, catching two blue eyes.

Theseus.

Wilbur pulled into his driveway, his movements sloppy as his eyes stayed on Tommy, hunched over on his porch, forgetting that his phone was still connected with the boys in the moment of pur thought, because there he was yet again.

He looked terrible, worse than Wilbur saw him last when he had dropped Tommy off at his apartment complex, veil shifting over his features as he looked over his seat at the boy wondering if this was the best place to leave him.

It hadn’t been.

The fact it wasn’t the best place for the boy was obvious given the way his eyes seemed so tired, especially in the light of day. Now that Wilbur was looking at him, Tommy didn’t look good at all. His face was still slightly red, especially around his eyes and nose. His face looked hollow, and the skin under his eyes was dark, so dark they almost looked bruised. In the basem*nt of the building they had been in not an hour before, Wilbur had seen them, but solely thought they looked the way they did because of the lighting of the room.

The darkness of the basem*nt had hidden so much that now made Wilbur almost reach for the boy in his appearance.

So he did.

He was not Siren now, and Tommy was not Theseus, which meant Wilbur wasn’t confined to the strict formalities and hatred that tied them together as enemies.

“Oh Tommy.” Wilbur left his car, slamming the door closed behind him to rush around the front of his vehicle toward the boy.

Tommy’s eyes were red when they met Wilbur’s, and he looked too tired for someone who was only sixteen. As Wilbur got closer Tommy unfolded himself from the ball he had settled into while sitting on Wilbur’s porch.

He mumbled some half coherent words, using the wall of Wilbur’s porch alcove to push himself up. Wilbur didn’t care all that much of what Tommy had to say, especially not after all the thinking Phil’s words had him do.

“--And I didn’t really mean it I was just exhausted and I–I Wilbur there’s something important I have to tell you, you’re such a big part of my life and I think–” Tommy stuttered over his words, and Wilbur smiled as he looked over the boy, getting closer even as Tommy backed himself into that brick wall behind him like it was his only anchor to reality. The stuttering and unsurety continued, even as Tommy’s eyes became wet and shiny with unshed tears which he could never show Wilbur in person.

So Wilbur got closer, and wrapped his arms around Tommy’s back, drawing him in with no resistance from the boy.

With each passing second Wilbur could feel Tommy melting further into his embrace, and with each passing second Tommy’s speech failed him a bit more until he was sitting in silence in Wilbur’s arms.

They stood like that for a moment, Wilbur feeling Tommy’s sharp breaths where the man rested his hands on his back.

“My dad used to tell me…” Wilbur began, slowly loosening his hug around Tommy’s back, “That no matter what I said or did, he would still be there to care for me at the end of the day.” Tommy pushed further into Wilbur’s chest and Wilbur had to wonder if Tommy ever let someone hold him like this before, if Tommy would ever let himself be this vulnerable in front of anyone. “And I did a lot as a kid.” Wilbur had to laugh at the thoughts, shifting just enough to grab his keys from where he kept them in his pocket, moving just enough to let Tommy know he was bringing the two of them inside. “When I was younger than you are now, I would leave the house late at night, and a lot of the time I would take my dad’s car with me. We lived out in the ice districts then and I hated the cold.”

Wilbur snorted then, eyes on the blond poof that was made up of Tommy’s hair, the boy’s eyes hidden under his low tilted head, almost like he didn’t want to look at Wilbur. The thought made Wilbur frown as he opened his door for the two of them, but he continued anyway, leading Tommy to his living room so the boy could take a seat as Wilbur spoke.

“One day I was being… well… like you really, all loud and obnoxious and full of energy. I was driving my dad’s car around with my friends: Niki, Fundy, Q, a few others, it was all fun and games until I took a corner too fast.”

Tommy’s eyes met Wilbur’s then, his eyebrows shooting upward, an obvious question in their look. Wilbur huffed and stood, making his way to the kitchen, feeling lucky it was in view of the living room so Tommy could never lose sight of him.

It felt like the boy was a wounded animal, unsure of his helper’s true intentions. Could Wilbur blame him though? The boy often dealt with Siren, the thought made that pit in Wilbur’s stomach grow heavier. It made sense, the kind of wariness Tommy now held in his gaze.

“We were all fine.” Wilbur laughed, grabbing the electric kettle from his counter and bringing it to the faucet to fill with new water, fresh in this part of the city. “The car was totaled though.” A laugh, lighter than the words that poured from his mouth like honey. “I thought Phil was going to be so mad at me. Not only had I snuck out and lied to him for the longest time about taking his car around the city, because he never knew about that, but now I had wrecked the car, his car.”

Wilbur set down the kettle on the hot pad, clicking the thing on. Silence stretched in the air between the two.

“I was ashamed that I had lied, I said so many apologies that night as my friends’ parents came to pick them up or they left with only a word of encouragement, each new parent was more angry than the last. I just stood there, apologizing and feeling so bad, but I was also half wondering what Phil was going to say after all my friends were gone.”

Wilbur stared at the kettle, sparing a glance for Tommy as the rising noise of the heat of the thing reverberated throughout the room.

“I apologized then too, it was just the two of us after all, I didn’t know what else I could say to him, but you want to know what he said?”

The kettle clicked, and Wilbur grabbed a packet of cocoa from his counter where he kept the box. He spared yet another glance for Tommy, the boy’s eyes looking all throughout Wilbur’s house like he was a bird transferred into a new cage and he needed to see exactly what his surroundings would bring him. He nodded however, feeling Wilbur’s eyes on him as he observed the space around him.

“Phil just said he was happy to see me unharmed.” The memory was so fresh and pure in Wilbur’s mind. This was still in the times where the god looked over the land, his eyes ever watchful on the frightened people far below him, the people he knew were lesser beings compared to him. “He didn’t yell, he didn’t sound or look disappointed, actually–” The memory was bright in his mind. “He laughed.”

Phils laughter had sounded like bells on a christmas morning then, so bright and loud and genuine.

Wilbur put on a voice as he mixed the packet of hot chocolate and the hot water together in a bright red mug that shone in the light that peeked through Wilbur’s windows. “‘Should’ve seen my first crash’ he told me, ‘you could’ve done better than this.”

Another laugh escaped Wilbur, even now as he stared blankly into the mug he held between his palms on the counter, back towards Tommy. It felt like he was reciting the memory to himself alone, he could have been for all he cared.

“I didn’t lie to him after that, he knew what I was doing anyway, so the best thing for me to do at the time was to keep him updated so he at least knew where I was at any given moment if something ever did happen.” Silence once again took over the space, only the air conditioning flicking on broke the noiselessness. “All that to say Tommy, I don’t care about whatever conversation or fight we had earlier, I’m just glad you’re okay. You can stay here as long as you like as long as I know you’ll be okay once you leave–if you ever leave!”

Tommy and Wilbur were similar if not the same, Wilbur knew Tommy would be able to relate to the words, if anything they would make that look of hopelessness leave from Tommy’s features.

“You lied to your dad?”

They were the first words Wilbur had heard from Tommy since the two of them went indoors, and Wilbur felt relief run through him at the sound.

“Yeah, and of course it didn’t work out, especially with that guy, heh, I probably would’ve been better if I told him flat out what I was doing at night, would’ve been safer for me too.” Thoughts of his father warmed Wilbur to the core. Phil was such a caring man, and he was the only person aside from Techno who had stuck by his side through everything Wilbur had gone through. “I wouldn’t be anywhere without Phil, to him, I owe the world and more.”

Wilbur lifted the mug finally, stepping from back around the counter and making his way to the living room to hand Tommy the much needed drink. Tommy looked better now, he looked up and met Wilbur’s eyes with his bright blue like the sky eyes with a kind of determination Wilbur had only seen in Theseus’s eyes before.

The look eased Wilbur, it felt like even after everything the boy had gone through, he still had that fire burning harsh and crisp in his soul, the same kind of fire Wilbur had, the same heat that drove him through life.

Wilbur had to say he was relieved at seeing Tommy like this, so determined, full of a fight Wilbur rarely saw in this side of him.

Wilbur opened his mouth to speak, but Tommy beat the man to words.

“Wilbur, I need to tell you that I’m Theseus.”

The mug slipped from Wilbur’s hand’s as easily as sand, crashing to the floor with the loudest noise Wilbur had ever heard in his life.

Chapter 28: This is my victory over you

Chapter Text

The mug dropped to the floor, shattering into two crisp halves before cracking into more pieces as they bounced and hit the floor again. The sound of the mug broke the last threads of the normal world which Wilbur had been content to create for the two of them.

Hot chocolate pooled from the broken mug and into Wilbur’s white socks, staining them as if it were blood. He felt cold and hot, his head felt light and he kept his eyes downcast to the broken mug glimmering with the steaming liquid that had been contained within it only moments before.

It felt like there was a ringing in his ears, loud like funeral bells and echoing across every corner of his mind.

It was condemning.

Thoughts raged through the man’s mind, quick as lightning and just as destructive. Options on what to do, what to say were close behind.

Shocked, defiant, unbelieving, which direction should he go, because outing himself to the boy as Siren now was not an option. Wilbur was sure Tommy had respect for him, but that respect would not carry over to Siren. In fact, if Wilbur was to reveal himself, he was convinced Tommy would run. Whatever happiness Tommy held for Wilbur would disappear, any trust would be gone, and Wilbur would rather die than see that look of betrayal on Tommy’s tired, scarred face.

So what could Wilbur say?

He swallowed, then laughed, “Sorry, Tommy.” The words felt stale as they left Wilbur’s throat, and he didn’t raise his eyes to meet Tommy’s intense gaze, “Dropped your mug, what did you say?”

It was a second chance, a way for Tommy to back out, to take the words and hide them back away so they would never escape again.

“I’m Theseus.” Tommy’s tone was harder now, stronger as if the few moments in between his first reveal and Wilbur’s response had solidified Tommy’s resolve.

Think fast, think smart.

Wilbur knelt to begin scooping up the ceramic of the mug from his floor, “Like from the legend?” Wilbur forced a laugh, “Comparing yourself to Theseus from a story doesn’t sound like it explains your situation with your legal guardian very well.” He paused, “That is, unless you feel like you were exiled from your home?” Stupid, that was a stupid thing to say.

“No, Wilbur.” Wilbur had to close his eyes tight against the next words, hands gripping the sharp ceramic so tightly the shards were moments away from breaking open his skin. “I am the hero Theseus and, well, my home did exile me so I came here.”

What could he say now? Tommy’s resolve was solid and sure like a mountain stood for a thousand years, there was no hesitation in his voice and no regret lining the features of his face. There was no going back now, so Wilbur had to find a way to work through this…on no warning…all alone… in his house.

His head felt like it was filled with cotton candy, it was light, and felt deadly with each thought that rushed through it like water dissolving the sugar, waiting to destroy it completely. “Here let me–” Wilbur met the boy’s eyes, bright, hopeful, and waiting for Wilbur’s response. “I’m going to…” Tommy bit his lip, an unconscious gesture Wilbur had seen one too many times from the boy especially given the faint white scars that slashed down his lips, a tell that this was something he did often. It was an unhealthy stress reliever, and something Wilbur needed to stop before Tommy hurt himself further.

“Stop biting your lips,” Wilbur finally muttered standing up straight from where he was knelt on the floor, shards of ceramic gripped in his calloused palms. “I’ll just–I’ll clean this up really fast and then we can…” We can talk, the words hung in the air and Wilbur hated them, they made it sound like Tommy had done something wrong, like he was continuing to do something wrong the more he spoke.

Ironic, Wilbur thought, pressing his teeth together so hard he felt them squeak in his mouth, Tommy couldn’t be doing anything wrong, not when it was Wilbur and Siren who told him to do everything he had done within the last day. So Wilbur forced a smile to his face, recognizing just how fake the smile must look to Tommy.

So he stood, slowly, like Tommy was nothing more than a frightened animal, ready to bolt at any unpredictable movement.

It only took a slight almost invisible nod from Tommy for Wilbur to move. He turned rushing to the kitchen, as fast as his soggy socks and hands full of ceramic would let him. His breaths quickened as he threw the rubbish in the bin, it was like Tommy’s words hadn’t fully hit him until just now, and yet this was the best direction Wilbur could have taken this.

He needed to remember where he was, who he was talking to. Tommy was no longer a civilian, not to Wilbur, not anymore. Tommy, Wilbur had to remember his initial reaction to seeing the boy that sick night where Tommy had spent every last surge of his energy to heal Siren from certain death. That moment Theseus gave Siren his own mask so he could continue to follow along with those set hero and villain rules of taking off masks, of revealing themselves in their full identity to one another.

He had been delirious then, only half alive and as close to death as he had been at least once before, but he still remembered the feeling he had when the Hero Theseus took off his own mask to keep Siren’s identity as Wilbur safe, secure through the honor which all heroes and villains had toward each other.

And what had Wilbur’s thoughts been after that? Well, he thought, he needed to mark down the obvious facts, the ones that matter the most.

Theseus was sixteen.

Siren was recently caught on the news saving Theseus.

Tommy was scared now.

Tommy was nervous because Wilbur might just be the only person in Tommy’s normal world who knows.

What else?

Wilbur grabbed a towel, taking the few steps from his kitchen to the living room so quickly he stumbled on his own feet in the movement.

What were some things that civilian Wilbur couldn’t possibly know?

Theseus was shoved from his home for breaking whatever rules Pogtipia had set up for him, he escaped with the help of another hero, but at what cost to him? What cost to his reputation?

Theseus had a fear for Siren he would never let Wilbur know.

Was it common knowledge that Theseus was a healing hero? Surely it was, right? He healed civilians, right? He had healed Wilbur before, once, when they were in the library. Wilbur as the civilian that Tommy knew him as could piece together those parts of the puzzle, he could understand the connection between Tommy and Theseus from that.

His two lives felt as if they were melding together. Wilbur wasn’t sure what he had learned about Tommy as Wilbur and what he knew about Theseus from Siren.

Wilbur knelt then, wiping up the rest of his startled mess with shaky hands, telling himself that he would mop the floors vigorously later so there wouldn’t be a sticky spot where he had spilled the drink. He felt like a kid, finally caught in his web of lies and desperately looking for a way out before it all crumbled and twisted around him, binding his options together tighter than rope.

He slowed his movements then, any sign of the spill out of sight, gone from the boards beneath Wilbur’s feet, but it was then that he wished more than anything there was something else for him to do. He wished that there was anything that would be able to lessen the silence, to ignore those plainly and painfully spoken words that still whispered throughout Wilbur’s brain.

A sigh streamed from Wilbur’s lungs, and he let his grip on the towels he held tighten. “Okay.” He said, pushing himself to his feet, “Okay.”

He went back to those initial reactions of his, the times when he first saw Theseus as he really was. “But Tommy, you’re sixteen, Theseus has to be older, way older than you are.” Denial, the first step to acceptance, or in Wilbur’s case, faking acceptance. While the words were an act, the hurt the thought brought was real. Sixteen, and how old had he been when Tommy first had a run in with him as Siren?

The thoughts and feelings of the realization did not hit as hard the second time around, though they stung. It was a refresher, a reminder of the youth Wilbur had taken away from Tommy, the fear he must have instilled in Tommy since the day he ran out into the field, right by Dream’s side, body tense and hands held high, but still holding so much energy.

Tommy coughed, looking away like the very mention of his age was an uncomfortable thought. “I was younger when I started to fight, and even younger when I first started using my power for good.”

Wilbur felt his feet tremble beneath him, he brought the soaked towel up close to his chest, not knowing what else he could do now. He felt cold and light headed still, that web of his lies wrapping tighter and tighter around him, the threads of hate and hope and deceit cutting his throat down to the bone.

Tommy sighed, “I know, it’s pretty unbelievable, but my guardian…” A pause as his face twisted with an emotion Wilbur recognized so well as the feeling of betrayal, “Dream… Dream told me something I agree with totally and completely, and that’s that the kids who were born during or around the time of the revolution didn’t get the same experience you all did.” The boy then swallowed hard, his throat bobbing with the gesture like it was tight with tears and hate, “I wouldn’t know what you all’s experience might have been, but from the beginning I’ve been fighting for my life and the lives of other people.”

There was silence once again as Tommy looked down to his hands where his fingers lay intertwined in his lap twisting with every word like they were the only things that allowed Tommy to keep his focus on his words.

And… Tommy was right, that wasn’t how Wilbur grew up.

Wilbur grew up under the strict watch of the golden blooded god. There weren’t fights then, at least, not fights as bad as they were when the revolution swung around. Wilbur also had grown up with a father, a brother, or something of the like. From what Wilbur knew of Tommy’s life, the boy didn’t have that. He had his legal guardian who also doubled as his work supervisor, he had the other heroes, but they couldn’t have been more than coworkers to the kid, right? You can only get so close to someone in a work environment after all, and Tommy had his own place outside of that hero building, so there couldn’t have been as much interaction between them outside of work as inside of work.

Different worlds indeed.

It felt more real now, everything that Tommy had been through. He had spent his life on the street, tired and aching because every day he would use his abilities to the max, healing people from the start. He used that energy more for anyone else than for himself.

The thoughts dragged heavy on Wilbur’s brain, the sheer thought of the pure loneliness Tommy must have had at that time, the loneliness he must have now, sitting in Wilbur’s living room with nowhere else to go but into the arms of the person he must hate the most.

The arms of someone who owed him everything.

There was a point where Wilbur must have felt that same kind of loneliness, not in recent times, but long ago when he found himself in the exact same place Tommy was now: alone and with no one by his side to help him along.

“But I’ve been out there for a long time.” Tommy’s voice caught Wilbur by the throat once again, “And, I…” He paused, biting his lip yet again, “I don’t have anywhere to go, I wouldn’t have come here if I…” Wilbur felt his chest tighten, “I wouldn’t have asked to…”

Did Tommy not believe himself deserving of care? How often, if ever, did Tommy let himself ask for help? Did he really believe that no matter what he said to Wilbur, he wouldn’t take him in?

The world was cruel to Tommy, Wilbur understood that now more than ever.

Out of everyone in this world that cruel god could decide to pick on, why did it have to be Tommy? That god made a mistake causing this chaos and hurt in the boy’s life.