Chapter Text
Tommy breathes a ragged sigh of relief the moment the gun is away. It’s still on Techno’s hip, which is unsettling, but at least no one’s getting shot right this minute.
Wilbur fishes the keys he took from the unlocked car they’d found out of his pocket and hands them to Techno. Wilbur can drive, technically, but his tremor makes steering a little unreliable and he prefers to avoid it.
Techno takes the keys and glances back at Tommy and Phil. “Which car did this come from?”
“I’ll show you,” Wilbur answers, fighting a smile in a way that says he’s enjoying being in charge.
Tommy lets Phil hold his shoulder for balance as they walk. As they make contact, a series of what feels like static shocks jump from Phil’s hand to Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy winces and Phil frowns. “Sorry, mate,” Phil murmurs. “I don’t know how to stop it yet.”
“It’s alright.” Tommy bites back questions about Phil’s power, mostly when the fuck did this happen? Phil’s clearly shaky, his skin is pale and too warm to the touch, and he still has the remains of the scared, hollow look of someone cut off from their power. Answers will come when Phil feels better, Tommy assures himself.
Wilbur manages to find the unlocked car first try, despite it looking identical to every other black enforcement car in the parking lot to Tommy.
Techno puts his hand on the door, then pauses. “Oh. Tommy, here.” He tosses something at Tommy. Tommy catches it and finds that it’s a small key. “For Phil.”
“Thanks.” Phil leans against the adjacent car while Tommy unlocks his handcuffs.
As the car pulls out of the parking lot and they turn onto a street thankfully empty of police or enforcement, Tommy watches Techno in the rearview mirror. Techno’s cut his hair since Tommy saw him last, the tight braided updo it’s currently in showing no hint of pink. His face is as blank as it always is when Techno’s focused, but at red lights his eyes flicker around the car and Tommy sees what he could swear is nerves or maybe even regret.
Tommy won’t lie to himself and say he wasn’t scared. For a moment there, he really thought Techno would shoot him.
But at the end of the day it’s still Techno. It’s still the guy who said yeah, okay when Tommy and Wilbur were a trainwreck three years ago, the guy who tosses a blanket over Tommy when Tommy falls asleep on the couch, the guy whose face fills with affection when he’s watching Tommy and Wilbur and thinks no one’s looking.
Tommy thinks that maybe it’s all still fixable.
Techno pulls off the road a long while later, down a small side road with towering concrete buildings looming over it. “Alright, everybody out.”
“What?” Tommy demands. “Where are we? Where are we going?”
“Train station a couple miles from here,” Techno answers, opening his door. “We can’t just drive up in an enforcement car. We’re leavin’ it here, I’m sure they’ll find it.”
“But Phil,” Tommy protests. “He can’t walk that far.”
“I’ll live,” Phil says, opening his own door and climbing out. “It’s fine.”
Tommy grits his teeth, but doesn’t push it further.
“Oh, and Techno,” Wilbur says, snapping his fingers as he gets out. “Leave the gun.”
Techno hesitates. “It’ll be fine. I can cover it with my shirt and it’s ceramic. No one will notice.”
“That’s nice, but I’m not worried about someone else,” Wilbur replies dryly. “Leave it, Techno.”
Techno shrugs and takes the holster off his belt. “That’s fair.” Tommy releases tension he hadn’t realized he was holding as they step away from the car and the gun. “I think the station’s that way.”
“You think?” Wilbur asks.
Techno scowls. “It’s that way.”
And they’re off. Tommy doesn’t think they’re in the same city anymore, or at least not in the parts Tommy’s been in, and he’s on edge as they walk down the streets. They don’t see many people, but the late afternoon sun casts far too many shadows for Tommy’s comfort.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Tommy asks Phil after the older man stumbles on the uneven sidewalk and takes an uncomfortable second to recover.
“I’m fine, Tommy, really,” Phil says with a smile, but he keeps a hand on Wilbur’s shoulder after that.
“So, Techno,” Tommy asks. Techno raises his eyebrows. “Care to explain what the fuck happened the past few days?”
“What do you mean,” Techno replies, voice carefully flat.
“Well, for one, Phil got arrested for being powered, apparently. You cut your hair. Wilbur and I got an incredibly weird phone call telling us to come back and meet you in that parking lot. What’s going on, Techno?”
“A lot,” Techno sighs. “The Syndicate seems like it’s not happy to work with just me anymore.”
“You keep saying Syndicate without explaining what that is,” Wilbur points out.
“It’s… my contacts. An organization against tyrants and injustice.”
“Is that the terrorists you guys work for?” Phil asks quietly, eyes on the sidewalk.
“We’re not terrorists,” Tommy retorts.
“Nah, they’re kinda terrorists,” Techno corrects him with a shrug. “For a good cause, but still.”
“Oh.” Tommy pauses. “Should we be talking about this in front of Phil?”
“I guess it depends on if Phil’s in or out. Phil?” Wilbur asks, stopping on the sidewalk.
Phil looks up, and Tommy winces at the exhaustion written on his face. “Hmm?”
“Are you sticking with us, or going your own way?” Wilbur asks again. Even Techno stops and turns, watching Phil.
Phil gives a tired laugh. “I don’t think I have much of a choice.”
“I mean… you were kidnapped. Twice now. You still technically haven’t committed a crime if you go to the authorities now,” Techno says.
“Other than the crime of existing,” Phil says back. “Now that I’m powered.”
“Technically you were always powered,” Tommy jumps in. “It only manifested recently.”
“Right. But I think I’d rather stay with you than go back. It’s…” Phil trails off, looking away uncomfortably.
Tommy nods. “Suppression’s a bitch. I told you.” The group starts walking again. Sparks run down Phil’s arms, and Wilbur winces.
“Sorry,” Phil says quietly. Tommy can’t help staring, trying to figure out if the sparks came from anywhere and if they’ll happen again. Phil glances at him. “You good?”
“Yeah.” Tommy shakes himself and looks away.
“Ask your questions,” Phil tells him, smiling gently.
“When did you manifest? What is your power, anyway? Did you know you were powered when I told you mine? What happened?”
Phil laughs. “Okay, maybe not that many questions.” He thinks for a long moment, and Techno quietly points as the front of the train station comes into view. “I didn’t know until a couple days ago. After… after you and Wilbur went wherever you went, Techno and I fought over it, and that’s when… yeah.”
Tommy looks to Techno, who sighs through his teeth. “Sorry. I didn’t… I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions,” Techno says, not looking at Phil. “I thought you’d betrayed Tommy, and I didn’t realize you didn’t know you were powered. It’s not an excuse, but you can see how it looked.”
Tommy has to resist the urge to demand to know what entity has possessed Techno to make him give a genuine apology for once in his life.
Phil just nods. “You came back. That’s what counts.”
The four of them stop at the front gate of the train station.
“Here we are,” Techno announces. “If you’re all with me, we’re going to Kinoko. That’s where the Syndicate wants us.”
“Tommy,” Wilbur says, gesturing. “You’re with me to get tickets. Phil and Techno, wait here. Techno’s too threatening and Phil looks half-dead. Tommy, we’re going for pity. Scared, but not of me.” Tommy nods and falls into step next to Wilbur as they start into the station. Phil sinks shakily onto a bench on the sidewalk behind them.
Tommy falls easily into character as they walk, and he sees Wilbur doing the same. He stays barely a step behind Wilbur, draws in his shoulders, and keeps his eyes down.
At the ticket counter, a man gives them a wary once-over and asks their destination.
Wilbur turns back briefly to check in with Tommy, a pretty believable look of overwhelmed confusion on his face. “Kinoko?” he tells the man in the kiosk. “Do you go there? Here, I can spell it for you, it’s…” he grabs at the pen and little pieces of paper on the desk, exaggerating his tremor. Tommy has to focus on not laughing as Wilbur scrawls the city name on the paper, making a show of trying and failing to write neatly. “Here?”
“Yes, we have a line there,” the clerk says, already looking tired of Wilbur. “How many tickets?”
“Four.” Wilbur rushes to stutter a clarification, something about their parents or someone, the sentences jumbled beyond understanding but still sounding eager and open.
“I— yeah, okay,” the clerk cuts him off. “How are you paying.”
“Here, I’ve got— oh no, um—” Wilbur answers, fishing cash from his pocket and fumbling coins onto the floor. Tommy isn’t sure if this is Wilbur’s money or stolen, and he doesn’t think he wants to know. Wilbur turns back to look at Tommy. “Can you…?”
Tommy nods quickly, ducking down to collect the coins. He lays some in Wilbur’s hand and some on the counter. Wilbur promptly drops the coins again while counting the bills aloud. It takes several rounds of Wilbur handing over cash, insisting he’s miscounted and taking it back, attempting to find exact change with coins from his pockets and on the counter, and stuttering apologies over Tommy’s quieter stuttered apologies, but they leave the kiosk with four tickets and don’t have to show ID. Tommy’s not even sure Wilbur paid the full price.
They return to Phil and Techno outside. “Gottem,” Wilbur says quietly, handing two tickets to Techno.
“We’ll wait a few minutes, then follow you in,” Techno says.
Wilbur nods, frowning like he was about to say that. He doesn’t protest, though, just follows Tommy into the station. They weave through the crowd of travelers, and Tommy has to remind himself that ducking his head or flinching away from people only makes him stand out more. Wilbur grabs his hand and smiles reassurance at him. As they pass an unattended convenience shop display, Tommy knocks a yogurt into his pocket to give to Phil.
They arrive at the appropriate terminal and settle in the hard narrow chairs. Wilbur taps on the metal armrest, his tremor giving the sound a slight rattle.
Later, Techno and Phil arrive and sit next to Tommy and Wilbur. Under the fluorescents, Phil looks even worse, but he stares around the station with barely-disguised wonder, tracing his eyes between the lights and over tracks. Tommy wonders what he sees. Tommy hasn’t seen anything of Phil’s power other than the sparks he can’t seem to control, but he’ll have to wait to ask questions until they’re somewhere a little more private.
“Here, Phil,” Tommy passes Phil the yogurt and its plastic spoon.
Phil looks pleasantly surprised. “Thanks, mate.” Tommy doesn’t mention it’s stolen.
It takes almost an hour for the train to arrive, but eventually they end up in their seats, Wilbur and Tommy behind Phil and Techno. By the time the train’s pulling out of the station, Phil’s asleep against the window.
“I miss Uncle Nasty,” Tommy mutters.
Wilbur scoffs. “Of course you do.”
“I wish we could’ve gotten our stuff.”
“Me too.”
“Do you think we’ll be okay?”
Wilbur thinks about it for a moment, and Tommy wishes he wouldn’t do that. “I promised you, didn’t I? I… kinda fucked it up again, but we’ll start over. We’ve got each other.”
Tommy makes a face. “I hate starting over.”
Wilbur laughs sadly. “You’ve done a little more than your fair share, huh?”
“So have you.”
“I chose you. You didn’t choose you.”
Tommy thinks about Wilbur’s injury. He dreams about it, sometimes, the sickening sound of a nightstick connecting with Wilbur’s skull, the dead weight of Wilbur’s semiconscious form, the way Wilbur’s eyes didn’t focus properly for days. He thinks about how Wilbur chose him, so irrevocably, and doesn’t even remember.
“Hey Wilbur?”
“Hmm?” Wilbur locks eyes with Tommy, and for once there is nothing in his expression except care.
Tommy’s stomach twists and sours his resolve. He looks out the window at the setting sun. “Thanks.”