Chapter Text
Tommy had never known blind grief before the moment that rocket went off. He had not yet felt the numbness, the kind that fills your whole soul as you stumble forward and you aren’t even in control of your own body anymore because everything is too much and-
Somehow he made it to the stage. Wilbur was nowhere to be seen, but gasps rippled through the gathered crowd as Tommy appeared. Perhaps, they whispered, he was the prodigal son who had come home to right wrongs, to overthrow the tyranny and brutality of their ruler. Perhaps he has come to save them.
Tommy had no such ideas of grandeur as he fell next to the crumpled body of Tubbo. Nobody dared to disturb him as he wept, not even Schlatt, who was looking on smugly from the corner, nursing his own wounds from the blast. Quackity had stumbled backward in horror and clutched onto Fundy, who had barely reacted as Quackity crashed into him, frozen in shock.
“Tubbo,” Tommy choked out thickly. “Tubbs? Please, please wake up. It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay. We’re gonna go,” he sobbed pathetically,“We’re gonna go home now. Real home. Phil- Dad’s gonna make cookies for us, warm cookies, Tubbo. W- Wilbur is gonna play his guitar in the window seat. The one crusty with dirt because we always put our shoes there and Mum said we should clean it but we don't and- Oh god, Tubbo, please just come back. I-” His voice broke, and he heaved a wet sob “I need you.”
Burns beyond anything Tommy had ever seen claimed Tubbo’s face and neck, sticky blood pouring from deeper orifices and wounds. Tommy stripped his jacket and weakly attempted to clot the blood. And the blood. There was so much blood Tommy felt like he was drowning in it as he desperately searched for Tubbo’s pulse. He shouldn’t have checked, he already knew the answer, but the tears still came when it was nowhere to be found.
“I’m sorry,” Tommy sobbed, gathering Tubbo’s cold form into his lap and brushing Tubbo’s hair away from his face. “I should have stopped him. I- I could have.” Tommy held his best friend's body tight, blood soaking through Tommy’s white tee until both boys were bathed in red. Tommy didn’t care. He was about to be blown up anyway if Wilbur had any luck.
Then Tubbo began to fade, slowly turning to ash and blowing away in the wind. He only had one life left now, one fragile, mortal life, and it was all Tommy’s fault.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Tommy whispered into dead, glassy eyes as Tubbo’s hands and torso began to fade. “I’m going to stay,” he hiccuped pitifully. “right here the whole time.”
And when Tubbo was finally gone, his ashes whisked away in the autumn wind, Tommy tipped his head back and screamed. A blood-curdling, wet, scream of pure anguish and hatred. Schlatt covered his ears, the remaining audience grimaced or turned away, and Techno slinked away unseen through the shadows. Tommy ran out of air after a few seconds and was forced to breathe, shakily getting to his feet and staring out at the assembly with puffy red eyes filled with grief and rage, burning through all they landed on with hellfire.
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When the boom of the rocket sounded, Wilbur was already gone, sprinting over the hills in lanky, desperate strides. He’d had enough of Schlatt, and now was time for his end. And Techno. How dare- how dare his brother to turn on an ally like that. Falling to his knees, Wilbur began to tear rocks away from the opening where he had hidden his button. Shards of shale fractured under his fingertips and cut his hands, but still, he dug and tore, clearing the way just as he reached the opening-
It wasn't there.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit.” Wilbur cursed, pacing frantically. “This isn't the right hill, this isn't the right hill, this-” Then he heard the scream. The earth-shaking scream of his youngest brother, far off in the distance. Wilbur would know that sound anywhere. Perhaps Techno had turned on him too. Wilbur was in no state to fight, but once again burst into action, his muscles screaming as he tore across the hills. Wilbur skidded into the plaza in time to see Tommy turn on Quackity, swinging at him as Purpled, Quackity’s bodyguard, held him back from converging on the vice president.
“Tommy!” Wilbur hollered, and Tommy’s head snapped around, his body going still. “Tommy, we have to go!” His words seemed to break through to Tommy, who wrestled from Purpled’s grasp and scrambled off the stage and into a nearby alleyway. Wilbur tried to push his way out of the crowd when a sharp cry shattered the chaos.
“You- you killed him! You killed him. How could you be so cruel?” Niki wailed, the rest of the plaza going quiet. She fell to her knees and the crowd parted around her, allowing Wilbur a clear path to her side. “My boy,” she whimpered. “My little boy, it’s okay, I’ll take care of you, it’s okay.” She was catatonic, cradling what appeared to be Tubbo’s suit jacket, which had fallen from the stage in the chaos.
“Yeah,” Schlatt spat, leering at her from the stage, feeding off her grief. He already had a bottle of whiskey in his hand. “Yeah, I did fucking kill ‘im, Niki. Whadahell do you want?” She doesn’t answer, once again reduced to sobs. “You have been a thorn in my side, ever since I took office!”
“I don’t even want to be here!” Niki yelled, shakily rising to her feet, the crowd’s gaze following. “I hate you. I hate everything you stand for. I hate your fucking country.”
“Niki,” Quackity whispered down at her, worry seeping into his voice. “Niki, please sit down, this isn’t going to go well.” He knelt on the side of the edge of the stage, in an attempt to meet with her at eye level. The perfect level for her to tighten her jaw and spit in his face.
“No!” She retorted. “I will no longer be silent in the face of this tyranny!” She held onto the jacket as if her life depended on it, staring Schaltt down with eyes of fire, much like the ones that Tommy had not ten minutes ago.
“Ya’know what?” Schaltt slurred, taking another swig of his bottle. “Fuck you. I’ll spare you your life, but ya canfuck off. Leave.Do you want outta this country? Fucking leave.” He slumped back into his chair, beckoning for Quackity to join him at his side. Quackity looked defeated as he stood and shuffled back to his fiancé's side. Schlatt’s arm slung out around Quackity’s waist, tugging him closer. The Vice President winced at the close contact and the liquor rolling off Schlatt’s breath, despite the fact that Quackity was supposed to be in love with him.
Niki stuttered for a moment, conflicted with the opportunity she had been given. “Where will I go?” she asked quietly, no doubt remembering the way that Wilbur had shut her out, had denied her refuge when she needed it most.
Wilbur crossed into the clearing that Niki had created, silently appearing behind her shoulder. She knew it was him immediately and she bristled at his presence, keeping her gaze straight ahead.
“Wilbur,” Quackity choked out from Schlatt’s side, his watering deep eyes meeting Wilbur’s stern and warm ones. When Quackity searched for answers in Wilbur’s eyes, Wilbur only shook his head. Now was not the time for them to decipher whatever they felt for one another. Not when there were more lives at stake. Purpled quickly unsheathed his sword once more, stepping in front of Schlatt and Quackity, the latter of which removed his dagger, but Wilbur suspected it was just for show.
“Oh! Wilbur’s,” Schlatt hacked a cough before continuing, “Wilbur’s here?” He quickly swung his legs to an upright position; immediately met with a headrush, causing him to sway in his seat.
“Hello, Schlatt,” Wilbur said coolly, not moving from his position behind Niki.
Schlatt’s eyes struggled to refocus, and he squinted at the form that was unmistakably Wilbur Soot.
“Oh my god.” Schlatt groaned as if to imply this day couldn’t get much worse. Wilbur chuckled darkly before steeling his resolve.
“If you have to kill anyone else today, kill me. Leave Niki out of it. She does not deserve your ire.” Niki gasped quietly and turned to look at Wilbur finally, tears once again threatening to leak from her eyes.
“Will-” He did not respond to her, rather placing his hand on her shoulder. He wasn’t going to leave again. Not when she needed him. Never again.
In the standoff that had proceeded, Technoblade slunk out of the shadows and reappeared at the foot of the stage, standing in between Schlatt and Wilbur. Tommy followed close behind, warily standing behind Technoblade, who raised his crossbow and pointed it at his twin brother. Wilbur held his breath, and then Techno suddenly turned to aim the bow at Schlatt.
“I will protect my brothers against you,” Techno said, rolling voice cascading over the plaza. Schlatt scoffed as Techno protectively pushed Tommy behind him.
“Holy shit, Wilbur,” Schlatt complained. “ I mean, y- you really just… crawled up here… on the day of my festival celebrating my country… that you are not a part of, and started whining. I was only going to murder Tubbo!” Schlatt defended, slinging his arms about wildly.
“Well pardon me for defending my best friend when it sounded like she was next.”
“Who? Oh yeah, Niki. That little monster. Well, now that you mention it, yeah.” He motioned Purpled forward, and the guard raises his crossbow. “What a great-” He coughed again, and this time his hand came away bloody. “I might actually murder Niki too. I might do it. Tubbo, hand me my,” He reached behind him, freezing as if to realize that Tubbo was dead. “Oh fuck he’s dead. Uh- Q, hand me my bow.”
“What?” Niki tenses, hand darting to her throwing knives. Her nerves are evident, but she does not back down.
Wilbur has to make a choice. How much is this girl worth to him, to his mission? If he caused a distraction and ran, it would be a sign of weakness, of fear. Tommy and Techno, still poised at the bottom of the stage, could be caught in the crossfire. He should let her die. It makes the most tactical sense, in the long run. She would be fine, he knew, if a bit scarred. Who isn’t in the fight for freedom and revolution? He should let her die.
But it’s Niki.
Somehow, despite all the reasons not to, he leaned down into her ear.
“Niki?” he murmured.
“Yeah?” came the weak reply out of the corner of her mouth.
“Run.”
Wilbur turned abruptly and began shoving the crowd away from Niki, trying to give her an escape. She froze for a moment, unable to move as the chaos erupted around her.
“Just run! Run now. Run now!” Wilbur hollered, snapping Niki out of her trance. She took off across the plaza, guards close behind her. This was how Wilbur wanted her to remember him. Saving her, being her friend.
Not her betrayer.
A guard he didn’t know rushed toward him, and Wilbur easily ducked beneath his blow, landing his own in the guard’s stomach before slamming his head into the stone plaza. The guard grunted before going still. Two more approached Wilbur, but Techno was there to help, one hand firing his crossbow while the other swinging with his sword.
Wilbur has never been a fighter. He and Techno would spar when they were young, and sure, he had fought a few soldiers in the revolution, but he would never claim himself a soldier. Fighting alongside Techno certainly highlighted that, his brother moving with such poise and grace while Wilbur stumbled around, dodging blows and scuttling between swords. Schlatt was in the background, wildly firing off bolts, unable to get a clear shot in his drunken haze. Wilbur heard the voice of his only son, Fundy, berating the president for his irrational actions.
Wilbur froze for just a moment, and his eyes met Fundy’s. Instead of calm or relief, Wilbur only found hatred and pain in his son’s eyes. Eyes that seemed to say, get out. So he listened.
“Techno! Tommy!” Wilbur screamed, jumping above the din. “We are outnumbered, we need to go!” The two boys managed to hear him, and they all tore away from the skirmish and rushed into the hills the chaos crescendoing behind them.
They ran until they reached the edge of the forest, elderly oak trees reaching grandly above them. Tommy had stumbled once or twice, his gangly legs twisting beneath him. Each time, Wilbur would double back and lift his brother, dust him off, and together they kept running. Not quietly, with Technoblade's armor clinking loudly together, and Tommy’s loud complaints, but together.
“Wait.” Tommy gasped, stopping to hunch over once more. “Just wait a minute. I can’t,” he heaved, clutching at his side. “go on much longer.” Tommy groaned loudly and knelt on the ground before curling up into a ball and beginning to cry, his grief settling over him once more.
“Tommy? Tommy!” a young voice shouted as a horned figure came crashing through the underbrush and into Tommy’s arms. At Tubbo’s embrace, Tommy began to cry harder, sobs racking his whole body, full of pain and relief.
“It’s okay, shhh, it’s okay. I’m here. I’m here.” Tubbo soothed, stroking Tommy’s hair with deep tenderness, just like their mother used to do.
“I’m sorry,” Tommy choked, lifting his head to stare at Tubbo, who now sported a large scar on the side of his face. “I’m so sorry. I did this, it’s my fault, it’s my fault, oh god, Tubbo-”
“Shh,” Tubbo continued. “It’s Schlatt’s fault.” Tubbo turned to nod at Techno, who respectfully inclined his head. Understanding. Not forgiveness, not yet, but understanding.
“Come on Tommy,” Tubbo said, helping Tommy to his feet. “We have to keep running.”