Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It was off to have the White House filled with people again. Not that Tubbo had been there during the bulk of the times that it has been empty, that right was reserved for Fundy and Schlatt, but just the feel of the building, he could feel the loneliness radiating off of everything. And to start hearing the movement of people around the hallways was strange.

Everyone at Pogtopia moved in. Wilbur got to work with the paperwork and office, getting Manburg back together, scrapping all of the resources that they could spare to start to help people as much as they could. Quackity was right there with him, hovering over the desk, comparing ideas, and papers to try to decide what was the best for the most amount of people. Tubbo and Fundy stayed out of it. If they had not been forced to, the young ram thought that he would anyway. He was done with that kind of thing, and never wanted to look back.

Technoblade and Tommy took care of most of the domestic housework, occasionally going out into the city to clean up something, or some grunt work that needed to be done. While Tommy was not as strong as Techno, he still had the strength of a soldier and had his own way of helping out.

But most of the time they were at the White House, doing chores around the home. Cleaning, fixing things, making food, all the while they bickered and argued with each other, in the most light-hearted way, the way that only brothers could.

And they checked up on Schlatt a lot as well. There was always someone with Schlatt, most of the time it was Tubbo himself, but he got dragged out of the room every once in a while, to eat, sleep, and just get outside, with promises that he would be in good hands while he was gone. And he always was, and it was not like he did not trust them, but there was a crawling in his skin anytime he had to leave his father that did not subside until he was back at his side.

Techno said that he was fragile. Techno said that his body was so very fragile. That they needed to try to put the least amount of stress on it, so it could heal him as best as it could. They were trying to help as much as they could, which never felt like enough. There was an IV that they changed every once in a while, to make sure that he was getting the nutrients and water that he needed, kept him not too warm, but not too cold, and never, ever left him alone.

His wounds healed slowly, but the fever was the first thing to break. It had just been a normal day, Tommy making jokes while Techno got the man ready for the day, medicine, IV, and made sure that things were all in order. Tubbo held Schlatt’s hand in his own but smiled at the antics his best friend was pulling. It had become something as routine, after the big breakfast that they all had together, Wilbur and Quackity would go off to see about the country, to make sure that it was not going to collapse in on itself. Fundy would go run errands, just whatever that they needed for that day, and other odds and ends, sometimes he would catch up with them, and just hang out. Tommy, him, and Techno would clean up breakfast, and then go and take care of the comatose president for the day, before going to do the rest of the work that needed to be done. Someone would come by at noon to kick Tubbo out, get him some lunch, and let him just do whatever he wanted to do for the rest of the day.

It was one of those days where Fundy stuck with them, the fox lounging in one of the chairs, smiling at the joke that Tommy was telling, but his eyes stuck on Schlatt, and not letting them up.

Tubbo must have zoned out, or got too into the conversation, he did not even see Techno take the thermometer out of the medicine bag, or how he help it up to the president’s forehead. He did not realize what he was doing until he heard the deep hum, and all in the room fell silent.

Techno looked up at the eyes on him, showing the thermometer to the group, with a slight smile.

“His fever broke.”

He held his hand a little tighter, being conscious to not squeeze it so hard that it would hurt him, but just enough so that he knew that he was not alone. Schlatt had only gotten seconds of consciousness every once in a while, but he was never coherent enough to know what was going on around him or to answer any questions. Techno said that was a good sign for brain damage, that he probably had a concussion but there was no real danger of him slipping into a coma or anything, at least long term. At the moment, he was just resting. A long, long rest.

Other than the fact that they were taking care of a very sick person, things were domestic. Techno picked up his role as caretaker and provider again, and it started to become rare to see him with his armor on (although the sword and ax on his side never really went away. Tubbo had a feeling they never would).

Tommy started to seem a little happier from the four cave walls of Pogtopia, more bright when his sunshine did not have to hide in exile. Wilbur seemed to be doing better as well, he had a purpose and what he wanted all along, his country, even if it was under a different name. But even as he worked, it was much less possessive than it had been in the past. A lot more like he was taking care of something for a friend rather than holding something for himself, determined to never let it go. It was nice to see and made Tubbo breathe easier with the knowledge that his father would wake up at some point.

Quackity was fine, but not much beyond that. Functional was how he described it to the ram one night when neither of them could sleep, and found each other at the same place, at Schlatt’s side.

“I’ll be better when he wakes up, and I can start apologizing and make up for everything that I did.”

Tubbo got it. Even if it might not have been healthy he felt the same. Fine was about as fast as he was willing to describe his feelings, he would be better when his father woke up finally.

Fundy was the same. There were many times when he would take over for Tubbo, and he would find the fox curled up next to the ram, or whispering words that the man absolutely could not hear, but it made him feel better, so that was really what mattered.

Something that was all people needed.

But the first time that he opened his eyes, it was late at night. Tubbo had not been able to sleep that day, so he did what he normally did when he could not sleep nowadays. He went to see his father.

Slipping out of his bed, onto the hardwood floors, and into the hallways, still in his fluffy, soft pajamas. They made him feel young. A few months ago, he would have done anything to feel grown, to feel like an adult. But recently he would do childish things, and do things of his age. Wearing pajamas, and not just some soft pants and a random T-shirt he had. Eating sugary cereals for breakfast. Asking whoever had made dinner if he could have a treat after eating all of his vegetables. More often it was Wilbur, Techno, or Quackity. They never reacted more than just a soft smile and told him that he could, something even getting it for him, reaching up to the top shelves where the treats were kept. Tommy and Fundy had seemed to catch on and were doing the same. They never went too far but did things that he had seen other kids in Manburg do. It felt nice, normal even. And Tubbo had never wanted anything more.

He creaked the door open, seeing the form of Wilbur sitting in a chair pulled up to Schlatt’s bedside, a book in his hand, soft candles giving him all of the light that he needed to be able to read, but not disturb the man laying in bed. It was not like it mattered too much, but it was a nice thought.

He was in his lounge clothes, shedding the more professional ones that he wore while working. Plaid pants, with a plain gray T-shirt, it was a little odd to see the man so relaxed, but it felt normal in a way that Tubbo could not describe.

Lifting his head, Wilbur looked at the young ram slipping into the room, closing the door behind him, and plopping down in the chair next to him. From the slight light, Tubbo could just make out a silhouette of a smile.

“Can’t sleep?”

“Not really.”

“It’s been getting colder as of recently. We’ll probably get the first snow here in a few weeks.”

Wilbur took his eyes off the book, to look up and down at Tubbo’s slumped form.

“You should probably get heavier sleep clothes.”

“Are you judging what I wear to sleep, Wilbur?”

“Well, I mean yeah, it’s going to be cold, and you’re probably going to want something warmer to sleep in.”

“Wow, the Wilbur Soot hates my pajamas, can’t believe this.”

He spun around to look at the boy.

“No, that’s not what I meant.”

“No, I get it, you’re just so cool with your pants and shirt.”

“Have you been hanging out with Tommy recently?”

“What do you mean, we live in the same house, how are we-”

There was a low, deep groan, gurgled with disuse, and pain. Tubbo was next to his father’s side before he could even register what he was doing, Wilbur on the other side of the bed, where a table was sat, filled with the various medical supplies that had been used to treat the man.

Tubbo reached out, touching his shoulder. It was warm, but not the raging fever he had at some point. A throaty cough, before his eyes, peeled open, slow and sticky, but open nonetheless. His golden square eyes were unfocused and confused, trying to take in the things that were around him.

But he seemed to see Tubbo. And he seemed to immediately smile at the sight of him. And Tubbo breathed a sigh of relief, taking Schlatt’s hand into his own, pressing it against his cheek, and nuzzling into it.

“Hey, bud.” Tears welled in his eyes, hearing a voice that his brain had half convinced him that he would never hear again. Not saying anything back, but getting closer to his dad, crying a little harder.

“Don’t talk Schlatt, your body is still very weak.”

His head moved as well as it could with the giant horns on his head, looking at the other person next to his bed.

“Why do I think that is a ploy to get me to shut up for a little bit longer?”

Wilbur chuckled, before starting to get to work on all of the things that Techno had set out ahead of time, a laundry list of things that the ram man should take when he woke up, things that they could not give him when he was asleep.

Tubbo did not say much that night, he barely said a word, just holding Schlatt’s hand in his own, and soaking up every bit of his presence that he could, with greedy intentions to steal every bit of what was left of the man. Just in case this was a hopeful dream, just in case this was all just a trick of his brain, he was going to take in what was left of his father and hold it close, never letting it go again.

The other two were silent most of the time as well. Gentle instructions were given and followed without a hassle. A few sips of water, some medicine, a very small bit of food, and a heating pad make the room as comfortable as possible.

Distant chimes of the bell tower announce that it was four am, when Wilbur was finally done with everything, going back to his spot next, picking up his book where he had left off.

And Tubbo crawled under the covers and relished in the way that arms wrapped around him, and how he did not have to do it himself. A living breathing person holding him close, and kissing the space in between where his horns were poking through his head.

“I’m glad you’re alright Tubs. And I am so sorry.”

Pressing himself deeper into his father’s side, mumbling his protest just under his breath. There was no way that he was heard, but that was not the point. It was the fact that Tubbo did not beehive what his father was saying. Not that he was sorry, there was no denying that he was sorry in every single way that he could be, but there was no reason for him to be sorry. But he did not have the words to weave a net that would catch the falsely placed blame and help him in a way that mattered and just let himself get held closer.

Later, when it was not four am, Quackity and Fundy were there, bursting into the room with ragged faces, out of breath from running the moment they heard the news. There would be tears, and jokes when no one knew what to say. A conversation that would sit on everyone’s tongues, but would get pushed away from Schlatt’s own exhaustion and the need to start getting food into him. Quackity. Fundy and Tubbo would not leave his side through it all, and that was the way it would stay for a long while after. But, for right now, they were near, and that was all that Tubbo needed.

Schlatt had never known Technoblade well. He had known that the man was joining the server when he exiled his brothers and the reputation that he had built up over the years, but he did not know the man personally. Even professionally.

So to have a man as big as him, gently wrap his wounds, and spoon feeds his medicine, ask questions about symptoms and how he was feeling. It was something he would have never expected, but Techno fell too seamlessly into the role, and Schlatt relaxed as well.

“Breath in.”

He did, the cold stethoscope against his chest following his chest movements, and expanding as his lungs filled.

“And out.”

A slow and controlled breath.

Tubbo had been sent away as soon as the piglin had woken up and was informed about everything that was going on. Not without a pout on his lip, being steered to the door by Wilbur, while Schlatt was left alone with the man who was playing doctor for the moment.

He did not know how to feel. Emotionally, physically it was easy, it could be summed up to bad. But he kind of expected himself to die. He did not expect to be awake at the moment and was still reeling from everything that was happening. So it was easy to do the small tasks that he was being given. Which was mostly just to breathe. Something in his brain was surprised he was ever able to do that again.

“You’re lucky to be alive,” Techno said, moving to the bandage on his head, unwrapping them, an assortment of supplies on the bedside table. Schlatt felt awkward like he should be helping, but he doubted that he would be allowed to. “If you were one of my brothers, I would have said a god was watching over you.”

He laughed.

“Have good luck with the gods?”

“You could say that.”

The soiled bandages were placed down, and warm water joined the strands of hair, and between his horns. He knew the wounds around his torso were next, which he was not excited for, but there was a sense of safety with the piglin. Maybe he had never really felt safe in his life, and knowing that there was a giant pig man who seemed to care enough about him that he was being taken care of, settled his nerves a bit.

“I don’t think any of the gods would really want to save me,” the confession felt wrong in the silence that they had created, but it would be too hard to put the words back where he found them.

Techno hummed.

“I found it better to just forget that they exist. They are going to do what they want, regardless of what people want.”

“And what about your god? The one watching over your brothers.”

“She’s different.”

He rolled his eyes in good nature, fiddling with his hands a bit. Gods he regretted the time that he knew was coming. Talks. Tears. Explanations. He wasn’t ready for it. He didn’t know if he was ever going to be ready for it.

“What am I supposed to do? After this, after I am told to go back out there, and face my son? What am I supposed to say? How am I meant to move on from all of this?”

A sort of cream was put on his cut, and he winced a bit at how cold it was. It felt wrong asking for advice, but, with any luck, Techno would leave, and they would never have to see each other again, and he would never have to face what he knew was ahead.

“In my experience, time makes that choice for us, and more often than not, the answer is that it is going to keep going no matter what we do. People will keep going, and don’t really care where you are. It’s your choice whether you want to go with them or not. Any progress is good progress when the alternative is just standing still. It does not matter where you start, just that you do start.”

The profound statement felt like wrong coming out of the battle-scarred warrior, but it fit in a way. Techno finished the bandages on his head,

“Of something like that. That’s probably something that my dad would say, he’s a lot better with these kinds of things.”

Schlatt laughed.

“Gods, having Wilbur and Tommy as kids, I could never imagine.”

“Imagine being their brother, even worse.”

He laughed a bit more, before a cough and holding his aching ribs. Why did everything have to hurt?

“Your dad sounds like a good man.”

Techno smiled, before starting to undo the bandages around his torso.

“He is.”

It had been a few days, and as soon as Quackity and Fundy learned he was awake, it was impossible to get them to leave his side. Neither him nor anyone else could get the trio to leave him. Parasites really.

And they talked, there was no way that they couldn’t. Some serious, some more light-hearted. Somewhere they cried, and others where they had to stop because Schlatt’s ribs hurt too much from laughing. Often declarations that they would kill Percy and others when Schlatt told them not to. It would open a whole can of worms that none of them were ready for. Even if he was a victim—which he was still coming to terms with, no matter how many times he was told, and then told that none of this was his fault, a part of him did not even feel like any of it was real—Percy was rich, and that meant they would not get the justice that they wanted. And revenge was out of the question, no matter how many times Techno said that he was more than willing to lead the charge. And no matter how many times they cheered after the offer.

Oftentimes it was just the four of them, Schlatt, Quackity, Fundy, and Tubbo, just talking the days away. Sometimes Tommy would join them, but he seemed uncomfortable with being in the same room as the ram, so he did not stay long. Techno popped in just to help make sure that infections did not set in, and Wilbur almost never came around. And as time went on, as time moved forward without them, Techno had been right. Quackity started to help more with the country, Fundy had things to do, and Tubbo was encouraged to actually go outside. It didn’t hurt, Schlatt understood. He was still tired most of the time, and a stack of books was more than enough to keep him busy, they did not need to be around all of the time. But they still made it a point to come around often, which he did appreciate. So when he heard the door open, he was more than expecting it to be one of them, lifting his eyes from the book to greet them. Only to come face to face with ice blue eyes, a scowl, and the curly blond hair of Tommy Innit standing in his doorway.

His voice caught in his throat. This was not what he had been expecting, not at all. He had not had much interaction with the teen, he was pretty sure the other was scared of him, and he did not blame the blue-eyed boy. And yet Tommy stood in the doorway, seeming a little frozen as well.

“Come on in, if you came all the way over here,” Schlatt gruffed, pretending to return to his book, without reading any of the words.

The door shut, and there was the sound of footsteps until they stopped at the chair beside his bed. They sat in silence for a bit more before Tommy whispered his question.

“Why did you exile Wil and me?”

He put down the book with a sigh. Ah, this was what had been on the boy's mind. Of course, he wanted answers, but maybe not the ones that Schlatt had for him.

“When Quackity asked me to help him run for president, his main point was the fact that Wilbur was not stable. That he was letting the power corrupt him, and he was going to hurt people. I guess that was the part that finally convinced me to come. That and I owed Big Q a favor.

“I got here and saw the hunger in his eyes. I had seen it in every class that I took in college, every deal that I have made in the business world and every hand that I have shaken. The hunger for power. I guess it spooked me. Not something that I had been expecting at all, a part of me thought that Quackity was exaggerating, but to see it told me all that I needed to know.

“And then there was you. His little brother, following him into battle after battle, his biggest supporter, and Tubbo’s best friend. There was no way that you were going to just let him go. So the easiest way to protect people, exile both of you. Just for a while. Just until I got things figured out, it was never going to be for forever. But I guess I should have said that from the start, would have made things a lot more simple. And then I got caught up in” a pause “things, and it was not something that I could get around to. But I should have. It should have been a priority, and I’m sorry that it wasn’t.”

It was not what he wanted to hear. He knew that, because how could someone be happy with that answer? But it was all he had, and all he could hope for was that it would give him some sort of closure.

Tommy breathed out a heavy breath, Schlatt glancing over to where the child was sitting. A leg was pulled to his chest, while the other was allowed to swing. His face was hidden from where his arm was balanced on it, not looking at the ram, but looking like he had a lot to say, but not the words to say it. A blend of both of his brothers, one with not a lot to say, and the other with everything to say.

“Wilbur was doing bad,” Tommy said after a moment, “he was doing bad when he was exiled, and that did not help. Before Techno showed up, things were so bad. He was out of his head, saying things that really scared me, and it was really really bad.”

Schlatt’s heart ached. This kid had been through so much, a kid just a year younger than his own child. And yet he had been the one to cause him suffering. That had been the point of all of this, to try to minimize harm, and yet here he was, hurting someone who did not deserve it at all.

It did not feel good, but the bad part of his brain relished at how bad it felt. He deserved it in some sick way. But he tried to not think about it, and offer the last of the advice that he had to the hurting boy.

“I’m sorry that that happened to you. I thought what I was doing was best for everyone, but it wasn’t and I regret it. If I could go back, I would do everything differently, but I can’t. All I can promise is that I will be better in the future.”

Tommy looked at wherever he was looking, before finally raising his gaze. Tears were standing in his eyes that had yet to fall. Schlatt would be surprised if they ever fell. This boy was stronger than he knew, and the ram could only hope that there was some softness to go along with that strength.

“If Techno did not show up when he did, things would have been bad. Really bad. And I don’t know how that would have turned out. But I’m glad he did. He has this way of just fixing everything.”

Schlatt smiled. Yeah, he saw that.

“Yeah, he does.”

“I don’t forgive you,” that was fair, “but I want to. Cause your Tubbo’s old man, and if things are going to get better, then I can’t hate you forever, even though I could try.”

He worried for nothing. There was plenty of compassion in this boy, he was overflowing with it. He just hoped that he could be a person who was worthy of that kind of compassion.

“Thank you, I appreciate that.”

“Yeah, well, when you’re as big of a man as I am, you have to make some sacrifices.”

“And what sacrifice are you making?” Schlatt leaned a little closer to him, his chin resting on his hand, a grin on his face.

“I would never tell.”

“Of course.”

“Yeah, bitch.”

Silence was over the room once again, but Tommy was not someone who liked silence, so he was quick to fill it.

“So what are you reading?”

“Well, it’s this story about a plane crash…”

It was odd to think that he had fallen into a schedule, him a schedule. Disgusting. Not that it was an intensive one, but he still could not leave his bed. He had tried, once, only to get to the hallway before falling into a coughing fit, and immediately ushered back into bed. He had just wanted a glass of water, and even that was too much for him to handle. It was embarrassing to be back where he had been not too long ago, but this time, there were more people, and no one was going to let him up, not even for a second.

But, to make sure that he did not die of boredom, he was allowed into the White House drawing room, which he did not even realize they had. Helped into a wheelchair in the morning, from either Tubbo, Quackity, Fundy, or whoever was around, and he would be wheeled over there. It was a big spacious place, with rugs that had been rolled to the side to make sure that his chair could roll more smoothly. A giant window that took up almost an entire wall, and then some, bubbling out into the outside a bit. Smelling of old pages, oak wood, and cinnamon, there were tables and comfy chairs to go around. Walls and walls of books, paper, and journals that he could entertain himself with. A stack of games to play for whenever someone was in here with him, which was often. Tubbo and Tommy had started to gain a liking for checkers and would play against him often, or until they were tired of getting beat round after round.

There were very rare moments when he was alone. As much as he loved his son, he also wanted him to go out and be a kid, not be glued to his sickly father’s side for who knows how long. His crushed legs could take years to heal, they purely just had no idea. Schlatt tried not to think about it and steered clear of the medical book section of the library. After conflicting schedules, Quackity off to oversee some project being built, Fundy off to help, and Tubbo with Tommy and Techno, Schlatt was left alone in the drawing room, setting up a game of chess to play himself, when the door opened. Revealing the fluffy-haired Wilbur, poking his head in.

“Ah, I was able to catch you,” the ex-president entered the room, shutting the door behind himself.

“Yeah, like I can go anywhere,” he gestured to the layers of hoodie and blanket that had been put on him to keep chills away. And the most embarrassing part was that it was not unnecessary. Even if the White House was very warm, he seemed to have lost his ability to regulate his body temperature. He shivered violently without them, and as much as he hated it, they were cozy and warm against his skin.

Wilbur moved into the room gesturing to the set-up chess board.

“Mind if I join you?”

“Sure, battle of the minds.”

“Yes of course.”

“Wilbur do you know what they called me in college?”

“What?”

“They called me ‘chess man’ because I never lost a game of chess.”

“I’m shaking in my boots.”

To prove his confidence, Schlatt let him go first. A pawn out, and the game began.

The sun was just starting to crest into the height of the sky, even if Schlatt had only woken up recently. Frost was starting to creep on the glass windows, a roaring fire the only thing keeping the newly fallen frost and snow at bay. Schlatt pulled the blanket around his legs a bit higher on his lap, as he made his fourth move, in complete silence.

And just as he predicted, the silence did not last long, Wilbur starting to speak at the fifth move.

“I would like to first say that I am sorry. I talked with Tommy and gave him my apology as well, but I think you deserve one just as much as he does. I know I caused a lot of strife and harm. I was not in my right mind.”

For a man of many words, the apology was surprisingly short. But it did what it was supposed to, it was not like Schlatt was angry with him.

“I think you should save that apology for Quackity, he was the one who got me to come here when he realized the path you were on. I was just the figurehead of everything.” Wilbur snorted.

“Sure, ‘figurehead’ is what they call the president that nearly worked himself to death from stress. Such a figurehead.”

“Yeah, well, felt like a figurehead, most of the time. Don’t look into that.”

“Of course, not concerning at all.”

“Alright, loverboy, let’s talk about the fact that you went a little crazy in, what the fuck did you name it, Pogtopia, and had to get your older brother to save you. That sounds more concerning to me.”

“Oh seriously, I wasn’t the one who got alcohol poisoning at a party that was supposed to be celebrating the accomplishments of hybrids, and had the worst friends in college.”

Schlatt flinched. Just a bit, but he did, shrinking into his chair a bit, before taking his next move on the board. A few of his pieces were gone but that was alright, he could still win the game. It was not like Wilbur had not lost anything either, his pieces standing on Schlatt’s side like a victory.

“Percy was barely my friend.”

“My point still stands.”

It was more harsh and biting than he had been expecting. He was sure that the ex-president caught onto it as well as he took his rook.

“Everything he did was probably illegal, you know.”

Schlatt took his bishop.

“Let’s talk about something else.”

“Like what?”

“What is your plan now? Want your country back?”

Wilbur’s hands did not shake when he took Schlatt’s queen.

“I think Techno would disown me if I did that. And I don’t know if you would be so willing to just give it up like that.”

“Eh, well, you never know.”

“Got enough of a taste of power.”

Schlatt put down the piece with a little more force than was needed.

“It was never about power Wilbur. I have all of the power that I could ever want. As long as Tubbo is safe, I could care less about anything else. I do not need a country to have power. I came over because Quackity told me an old buddy of mine had gone off the rails, and he needed my help to make sure people did not get hurt. I owed him a favor.”

“Some favor.”

It was so bitter that Schlatt could taste it.

“Are you pressed about losing the election? Because if you are, just say so, and drop the act of being remorseful, because that is just going to bite you in the ass.”

Now his hands were shaking as he set down the piece. He was so weak. He hated every bit of this.

“I didn't mean it like that. I am sorry. I guess I am still a little bitter about everything that happened.”

“Yeah, not hard to tell.”

“I’m sorry.”

There were much fewer pieces on the board. Almost all of Schlatt’s pieces were on Wilbur’s die, and only a few of his opponents he had captured. The game had been determined a long time ago, they both knew that, but Schlatt was not going to just surrender, even if he knew he was going to lose.

“I am sorry Schlatt. I have made a log of mistakes, and the last thing that I want you to think is that I am disingenuous in my apology. I am sorry. I was an ass, I created a bad environment for a lot of people, and I was too power-hungry for my own good. I can admit that. But I can also admit that I did want to do good. It was not all hunger, I wanted to make a safe place for my brother and the people here.”

“What was so wrong with things before?”

“It was not so much about what was wrong, but what could be wrong. In the future..”

Schlatt nodded. He got it. He had squirreled away food, just in case. Just in case.

“My question still stands,” there were no more of his pieces, just his king, and he was running as far as he could. It was only a matter of time.

“I was hoping that you would allow me to help run this country. It is still my passion, and I have things to make up for. With someone who is going to keep me in check, but I want to help.”

It was a well-timed cough on Schlatt’s part. Wracking his thin chest, shaking it to its very core, as his lungs worked much harder than they should have to try to help him. A hard, thick, painful swallow followed, and he shivered, pulling the edges of the blanket tighter around his shoulders. Prime it was cold.

“I don’t think I will be doing anything any time soon. If ever.”

It was Wilbur’s turn to swallow, genuine concern on his face, looking the man over a few times, to make sure he was not just going to fall apart. Schlatt rolled his eyes. He knew he looked bad, but hopefully not that bad.

“Quackity will probably take over. I have no idea how my company is doing, but I doubt that I could go back, just physically. That, and I don’t think I would be able to fall back into old habits.”

“So you are staying here.”

There was something of hope in his voice. Which was not what he was expecting. Annoyance, yes. Bitterness, absolutely. The feeling that he was taking over a place that had been Wilbur’s. But there was no feeling of that at all. Just hoping that he would stay, at least for a little longer.

“I don’t think I could tear Tubbo from the first friends he has made.”

Wilbur smiled as he put Schlatt into checkmate.

“Good. Maybe you can get better at chess while you’re here.”

“Oh fuck off.”

“Breath in.” Schlatt followed the order, taking in as big a breath as he could. His lungs almost reached capacity before he coughed, the last bit of his exhale stuttered, and broken against the sides of his throat.

“Don’t pass out on my table, that would be cringe,” the piglin hybrid said blandly, putting the stethoscope away.

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

He pulled his shirt back on, covering the bandages that still covered his chest. They were getting better, but with how strained his body was when he got the injuries, it was a very very slow healing process. One that he had been watched the entire time like a bug under a microscope. The concern was nice, if not a little unsettling at times.

“Your organs are not mush, so that is pretty good,” Techno stated, putting away the instruments again “But if you have alcohol again, there is a chance that they just shut down.”

He had been expecting it, but it did not stop the sharp breath from pulling in. Techno kept going.

“You're still weak, despite the rest and food, but that’s expected. We’ll keep up with that, improvement will happen, it might just take a while. But there was irreparable damage done to it through the alcohol, the stress, and probably a million other things. If there was ever a chance to go cold turkey, it would be now, because there is no going back from this.”

Maybe the truth hurt more than he was willing to admit. Alcohol had always been such a crutch to him, something he could return to at a moment's notice. To pour himself a glass, and swirl the liquid around, looking out onto some city, deep in thought, that was something he had done even when he had been broke. It was a constant that he did not know was so heart-wrenching to hear that he would never get back until the words were out into the world. No more alcohol. Or else he would be dead.

“That’s probably not what you want to hear,” Techno stated, putting everything back into its place, his back turned to where Schlatt was fiddling with his shirt like a nervous kid who did not want to get a vaccine. He appreciated the privacy, even if he wasn't sure that Techno knew what he was doing.

But he also laughed.

“No, not really.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. It’s my fault anyways.”

The sound of things being put away stopped for a second, the piglin hybrid freezing in place for a second, before keeping on with the task. There was a lump in Schlatt’s throat. He had said something wrong.

“Do you really think that?” Techno asked.

“I don’t know if it is more of thinking, rather than knowing. It’s kind of hard to get someone else to drink so much that they screw up their body like I have. It was a choice that I made over and over again, and now these are the consequences of that choice. That’s just how it is now, not like I am going to cry about it,” he did feel like crying, “this what happens when you fuck up so bad.”

The words stung in his throat, swallowing hard to try to get rid of the feeling. It was not a pleasant one. But it was true, it was not like he was blind to what he was doing to himself, this is just what happened when someone made bad choices, he was ready to accept that fate.

“I’ve heard a bit about what has happened.”

Yeah, Schlatt was starting to pick up that everyone has heard ‘a bit.’ It was not like he blamed his cabinet for talking to people, that was probably the healthiest thing to do. But it did sting to know that his sins were spread through to people he did not know very well. That he knew how broken and awful he was, even if it was not hard to see, he would like to think that he kept some level of dignity, but apparently not. It was not like he had much of that left if the fact that Techno had to carry him up to the table said anything about how he was doing.

“And I don’t think that much if any of it was your fault.”

Schlatt’s head snapped to where the piglin hybrid was. He was shocked. No, stunned because that thought had not even crossed his mind.

“How can you say that? Do you know what I have done?” He didn’t want to say everything he had done, gods that was the last thing that he wanted, but Techno having the wrong idea seemed cruel.

“I know that you were pressured into doing some things that you didn’t want to do. And that you suffered because of that.”

“That party was my fault, and also not the first time that I’ve had alcohol,” there was rage filling up his throat. He didn’t know what. Tears pricked at his eyes.

“Sure, but also I doubt you ever wanted it to get as bad as it did.”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

His hands were balled up, gathering up his loose sweatpants into them, and not letting go. He hated this. He hated this so much.

“I’m sorry.” The piglin sounded sorry, and awkward at bringing it up in the first place, but Schlatt was getting tired of people apologizing to him. It messed with his head and made him dizzy in the worst way.

He was helped back into his wheelchair after that and taken back to his room. Now more than anything, he wished that he could just do things on his own, and not be such a burden to everyone around him. His ears burned bright with embarrassment as he was placed into his bed, and fell asleep within a few minutes. Because of course sitting up was too much work for him now. Of course, he was that weak.

He woke up a few hours later, a bit groggy but nothing that he could not shake off. There was a slight shuffle of pages, and pencils against paper, the only thing disturbing the silence of the room. He laid there for a few more minutes, just still, taking in the presence of others, the domestic sounds of people just existing around him. It was something he was learning to appreciate more nowadays. The reminder that he was not alone. But there was only so long that he could keep the charade up.

There was a shuffle of papers for someone to get more comfortable, and the creak of a chair. A pause a bit more creaking, before a voice followed behind it.

“Schlatt?” Quackity, and there were a few more movements behind the innital movement, which meant there were other people in the room as well, and he had a good guess of who they were. “Are you awake?”

“Yeah,” he groaned, rubbing his eyes a bit, opening and looking around the room at his cabinet that was in different chairs all around the room, all looking at him with different levels of concern that physically hurt to see. He struggled to sit up in the sea of pillows he had been sacked with, propping himself up, catching his breath a bit, and trying his best to not make eye contact with anyone. He had a very good idea of what this was going to be about. ‘A bit’ of news apparently went a long way.

Fundy and Tubbo sat up a bit, setting their various activities aside, his son looking around a bit, before getting a little bit closer. It was Quackity who spoke first.

“We should have had this talk a while ago, and I think you know what it is going to be about. Do you want to wake up a bit more, get some food, or-”

“Stop, just stop,” he scraped his hands down his face, picking the hardened crusts out of his eyes, trying to make them stay open for at least a little bit longer. Prime this could not be happening right now. “I know that you three mean well and trust me, I appreciate it, I really do, but we don’t need to have this conversation, and I would rather that we didn’t. I don’t need you all to make excuses for me, I am an adult, I can admit when I have screwed up. Let’s just leave it at that, please.”

A glance was shared between all of them. He already knew that was not going to happen, but it was worth a shot.

“Schlatt, it’s not about you taking the blame for this, especially since we were the ones who messed up. We’re the ones who left-”

“Stop, see this is not what we are going to do. I don’t need your apology. That’s not how this is going to work.”

“Why are you so resistant to us just taking responsibility for what we did?” Quackity asked, anger starting to bubble up in his voice. Ah yes, that felt like home.

“There is nothing that you need to be responsible for” Schlatt hissed “I am the wretch of a drunk that messed everything up, let you all down by drinking at a party, and I got what was coming to me. Even everything that Fundy did I did not deserve, so if anything I should be apologizing, because I don’t think that I have.”

The words burned his throat in the best possible way, and he felt a rush of satisfaction. He had never called himself a drunk out loud, to people, but it felt liberating. They were no longer lying about what he was, they were no longer hiding behind nicer words, and fake smiles. He could say it with his full chest, no matter how much they flinched back as soon as the words left his mouth, it still felt good. It felt intoxicatingly good. The fact that he was right, a self-fulfilling prophecy, he was right about what a terrible piece of human garbage he was.

The others ducked their heads. Tears sheared Tubbo’s eyes when he spoke.

“Is that really what you believe?”

“It’s not what I believe, it’s what I know. It’s true.”

“And the party?” Quackity choked out, sounding like he was suffocating when Schlatt was breathing free for the first time in so long.

“My fault. All of it. I hurt all of you with my actions, and I am so sorry for that. I will never forgive myself for that, and I do not expect any of you to do the same. It is only fair.”

Quackity’s wings were high above his shoulders in irritation, and Fundy’s ears flattened against his head. And Tubbo, his sweet son, was curling in on himself as much as he could, trying to make himself disappear, ears flat against the side of his face, silent tears falling out of his eyes.

And Schlatt did not understand. Not even a little bit.

“Ok.” Fundy’s voice wavered, filled with water and unspoken sorrow, but he stood up anyways, guiding Tubbo with him, supporting the young ram with his body, gently guiding him out of the room. “Ok.”

For the second time since he had been back, Schlatt was alone, sitting in the room that haunted him, and the bed that was his prison. The familiar ache of loneliness wasted no time in setting in, and he relished in how it hurt, laying down again.

A tear or two slipped out of his eyes before he finally got to sleep, his arms wrapped around a pillow, wishing that he did not have to listen to his own thoughts alone.

Writing just for the fun of it had never been his way of doing things, mostly because he never had time for such things. But it had become a hobby that was easy to pick up when there was literally nothing else to do. The leather journal was placed atop a pillow to balance it, empty breakfast plates on his bedside table, just writing down whatever came to his head, when there was a knock at the door.

“Come in.”

And for the second time, the head of Wilbur popped into the room, in a casual yellow hoodie, and black comfy pants. It was snowing recently, piles of the white stuff visible from Schlatt’s bed, his walkout balcony that never got used. It was a peaceful morning, the silence of the snow seeming to have seeped into the room, but the chills stayed outside where they belonged.

“Hey, Soot.”

There was no response. Just the movement of cloth made Schlatt look up from the page, watching as Wilbur settled onto the chair near his bed, running a hand through his air, before resting his elbows on his knees, and pressing his fingers against his mouth, an intense look that could eat the ram alive.

“What?” he was waiting to say something, Schlatt knew that. But there was no reason to stall. That was just delaying what he wanted to say.

“Why won’t let people help you?”

He put his book down. Dropping it on his lap, mouth hanging open, and brain trying to struggle to catch up. Because what?

“I don’t-”

“Yes, yes you do.”

“They’re helping me, they’re helping me more than I deserve.”

“So you’re not letting people help you.”

Schlatt rubbed a hand down his face, dragging his skin down a bit with it. A headache was creeping behind his eyes. Dealing with Wilbur was not something that he had been expecting to do today, and he was not in the mood for it at all.

“Alright, what the fuck do you mean? I’m here aren’t I, that’s helping me.”

“You let people not let you die, doctors do that in war, regardless of what side they are on.”

“Well, it’s a good thing that we’re not in a war.”

Wilbur sat back, crossing his arms over his chest, looking down at him with a cold stare. Even if they were at the same level, Schlatt kept himself from squirming around like a bug that had been squished down still.

“I get it.”

“What?”

“I get it. I understand how easy it is to make everything your fault. How easy it is to take the blame for everything bad that happens. How easy it is to put that weight on your soul because you don’t want anyone else around you to hurt the way that you are. And because you’re already beyond saving, what is a little more weight on top of that, right?

“And it feels good, doesn’t it? To suffer? It gives you a purpose. It gives a reason to feel something. No matter how many nights you cry yourself to sleep, no matter how much you want to die, there is something that keeps you from reaching out and doing something about it. Because it feels good. And then people start to notice.

“And if they ignore it, you are validated. You were chosen to suffer, this is your purpose. If they thought otherwise they would do something about it. They must think that you deserve it. And if they do something about it, they are wrong, they are misunderstanding what is happening. They don’t understand how flawed you are, or how much you deserve this. They are just trying to make things better because they pity you, or they feel like they have to, because that is what you are always going to be, a burden. That is your purpose. That was what you were made to do.”

Wilbur stood up and leaned in close. Schlatt couldn’t move away, shocked still, paralyzed by his fear that someone was laying out his darkest secrets before him. And there was nothing he could do about it.

The ex-president got a few inches from his face, a hand on the bed to support himself, the same rage in his eyes that burned so well.

“I know because I did that. I know because I did the same. I refused to let people help me because I was convinced that I deserved it. I didn’t let Techno give me food, I refused any comfort that Tommy gave me, because I am a disgusting person who deserves this and nothing more. I refused to let people help. I could not understand why they cared, or why they were lying to me. Or in what universe they would even think about caring about me?

“And then Techno cornered me one way and asked me why I wasn’t letting people help me. I had the same reaction that you did, people are already doing so much for me, how could I accept more? And do you know what he told me?”

Schlatt numbly shook his head. More of a plea to not keep going when his mouth would not cooperate with the rest of his brain. Because he couldn’t take it.

“He told me ‘sucks, you don’t get to decide who or how someone cares about you,’ and then threw me over his shoulder and gave me a full course meal, forced me to shower, and then sat next to me until I slept. And I took all of it. I took all of what he gave me. Because he was right. That was not the last time that I refused his or Tommy’s help, nor was that the last time that I was told those words. But it got better. Slowly. Accepting things started to feel good. It didn’t feel as wrong as it had before. Taking help didn’t feel like guilt that was going to crush me at the end of the day, that the other shoe would drop, and everything that I loved would be gone. I would be back where I was, and it would hurt more because I got used to being loved rather than just staying in pain. Because as much as going feels good, it feels good to hurt because it means that no one can hurt you more than what you already feel. It’s a shield that hurts no one but yourself. And my brothers have yet to leave.

“So I am going to ask you again: why aren’t you letting people help you?”

He did not realize tears were rolling down his face until they dropped down in the covers.

“Oh.”

Schlatt reached up, trying to wipe them away. But more just came out. More started to fall. More starting to pour onto his hands.

“I-I can’t stop, I can’t, I’m-”

Two arms wrapped around him. His face squished into a shoulder, warm hands on the back of his head, holding him in close.

“It’s ok. You deserve help. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“I’m- I didn't mean, I’m.”

“It’s ok. You can cry. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

He buried his face deeper into the man’s collarbone, his body shaking with sobs, muffled and silenced from habit but he fell apart just the same. Only this time, he had someone there to hold him, press him close, and make sure that the pieces did not shatter when they hit the ground.

“Are those agreeable terms for you, Dream?” Wilbur asked, looking at the admin sitting across from the dark wood desk. Schlatt's office had been put back together a while ago, and this was the first time he had gone back into it since. It had been strange. There was an ache in his chest that sprang up at it, but he shoved it down. Wilbur and Quackity had asked if he wanted to be there for their final negotiation with Dream. He thought that it would be a good idea.

They were admitting defeat. They were not continuing whatever cycle of violence they were stuck in, a path that Techno told them would be long and bloody if they continued down it. This was their chance to get out of it when there was just one person hurt, rather than an entire country.

Tubbo and Fundy fumed at the decision. Quackity did too, but he understood the importance of it. He understood that they did not have another choice if they wanted to keep people alive. Revenge was not going to be worth it. It never was.

Dream sat across from them, arms and legs crossed, looking proud and tall, considering what they had laid out for him to consider.

They were taking down the walls. They would involve Dream in any policies that they would do, anything that involved the land, and SMP as a whole, rather than just little laws that they put in place. Any trades or outside deals that they made would have to go through him first, and he would get a voice in the things that were done to his world.

The admin had perked up at these terms, looking less closed off to everything that was happening, and actually considered his answer rather than just answering hastily. The more Schlatt thought about it, the more he could understand where Dream was coming from. If he had a world, one that he had allowed people to generously come onto, he would want a way in everything that was done to it as well. He knew that most people in the White House did not forgive him, or even really want to make this deal, but Schlatt did.

He did not know if that was a good or bad thing, but he thought it was more unfair to hold a grudge against him.

The admin’s smiling mask lifted to them before he spoke.

“Yes. I agree to the terms. And in return, if you need firepower, I am willing to help.” Dream stood up, shook all of their hands, and was gone in less than a minute. There was no telling if that was a good or bad thing, but Wilbur and Quackity sighed after he was gone.

“So that’s it,” Wilbur said, looking between the two other men in the room.

“Yeah, just about.”

It felt too easy. It felt too clean to be real. But Schlatt was going to take it, and enjoy it, just in case it did blow up in their faces, which, god he really hoped it didn’t. They deserved a break. L’Manburg deserved to live.

“Come on,” Quackity got up, and grabbed the handles of Schlatt’s wheelchair, “the others want to have a movie night in the drawing room.”

“It’s like, 3 pm,” Wilbur followed with a smile.

“Do you want to do more work today?”

“I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

The three made their way down the lively halls, the most noise they had in a long time. The drawing room doors were open, and there was shouting inside of it, the scrambling around of claws and feel against hardwood.

They turned the corner, and Schlatt could not help but laugh.

There was a mess of blankets and pillows on the ground, behind was a projector that had cords half haphazardly strewed across the ground. All of the couches have been moved aside and stripped of their cushions, most likely under all of the blankets. Techno leaned against a shelf, with his arms crossed, watching as Tommy, Tubbo, and Fundy looked in a standoff with each other. Tommy had a spray bottle, while Tubbo had canned whipping cream, with Fundy holding a spoon close to his chest.

“We don’t have to do this!” Fundy cried, trying to get out of the stand-off circle.

“Says the man who started it all,” Tommy shot back, “now get consequences, bitch!”

“Wilbur, your younger brother is being a terror,” Techno drawled, looking at the two that had just entered the room.

“He’s your brother too” the man walked right up to Tommy, taking the bottle of his hands, surprised as the teen was, and turned it on him, spraying him. Tommy bristled and screamed like a cat. “Stop that.”

“Oh, you’ve done it now.”

The piglin warrior now decided to get up, scoop the boy up by his waist, and throw him over his shoulder. A high-pitched scream erupted from his mouth.

“Put me down Techno! You don’t want the wrath of Tommy Innit on you.”

“Whatever shall I do.”

He was flipped down onto the pile, safe as he could be with all of the cushioning, but he screamed nonetheless, with Techno shifted so his entire body weight was pinning the teen down, no matter how his lanky limbs flayed.

“Oh god we’re free,” Fundy sighed, not putting down his spoon, but started over to where Schlatt was. “How was the meeting?”

“Fine,” Schlatt would like to leave it at that, his head hurt from just staying up for as long as he had, but he knew he should add at least a little bit more. “We have peace, at least for the foreseeable future. And that’s about as good as we could ask for.”

The fox hybrid nodded and left it at that. None of them had the energy for politics at the moment. The more simple it was the better.

His wheelchair was parked near the edge of the pile, Quackity holding his forearm while he was helped out and into the blanket pile. The curtains over the windows were closed, draping the room in darkness.

At least three blankets were thrown at him before he told everyone to fuck off with the blankets, and the rest of them started to get ready for the movie, while Schlatt just relaxed for a bit, leaning his head down with a sigh.

A weight sat down next to him. Lifting his head, just a bit to see Tubbo, a huge grin on his face, looking at his father.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.”

Schlatt opened up his arm, letting his son snuggle close to his chest, and wrapped him up tight, while Tubbo did the same. They both wanted to be sure that the other was close.

There was a few seconds of peaceful silence, even if the ram knew that there was something that Tubbo wanted to say, he would wait for it. A deep, unsteady breath was his cue that he was ready.

“I am sorry. About everything,” he started, playing a bit with his fingers, “I know that this is probably not something that you want to talk about right now, and I get that, but I have to say it. And you can’t just say that it is ok, or that you deserve it, because you don’t, and I should have tried harder, and done better, and-”

Schlatt butted his head against his son’s in affection, effectively cutting him off from the rambling words, before smiling down at the confused face of the child he would do anything more. Wilbur’s words still echoed in his head, they had been there ever since. He did not get to choose who cared about it, but he could do the next best thing.

“I forgive you.”

He relaxed immediately. And Schlatt did forgive him because he did not really believe that there was anything that he needed to forgive the teen for. But maybe he would. One day.

“Scooch,” Quackity announced, wiggling in on the other side of Schlatt, lifting his back a bit, and slipping a wing in behind him. Fundy followed suit, going on the other side of Tubbo, while the three brothers wrestled Tommy in between them, keeping him still with relative ease, despite his cursing and struggles. He would calm down soon.

The movie was starting but Schlatt did not even make it 10 minutes in before he fell asleep, head resting against Tubbo’s, Quackity’s wing another blanket around him, Fundy holding one of his hands in his own. Techno also did not last long, falling asleep before they finished their first movie, the darkness pulling on his eyelids. The rest got food and snacks, waking the two of them up to eat, before putting on more movies. By the time their fourth film had ran out, the moon was high in the sky beyond the thick curtains, and the White House was quiet. The soft breaths of sleep, and quiet snores. Three brothers, all squished together, the strong one holding the others close, the singer holding the smallest, the smallest holding the hands of the other two. Wounds that had healed between the three, and a promise to be there.

And another family, one that was a bit more patched work, a father and his son, with two others that cared so deeply about them all. Snuggled up close, a limb on each other, just to make sure that they were all there and safe. It wasn’t perfect. Work was still needed. But it was a start. They had chosen to care about each other, and they would not have it any other way.

~fin