Chapter Text
Sam ran his hand along the prison wall as he walked through to Tommy’s cell, he had never been so relieved to enter the prison. For once he would come with good news, he’d finally fix his mistake. His hand felt the corner of the wall, indicating to Sam the turn. Unfortunately, losing a life didn’t undo the damage done by Dream, his vision remained clouded, certain parts of his vision were completely blacked out. He supposed there was no real reason to be sad about it, these things happen, and frankly, he was glad he could see at all. The soft glow of the lava-filled his clouded vision and he made his way to the lever, pulling it down and listening to the sound of the draining lava, hopefully, he would never have to pull it up again.
He had to admit, riding the platform across the lava was a lot more terrifying than it used to be. In the cell, he could see Tommy curled into his usual corner, a blur of blonde hair and an orange jumpsuit.
“Hey, Tommy,” he said softly, approaching the poor boy and holding out a hand “come on, let’s get you out of here,” Tommy’s head slowly lifted up and he was silent for a moment.
“Sam? What happened?” He asked with genuine concern, Sams hand drifted to his eyes for a second before he shook his head
“It’s a long story, how about I tell you later?” he said and brought Tommy to his feet “come on,” Tommy didn’t follow.
“Is Dream allowing this?” Sam paused as he heard the question.
“Yeah, yeah, he said he made a mistake,” Sam smiled at Tommy, not that he could see under the mask. Tommy backed up further into his corner.
“He didn’t,” he breathed “you’re lying,” Sam sighed and stood in front of Tommy, placing his hands on his shoulders, he could feel Tommy shaking.
“You’re right, I am, but I’m not leaving you in here,” he said and began to pull Tommy away from the corner, he pulled back against Sam.
“Sam, don’t,” Tommy whispered, barely audible over the gurgling lava outside and mechanic whirr of the prison. “It’s safer if I stay in here, that way I can’t hurt anyone else, so please, just go,”
“I’m afraid that’s not happening, Tommy,” Sam said as he began to push Tommy towards the platform, Tommy stumbled away from Sam and stared at him, breathing heavily.
“Sam, please” he huffed out through breaths “don’t,” well then, hard way it is. Sam picked up Tommy in his arms who immediately began to fight back, flailing wildly to get Sam to put him down. If there was one thing the warden was sure of, it’s that he would fix this and right his wrong. He held onto Tommy tight the entire walk out, trusting his feet and memory to carry them both out of the prison, by the end of the walk, Tommy was sobbing quietly into Sams chest. He regretted ever letting Dream near that cell. His mind flooded with regrets of the past, of all he could’ve done to prevent this, there was nothing to be done about the past now, however.
The moment he pushed the door open he planted Tommy safely onto the grass where he stayed, head buried in his arms, refusing to look up. Sam looked at the small group of Nightmares who had gathered to welcome Tommy out and gave them a pleading to look to please help him, although he certainly did not have to ask Phil who had hurried over. Phil knelt next to Tommy and coaxed him into lifting his head, a choked sob escaped Tommy's throat as he saw the sun for the first time in months. Many people had seen Tommy as a hero or a villain, saviour or terrorist, but he was just a child, and he never looked so old.
Ranboo understood, of course, he didn’t know the intricacies of Tommy's mind but due to the echoes of the Dreamon he had heard when Dream had… used him, told him enough of what had happened to Tommy. Ranboo’s hand fiddled nervously with the purple flowers stalk as he slowly approached Philza and Tommy where they sat on the grass. He was never the best with his words, especially not with expressing what had happened these past few months, what had happened to Tubbo, but he knew that Tommy probably felt just as he did; scared and alone. Ranboo slid the allium into Tommy’s now long hair. Maybe now, they could mourn their long-gone friend, together.
A dead boy kicked his legs in the air as he sat on the roof of a prison that came right from his nightmares. He stared down at the group, at his two best friends and wished he could join them, but that would only bring them more pain. What’s dead should stay dead, after all.
“I know it’s difficult,” a voice echoed behind him, ghostbo’s head whipped around to see Ghostbur standing next to him, looking relaxed as ever. “But it does get better,”
“When?” Ghostbo asked, wishing he hadn’t sounded so desperate, Ghostbur shrugged in reply and sat down next to him on the roof.
“Honestly, I don’t know, even I have bad days. What I do know though, is that someday, we will feel like ourselves again,” it was an idea that felt centuries away, no matter what they did they will always be separate from who they were when they were alive, but still, as Ghostbo looked at his friends below, he smiled and wished his alive self could see them.