Chapter Text
Tubbo knows that Tommy always means the best for him. He’s his best friend after all; with everything they've gone through, Tubbo can't imagine Tommy ever doing something to hurt him. But sometimes Tommy is so caught up in keeping tubbo safe he forgets how much it hurts to watch him exhaust himself being the hero.
When Tommy comes back from his random trek into the woods around the market, tubbo can tell something is wrong. There's no way Tommy could actually hide it from him. But he lets it be, because Tommy will tell him in his own time. Then their conversation on the rooftop happens, and Tubbo knows something is wrong wrong. But still, he trusts Tommy, and he tells himself he’ll wait one more day before pressing him.
And then he wakes up to see Tommy, across the room, making sure his respawn crystals are attuned. That is when tubbo knows that action is needed. Because tommy, foolhardy, brave tommy, always makes a habit of attuning before he does something he knows is dangerous. Tubbo was a spy, after all; noticing the little details is what kept him alive. As much as he trusts his friend, this is the same boy that challenged dream to a duel. Tubbo wont just stand around trusting when his friend obviously needs help.
That's how he's ended up pulled into the brush by a scowling tommy, before he can see whoever he was talking to.
“Tubbo! What are you doing here!” Tommy whispers, his hand firm around his arm. They’re both crouched awkwardly in the bushes, sticks and leaves tangling in their hair.
“I can ask you the same thing,” tubbo pouts, “leaving without telling me, especially with the way you’ve been acting the last day, I was scared!”
As they lock eyes for a stubborn moment, the bushes rustle once again, someone is peering down on them. A someone he hasn't seen for a year, ever since he’d been roped into a plot to blow up the city they’d sworn to protect.
A heartbeat of silence passes, broken by tommy's voice.
“Well, this is just fantastic.”
Tubbo’s mouth has dropped in shock, but he tries to regain composure despite the fact that Wilbur, Wilbur, is standing in front of him.
His mind is racing a million different places at once. Surprise, fear, concern, they all churn in his gut and leave him speechless. But a warm hand wraps around his, and he knows that despite how mad Tommy must be he is still right beside him.
Wilbur clears his throat, shifting awkwardly. “I, uh, would you like to come out of the bush and talk?”
Tommy nods, and tugs tubbo out into the small clearing. Wilbur looks… familiar, and different, all at the same time. The same brown coat he’d started wearing once they’d been exiled was now patched and worn, and his glasses had tape holding the frames together. He stood hunched slightly, no longer standing tall and proud and arrogant. There were new scars dotting the skin tubbo could see.
“It’s… it's good to see you again, tubbo.” Wilbur speaks, breaking the silence. Tubbo doesn't know how to reply. He doesn't even know if it’s good to see Wilbur again. Instead, he nods, squeezing Tommy’s hand a little bit. He isn't scared of Wilbur, but the shock of seeing him has thrown him off his rhythm. Wilbur has definitely noticed this. “Do you want to sit down, ask me whatever questions you have? I have my own, of course, but I feel like yours might be more pressing.
Tommy looks at him, and they have an entire conversation with just a few looks. They both know the other meant the best, and while they might now have taken the best routes to protect the other no harm was really done. Tommy nods to Wilbur, and the three of them sink into the grass.
_________
They settle down a couple feet across from each other, cross legged in the soft grass. A bee hums next to them, and with the ambiance of the forest it almost felt like before the fighting began, when they would sit together for hours. Wilbur has missed it. He’s missed them, so much, and here they are now and he is absolutely dreading the questions they’ll be asking.
(Really though, he dreads their reactions to the answers)
“ Alright,” Tommy starts, taking the lead. “First up, you said before it’s gotten worse back there. How? What’s happened?”
A sigh escapes Wilbur lips. “Oh, where to begin… I suppose I’ll start with the festival. My plan failed before it even started. Schlatt found out about the TNT under Manburg before the party even began. He caught me sneaking into Manburg, took all my things and made some rousing speech about ‘democracy always wins’ and all that load of crap. I really thought he was going to kill me, but…” a lump forms in his throat, and try as he might the words won't come out.
“And?” Tommy questions, leaning forwards.
He has to continue. They deserve to know. As much as it hurts, they deserve to know.
“He called Niki onstage. I tried, I tried so hard to get to her, but all I could do was watch. And he just… he killed her. Schlatt killed Niki, because of my plans.”
Tubbo’s hand fly’s to his mouth, and wilbur sees Tommy’s hand tighten around the other boys. His eyes are cold and hard as ice. “But she came back, right wilbur.” He says, more a statement than a question. “She’s okay, she respawned right?”
“She came back,” Wilbur nods, trying to keep his voice steady. “But she was… she’s blackened now, Tommy. And schlatt’s been holding her hostage because of that.”
Everyone in this world knew that, thanks to some strange magic, death was almost never permanent. It wasn't known how, or why, just that some strange power saw fit to give them more chances at life. But it couldn't last forever. Nothing does. And this strange cycle of life and death was the same way. You never knew how many times you got to respawn, but what you did know what when your last time had come. Black veins, creeping along a person's skin, was a telltale sign that their next death would be permanent.
Wilbur could remember schlatt’s smile, peering down on him from behind bars as he slung an arm over nikis shoulder. The horror at seeing the dark veins on nikis cheeks, sliding down her neck. Complete despair at knowing that all of this was because of him.
“ No,” Tubbo whispers, the first thing wilburs hears him say. “Not Niki, she didn’t— how, how?”
A wave of shame rolls over him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to find out this way. I couldn't keep it from you.”
Tension has made itself very clear in Tommy, his teeth practically cracking with how hard he’s gritting them. Out of all of them, niki being blackened… it was a familiar arrow in his chest. Niki was no innocent civilian, she had as much staked in the war as anyone; but she'd always been the voice of reason, the softness to balance the cruelty of a revolution. The fact that she was now closest to being gone forever…
A soft breath escapes wilburs mouth, eyes soft with pity. “She’s safe though,” he continues. “Turns out Quackity’s as sick of schlatt as we are. He doesn't like me much, but he watches out for niki, makes sure she’s doing okay. Sometimes, I can even visit her.”
Wilbur can see Tommy’s hands shaking slightly, poorly concealed with an iron grip on his sword. He knows the look in the youngest eyes; complete and utter rage, the kind that only gets cooled by vengeance. It’s understandable, but worrying. Considering the last thing Tommy did when confronted by something bigger than him was run off to who knows where.
Tubbo on the other hand looks like stone, still and drained of life. His face drips with heavy, solid guilt, his shoulders bending under some unseen weight.
Everyone has their own way of grieving sunburn supposes, his fingers loosely running over a few loose papers in the bag hanging at his side.
“What about the rest of it?” Tommy asks, his face screwing up as if the words were bitter. “Manburg, pogtopia, the rest of it. What… what’s happened to them all?”
“And why are you here?” Tubbo follows, his tone not-so-gentle.
Anxiously, wilbur interlaces his fingers, pressing them against each other until they crack, releasing the tiniest bit of pressure. “I told you a little the other day I suppose, but I can answer both of those questions and probably create a few more. Schlatts gone out of control. He didn’to stop with Niki, or when I was behind bars. Bullshit laws, forced enrollment in his guard, it’s complete tyranny. Once dream and techno got me out we just… ran. It’s up to us now to try to come back with the people to fix this mess.” Bandaged fingers run through his hair as wilbur lets out a strained laugh. “I never dreamed I’d find you two. Thought you’d be on the other side of the work by now, not some tiny town.”
“Guess we didn’t walk far enough,” Tommy grumbles. His sour mood isn't concealed at all, and that drives a small song of guilt into Wilbur’s heart.
“Listen, Tommy… I can leave. I’ll turn around and never speak a word to anyone about this. Nobody need to know, and you can back to your idyllic escape, and your world can be alright again. But…”
Tommy braces himself. We need you, they need you, they’re dying, think of anyone else. He’s ready for whatever guilt wilbur is about to shovel on to him.
“Good lord you two, I’ve missed you so much.”
There’s a soft pause of breath in which Tommy tries so desperately to process emotions he’d locked deep, deep down.
This was wilbur, violent, volatile, manipulative wilbur. But it’s also fucking wilbur, who taught him how to light a fire, who held his hand when his dreams got too much, who held him close after every victory.
Tubbo is looking at him wide eyed, as if he’s feeling the same things in another color. If there was more time and less of the past to wade through, they’d go home and talk this out over a warm cup of honeyed cider. The fire would glow, their unsteady bones would feel warm, and the decision could feel honest. But this is now; these are two boys who need to make a decision that would affect not just their lives, but the lives of an empire.
They locked eyes, an imperceptible decision made at the same time.
And with that, fate was decided.