Chapter Text
Ponk woke up to their own faint shivering, registering something as terribly wrong within seconds and through a haze of half-consciousness.
Soon, they were fighting their way out of strange bedsheets and into a sitting position, locking eyes across the room with a familiar teenage face, fear etched into every inch of it.
The walls were dark with blackstone and obsidian, save for an exception, which bore a steel door flanked by reinforced bars.
Ponk stepped out of bed, shivering as their bare feet connected with the thinly-carpeted floor. She looked around, throat tightening with every detail of her new reality.
Alongside the bed a few feet from his own, there was a chest and crafting table up against one wall, clear of dust. Certain spots in the cracks of obsidian rocks or bricks glistened, as if it was still drying from a scrub, and the room smelled both slightly damp and of faint cleaning chemicals all at once.
It had been freshly prepared.
Tommy seemingly had no such curiosity, shaking where he sat in the bed, chest heaving and wide eyes fixed on the wall.
Even within her own growing panic, it was plain to Ponk he was not looking good, and she couldn’t help but wince pityingly.
Recognition of the blackstone and obsidian walls struck them like a bolt of lightning.
“Is this the prison…?” Ponk mumbled, flinching as the teen beside him let out a flabbergasted squawk and shot to his feet like a bullet.
Ponk hadn’t seen much of the prison’s interior, but Sam had shown her, once or twice, before— before everything had become so complicated—
“SAM!” Tommy cupped his hands to his mouth and screamed into the air, stumbling forward to throw himself against the door, knees shaking under his own weight. “SAAAAAAAM!”
The boy’s voice was shattering with terror , and Ponk’s feet instinctively moved forward to go to him, to do something. “Tommy, hey—“
“SAM!” Tommy stiffened at the response, pounding a fist against the door. “SAM, let us out!”
“Tom—“ Ponk gently pressed a hand to Tommy’s back, only for his whole body to jerk violently as if he’d been burned down to the bone.
They could feel the kid’s heart beating out of his chest, and they flailed for what to do, reaching desperately for words of comfort. “Tommy? Hey—hey… breathe, man—“
She settled hesitantly on the bed, movements slow, deciding to put off escape until she had at least calmed Tommy down from this… panic attack?
“Breathe with me.” They kept their tone low and calm, hands folded upon their lap.
“Sam, he said—a week, up to a week—you don’t—he’s gonna—with his mask and raw fuckin’ potatoes, he—“
“Hey, you’re okay,” Ponk fought away a tremor to the words, trying to put conviction and comfort behind every syllable. “You’re okay.”
Tommy spun around with clear indignation mixing with the panic, as if the suggestion was atrocious.
Ponk took the opportunity to breathe with great exaggeration, pointing a finger at their chest rising and falling. “Come on down,” he suggested, watching Tommy’s eyes flicker down to his chest and he gulped in air.
The teen removed himself from the door and settled himself on his own bed, still making an effort to follow the deliberate breathing pattern.
It worked, for the most part, as the shake in Tommy’s body gradually lessened and a sharper awareness returned to his haunted expression.
Just as Ponk was going to talk to him, maybe ask him how he was feeling, about if he knew what happened, whether his head was also hurting, anything, Tommy’s red-rimmed eyes caught on something just over Ponk’s shoulder, and his eyes lit up.
“Sam!” The teen pushed up from the bed and made his way to the barred wall.
“Tommy?” Sam, decked out in his Warden gear, all glowing with power and enchantment, was on the other side of the wall now, his entire form partially obscured by the bars. Though he was a kind soul, he loomed, his shoulders broadened by the armor.
His voice was warm and deep down, caring, always feeling like an enveloping hug, but this time the embrace was just… too tight.
It was… intimidating, but that was okay!
Sam was here , and he’d straighten out whatever the hell was wrong here, and—
“Sam!” Tommy shared his relief, body slumped in a happy pile of goo. “God FUCK—!”
The creeper hybrid opened the cell door, allowing a grey blur to dash in and slam against Tommy’s legs.
“AH—“ Tommy stopped himself from tumbling as he grabbed the fluffy monster, a grin of delight breaking out. “Fran! My favorite woman!”
He paused to pet the sweet doggy, her tail wagging so hard as to nearly break the sound barrier.
Ponk was tempted to go and join them, but there was something too wrong for him to go along with the cheerful distraction.
She uneasily gazed up at the architect, watching Tommy and Fran with deceptive warmth, putting the pieces together but asking anyway, hoping to be terribly wrong. “Sam, what happened? Why are we here?”
But Sam ignored the questions. “Everything is okay. You’re both safe.”
The lines resonated as familiar instead of comforting.
Sorry, Tommy. Fran’s not home right now. She’s safe. She’s happy and she’s safe.
Ponk opened their mouth and closed it.
Sam was too calm, his seemingly content disposition making Ponk uneasy.
Wriggling and giggling, Tommy managed to escape Fran’s all-encompassing cuddle attack, and dashed up to the door. “Prime, we need to get out of here—“
Sam struck out an arm, a barrier between them and freedom.
The boy came to a stop, eyes wide and confused.
Ponk’s stomach dropped down to the cell floor.
“Tommy…” Sam’s mouth thinned, but he stuck to his words. “Look, I’m not letting you out.”
Ponk watched the boy deflate, and, worse, be overtaken by creeping horror .
“What?” He laughed, disbelief masquerading as amusement. “Big S, what the hell are you…” The smile was rapidly dying as it settled in. “What did you just say?”
If it was a joke, it wasn’t funny.
Ponk hoped it was a joke.
“I don’t think I stuttered, Tommy.” His voice was deceptively warm, yet firm. Like he was telling Tommy he couldn’t eat molten-hot pie, instead of damning him to eternity in this this cold, dark, fucking cell—
Tommy winced as if Sam had slapped him, and he quickly recovered, his face reddening. “What the FUCK?” He snarled, eyes widening as Sam stepped back and slammed the cell door in his face.
“S-Sam?” Ponk tore their eyes away from Tommy, who looked like a caged animal, chuckling to release the tension a little.
“This really isn’t funny. You’re scaring him—“ He gestured to Tommy, who didn’t argue, simply staring with quickening breath at the closed door, which honestly was so much worse . “Joke’s over! Let us out!”
Sam sighed. “This isn’t a joke.”
Tommy shrunk back, clutching Fran tightly. She licked his cheek, blissfully unaware.
Ponk didn’t know the kid as much as she would have liked to, but he’d clearly been through some major shit .
Sam had rarely been anything but peaceful, but Tommy looked at him now like the cow gazes into the eyes of the butcher, and Sam didn’t seem surprised to see it.
“What the HELL, SAM?!” Ponk yelled, glaring through the bars. Sam flinched.
Despite his otherwise foreboding appearance, his eyes betrayed guilt. “The server keeps getting more and more dangerous, I need to protect you, and I KNEW you’d never let me do it willingly.”
Ponk tried to speak, but couldn’t wrap their head around this situation enough to formulate words. Was this real? Was this actually happening? Sam, locking them away, locking Fran away…
Sam sighed, tugging his mask down to rub at his face. “Look, I’m going to let you guys get settled in, okay? I know this isn’t fun.” No one moved. “I’ll come back around noon, and we can all have brunch. How does that sound?”
The prisoners remained silent.
…
The warden left.
By the time noon rolled around, they were very very hungry. As the adrenaline wore down, it became rather apparent they had been knocked out for a while, and there was only so much entertainment a relatively empty cell could offer. It was cold, and frankly, it was somewhat awkward. Neither of them were up for much conversation with all the processing of the situation–and they weren’t best friends in the first place.
So when Sam’s footsteps grew close to the cell and he was finally visible between the bars, it was a welcome change. The door swung open with a creak, and Sam walked in, hopefully to apologize and recognize he’s going about this all wrong.
The hope died as all hope dies in the prison.
One hand was gripped tight, two sets of shackles dangling from his fist, metal glinting ominously.
Tommy was dead silent as Sam closed the shackles around his wrists, bearing a grimace that made him look decades older than he was.
Ponk had only seen the look on him a few times before, each moment of vulnerability shrinkingly uncommon and almost forgettable. This was different.
It shook him to his core to see the boy so… unlike himself. He hadn’t been broken, no, but he was far too quiet.
He’d cried himself out by the time noon rolled around, only responding to Sam’s appearance and greeting with a stiff scowl.
“Fuck you.” He looked betrayed more than anything. “Go to fucking hell. Die. You’re a piece of shit Warden, you know that, right? I’m gonna fucking—“
“I know, Tommy.” Sam sighed in response to the insult, seeming to twist it around in his mind. “It’s just a security precaution.”
Maybe something about that was familiar, because it triggered a strong reaction. Something about that line Tommy full-bodied flinched at that, his mouth parting, and the betrayal in his eyes sharpened.
Ponk did not enjoy being afraid of sam. It had happened a few times, especially after the Egg… moments where Sam’s (admittedly, sometimes-reasonable) paranoia and fear had overtaken him, and he’d made drastic and regrettable decisions.
Even shackled like prisoners—the prisoners they were—having the doorway of the cell pass their shoulders and then fade behind them was a relief.
Brunch was delicious, admittedly, and far too awkward and silent and tense, a terrible mockery of the dinner at Sam's place, before everything... well, went to shit. Afterward, they were allowed to walk, stretch their legs, explore the prison they already knew—except they were shackled and supervised by Sam, like dogs on leashes.
When time had passed, and the sight of the cell grew closer, the little reprieve came to a painful vault.
Tommy froze in the hallway, a smile dropping off his face. “Sam?”
The creeper hybrid hummed in acknowledgment, slowing his pace in turn.
“You— you’re not actually going to put us back in that cell, right?” Tommy realized it was a silly question as soon as it left his mouth, but… the thought of being back in that tiny room made his heart beat uncomfortably fast, and his stomach twist up it what definitely wasn't fear, because he was big man TommyInnit and he wasn’t scared—
Sam’s face betrayed pity, even as he was the cause of the boy’s distress. “Tommy…”
“It’s just— ” It was small, and cold, and isolated, and the blackstone reminded him so much of— “ really boring.”
Sam gave him an understanding nod. “I know it’s not the greatest, but it’s the best I could do at the moment.”
Tommy grumbled, and Ponk ignored their own reaction of disbelief and anger at the best I could do . It was far from the best anything.
“Maybe we can work on making it a bit more homey tomorrow?” Sam suggested, with a gentle edge that made Tommy perk up.
“It’s the least you can do, Sam,” Ponk sighed before Tommy could respond, “since you’re the one kidnapping us.”
Sam’s eyes crinkled as if he didn’t like his actions to be described as kidnapping, but he nodded in agreement.
Even with the conversation, Tommy’s eyes were still dark with dread, and they drew darker as they came to a stop in front of the cell. Ponk wished to reach out to him but their hands were not yet unbound.
“…Would you like Fran to stay with you?” Sam offered, voice full of the familiar sympathy that never failed to make Tommy feel small, but not-in-a-bad-way .
Tommy nodded, and Sam unclipped the dog’s leash, letting Fran run into the cell and finally unshackling Ponk and Tommy once they were all inside.
Tommy sat down in his bed, and Fran jumped up to join him.
“Goodbye.” Sam lingered in the doorway as if waiting for a reciprocation. Tommy buried his nose in Fran’s fur, and Ponk looked away to the wall.
With a sigh, and a quiet “Love you,” the warden left.
Ponk was rubbing at her wrists when Tommy spoke up.”
“…Ponk?”
They halted. “Yeah, Toms?”
“Do you think... I mean… Do you think Sam is…
Tommy looked desperate, searching Ponk’s expression for information.
Ponk had known Sam deeper and longer, and he was looking for some sort of indication this wasn’t who he really is, wasn’t he? What could Ponk say? What did Ponk even think about it?
“He’s… stressed.” They decided, believing their own statement more and more. “You know how sometimes he’d just… take Fran and hide her away somewhere for a while?”
“That’s what he was doing?” Tommy sat up, holding the big dog a little tighter. “I thought she’d just… ran off.”
“Yeah, no. Got real paranoid someone was gonna hurt her.” Ponk stared at the wall.” I think this is the same thing, kinda. But instead of Fran…”
“It’s us.” Tommy completed, breathing a little shakily.
This whole thing had made Tommy terrified and it was honestly a little freaky to watch.
“He cares! He cares, ” Ponk emphasized, trying to calm their cellmate even a little before he went spirally into a full-blown panic attack. “I think the pressure just. Kinda broke him?”
Sympathy twinged in his stomach, and he thought of dates and cheesy affectionate texts and of Sam, the Sam she knew.
“I'm sure he’ll calm down soon and realize this was all a really embarrassing overreaction. And we’re just gonna wait that out, okay?”
Tommy sighed. The sound settled heavily in the cell.
“Okay.”