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For now, the battle was over. The events of the drawn to a close, the curtain drawn on months of mounting tension, the survivors left broken to pick through the rubble and begin to find a way to rebuild. The crater left behind by Wilbur’s final act, by Technoblade’s Withers and Dream’s crystals couldn’t be underestimated, with dust still clouding the air around the rocky hole. The ground was unstable and a fall would likely kill anyone unlucky enough to stumble - and without any torches the place would become a sea of hostile mobs to finish off anyone that survived. The land held so many memories, so much history, but whether or not it was safe to remain there was a question that would be asked another day.
People dissipated to seek shelter as the sun set. Some returned to Pogtopia, knowing there would be safety in the cold walls of the ravines, while others returned to the community house. One man, however, did neither, and Phil followed that man. He walked quietly, hands in his pockets and fingers fidgeting as he slowly became accustomed to traversing the land without his wings, and he tried not to disturb Tommy as he walked down the long wooden path.
Eventually, the path ended, but Tommy continued to walk. Phil followed, still silent, still ensuring that the young man thought he was alone. Now, he could feel the grass brushing against his toes, the cool night air nipping at his skin and the gentle breeze blowing at the flimsy rim of his hat - it almost felt peaceful as stars began to twinkle in the sky above. In the darkness the explosions of the war seemed a lifetime away, even though the ringing in Phil’s ears had only just faded into nothingness. His heart had finally stopped pounding after the attack from the Withers, and his wounds had finally stopped bleeding.
Phil had only been there for the culmination of the battle - he was one of the lucky ones.
Tommy was a child, his child, and he had been thrust into the middle of this hell from the very beginning.
As he walked a little way behind his son, he allowed himself to feel guilt. Holding it in, bottling it up, would do him no good - experiencing it and letting it out now at least meant that when he could reveal his presence to Tommy he could focus on making things right. For now he let his stomach churn, he let his fingers curl into fists and his nails dig into his palms, he let his teeth worry his lips… He let himself think about the years he’d spent raising his sons - he tried to pinpoint where he’d gone wrong with Technoblade and Wilbur, what he’d missed that resulted in them committing such heinous acts of violence.
Tommy eventually came to a stop. There was a lake, a beautiful, untouched lake. The water rippled gently as the waves lapped against the gentle sloped shore, the moonlight reflected and brightened the world just enough to stop mobs from spawning nearby, and mountains stood tall in the distance.
This was the life Phil wanted for his sons: something peaceful, something beautiful, not something that tore them all apart. Whatever had happened in this world would haunt the family for the rest of their lives - and no matter where they went, what server they were in, Phil didn’t believe that Tommy would ever truly be able to trust his brothers again. That bond between them - the bond that had been so close and so special when they’d joined this server - it was gone now.
The young man sat on the ground beside the lake. He removed his shoes and his socks, dipping his toes into the water. Phil watched as he shivered, and he decided that there would be no better time than now to make his presence known.
“Hey kid.”
Tommy didn’t flinch like Phil had expected him to. In fact, he didn’t move at all. He stared out at the water, his eyes focused on the horizon, an action that only served to concern Phil further than he already had been. That alone was impressive - he hadn’t thought himself capable of feeling more concern when he already had to worry about the effects of war on his son. He supposed this was just one of them.
Phil slipped his sandals off, sitting himself beside Tommy and letting his own feet submerge themselves beside Tommy’s.
“It’s cold.” He said, turning his head to look at the boy beside him. “How aren’t you cold?”
“I am cold, Phil.”
That… That hurt. He thought watching Wilbur destroy everything he’d created hurt. He thought being forced to murder his own son hurt. He thought watching Technoblade destroy what was left of L’Manburg hurt. But Tommy calling him Phil?
That devastated him.
“I’m sorry, Toms.” He said quietly, taking in a deep breath as he spoke. “I should’ve been here to protect you.”
“I can protect myself.” Tommy shrugged. “I’ve done it plenty of times.”
“I don’t doubt that you can protect yourself, but that’s not the point. You’re a kid, you shouldn’t have to. That’s my job. You should be out exploring the world, going on adventures with your brothers not… Not being drafted into fucking wars, not being betrayed, traumatised, and hurt by them.”
“It’s done now. It’s fine.”
The guilt was still there, Phil couldn’t shake it when Tommy was talking like this. He was so monotone, so tired, he wasn’t the excited, happy kid that Phil had sent off with his brothers. He was broken, and it was clear that Tommy had tried to put himself back together. He’d tried so hard to hold himself together, to build walls out of nothing to get through everything he’d been experiencing, and it broke Phil’s heart.
But Phil was his father, and Phil knew that if there was one thing he could do, it was help him to fix things. Tommy didn’t have to pick up the broken pieces alone, he didn’t have to put them back together with the cracks still showing and the glue barely holding: they could do this together, take time to ensure that all the pieces were whole and structurally sound before pulling them back together again. They could work together slowly, and give the glue time to try to ensure that he wasn’t putting things back together only for them to be broken again.
He wrapped an arm around Tommy, his right hand coming to rest on his son’s right shoulder. As his thumb rubbed over his dirtied, bloodied shirt, Phil noticed just how stiff his body was.
“You know you’re safe here, right?” Phil whispered. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“I saw you kill Wilbur.” He replied, his voice deadpan and his eyes still focused on the lake before him. “Wil said he’d never hurt me. Techno said he was on my side. Why should I believe you when they lied? When you’ve already killed Wilbur in front of me?”
Ah. He had killed Wilbur - something he didn’t want to even begin to unpack now. He would save his own mourning and trauma for after he managed to get through to Tommy.
“That wasn’t a choice I made.” He said quietly. “Wilbur had already destroyed everything, he begged me to kill him Tommy. The man that pressed the button… That wasn’t my son, he wasn’t your brother. Our Wil was long gone.”
“He wasn’t gone! I could’ve brought him back, I could’ve spoken to him. I-- I just--”
“That’s not your responsibility, Toms. You aren’t supposed to be a fucking therapist for your brothers.” Phil didn’t hold back anymore. Instead of trying to wait for Tommy to warm up to him, he brought his free arm and pulled the young man close. He twisted Tommy’s body around so that his face was pressed against his chest, one hand resting on his back and the other combing through the soft blond curls atop his head. He didn’t care that Tommy’s body was rigid, that after everything that had happened he was still trying to keep himself together - all he cared about was being there.
“Tommy if I knew any of this was going to happen, I’d never have let you go.” He said firmly, the words whispered against Tommy’s forehead. “You’re a brilliant kid - you’re determined, you’re brave, your stand up for what you believe in. You don’t back down or give up, you don’t let people get away with hurting your friends, you don’t stand for any kind of injustice, but fuck Tommy, you’re a kid. You aren’t supposed to be fighting wars or leading armies, you shouldn’t be trying to pull a country together from the rubble, you shouldn’t be having to put your own life on the line to try and drag your brothers back from the edge of insanity.”
“But that’s--”
“Nothing you can say will make what happened okay, Tommy.” Phil told him. “Please, Tommy, don’t try and make it okay. It wasn’t right, you can’t convince me that it was and I think you’re struggling to convince yourself. But it’s over now, it’s safe, I’m here. You don’t have to lie to yourself, and you don’t have to hide from me. I’m here.”
Phil didn’t say another word, he’d said his piece and now it was just a waiting game. He didn’t know how long it would take - minutes, hours, weeks - but he needed to wait for Tommy to trust him in what he said, to open up to him, and to let it all out.
He breathed a sigh of relief when it turned out to be the former.
He couldn’t pinpoint when Tommy began to cry - with his head hidden away in his chest it was impossible to tell when the tears had begun to fall - but it wasn’t long before his breathing was louder than before. After a few more minutes, his body became more relaxed and he slumped further forward, shoulders beginning to shake as loud breathing turned into quiet sobs.
Phil just hugged him tighter.
As Tommy cried, Phil remained almost silent. Save for a few comforting words, muttered reminders that he was safe, that he was loved, and he wasn’t alone, Phil said nothing. He would wait for Tommy to open up, and he would wait with him beside the lake for the rest of his life if he had to.
“I’m sorry, dad.” He eventually managed to choke out, his hands finally moving to snake around his father and return the embrace. Phil could feel how tightly the fabric of his shirt was scrunched up between Tommy’s fingers and as much as it pained him to know how awfully his son must have been suffering, he felt nothing other than relief that he felt comfortable enough to have this kind of closeness with someone.
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for Toms, I just want you to be a kid again. When you’re ready, I want you to tell me everything that happened, I want to know how I can help you, I want to fix this. As long as it takes, whatever you need, I’m your dad. I’m here for you.”
The wind had picked up a little and Phil felt Tommy move closer to him for warmth, something that Phil was more than happy to provide. Sitting with him like this, now, he could almost remember how it had all started. He could almost remember holding Tommy years ago, when he was small enough to sleep on his chest without having to even curl up. He remembered flying through the skies with his son in his arms, travelling the world, telling him stories of the wonderful adventures he’d get to go on when he grew up…
It broke Phil’s heart that this was where they were now. Tommy had growth spurt after growth spurt, shooting up until he was taller than his father and then continuing to grow some more. He’d turned into a young man that Phil could be proud of. And Phil was still proud of Tommy, he would always be proud of Tommy, but seeing him curling up in his arms, trying to be small enough to rest against his chest for comfort, for warmth, and for safety again broke him. He would always be there to provide those things for his son, he just wished they weren’t needed quite so desperately.
“Please don’t kill Techno--”
Oh, if Phil had thought Tommy refusing to call him dad had broken his heart, if he thought that the man trying to make himself smaller was painful, the plea not to kill his older brother finished the job.
And what the fuck was he supposed to reply to that with?
He was utterly unable to make that promise to Tommy. He didn’t know if Techno could be reasoned with, if this would all boil into another war or if things would gently simmer down. He didn’t know if Techno would regret his actions and beg to be put out of his misery like Wilbur had. He didn’t know if Techno would put Tommy in danger again.
“I can’t promise anything, Tommy.” Phil eventually said, his voice strained and quiet. “I don’t want to hurt him, I love him like I love you - like I loved Wil - but I can’t promise what will happen. I can’t predict the future.”
There was another pause, the moment only punctuated by sniffles from the boy in his arms, and then another request came.
“Please don’t kill me.”
“Fuck…” He breathed, unable to keep his emotions suppressed. “Tommy, shit, I’m not going to kill you. I won’t let anyone lay a finger on you. You’re safe, I swear. Whatever happens, I’m on your side.”
Tommy tightened his hold on his father and Phil pressed a kiss into his hair, starting to rock slowly back and forth. It almost felt like Tommy was an infant again - and he wished that was true. He wished that this was all a horrible dream, that Tommy was still a child in his arms, that Techno and Wilbur were mischievous young boys, that they were all alive, together, and happy.
He wished none of this had ever happened.
“Can you carry me home, dad?”
Phil smiled a little, nodding his head softly.
“Course I can, kid.”