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English
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Published:
2020-11-23
Words:
1,581
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
10
Kudos:
63
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4
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442

Work Text:

When Tommy wakes up, he isn't in his bed.

 

He's sitting in what appears to be a subway car and some lilting tune is playing.

 

Schlatt is standing across from him, gently humming along and holding a sleeping Quackity. The train rounds a corner and Tommy watches as Schlatt tightens his grip on Quackity's shoulder to stop the smaller boy from falling over.

 

"Fly me to the moon," Schlatt croons to the sleeping boy. Even though Tommy does not know the exact song that is playing, he knows that it isn't Fly Me to the Moon.

 

"Schlatt?" Tommy says, and Schlatt turns, still holding onto Quackity.

 

"Hey Tommy," Schlatt says, uncharacteristically quiet. "Keep it down, yeah? We don't wanna wake these two up before they're ready." Schlatt fiddles with Quackity's beanie.

 

Two?

 

Tommy spots something moving out of the corner of his eye. It's Wilbur and the bottom of his shield rests on top of his shoes.

 

Schlatt keeps on singing, and Tommy thinks Schlatt changes a few words but it doesn't matter. It never mattered, did it? Does it?

 

A spike of pain goes through his head, and fuck, what was he trying to think about?

 

"Tommy, it's not polite to pry into people's lives." Schlatt's voice crackles with polished rage, kept in check by a silver tongue.

 

"Wh-where are we?" Tommy chooses to say.

 

"We're on our way back." The subway car flickers and for a moment, it looks like they're in the end void.

 

Schlatt grimaces and the subway car comes back. The ride seems a bit bumpier than before.

 

"Tommy, would you mind not thinking about other places? It's tough enough to hold it for all of us without you muddling it up."

 

Tommy nods. He focuses in on the subway and the ride smoothes out.

 

"You still haven't explained to me what's going on yet, Schlatt."

 

"You, Quackity, Will, you all went to MCC, right? The trip there is easy, you just get beamed there. But the way back is harder. Everyone got to go to different places. You fall asleep at the event, then you wake up in your bed after dreaming. This is just the in-between."

 

"Why are you here?"

 

"I got pulled in. I must be on all of your subconscious minds and that was enough to pull me in." Schlatt shrugs. "It's happened before."

 

"It has?"

 

"Yeah. You all are usually asleep during this trip."

 

"And if we're not?"

 

"You don't remember," Schlatt says, his face suddenly softening until Tommy can see the lamb behind the ram, the innocence behind the crime, the sin behind the sinner, the meekness behind the madness, the purpose behind the manifest. "And nothing ever changes."

 

And the music swells, and the car speeds up; and there is simply a rushing, a roaring, like like like-

 

Like rising water.

 

Like an exploding sky.

 

Like rising lava.

 

Like a world expanding.

 

And Wilbur's fingertips  glow

 

And he wakes up with a start.

 

The room shifts and warps and now they're in some cave that Tommy doesn't recognize.

 

But Schlatt does. His face pales and Tommy thinks he spots some of Schlatt's mutton chops turn white as well.

 

"Schlatt, what the fuck did you do?" And Tommy is surprised at the venom in Wilbur's voice and the fire in his eyes.

 

"Me? I didn't fucking do anything!"

 

And, huh, they always were like this, the spark and the flame, the match and the gasoline, the trigger and the bullet. 

 

"Tommy, I thought I told you to get out of my head," Schlatt says.

 

"Sorry," Tommy whispers and it's like a cannon blast in the loudness of the room.

 

Quackity wakes up, a confused look on his face.

 

"Schlatt, what's happening?" Quackity asks.

 

"Schlatt, what the fuck did you do?" Wilbur asks again.

 

"What, Wilbur, is this not the way you wanted to spend your night? My apologies!" Schlatt says, stepping forwards.

 

Wilbur mirrors him.

 

Tommy and Quackity both shoot to their feet.

 

"Schlatt, undo this or so help me Prime-"

 

"Oh, what are you gonna do? Huh? You were always too chickenshit to do any-"

 

The slap rings out like a shot.

 

And for a moment it's all flipped, it's Wilbur on the ground, cowering from Schlatt.

 

And it snaps back because Schlatt grabs Wilbur by his collar and pins him to the wall, the taller man's feet somehow dangling above the ground.

 

"What in the fuck do you think you're doing?" Schlatt snarls.

 

"I'm fucking tired of your attitude Schlatt, maybe I just wanted to get back at you." And a hysterical laugh escapes Wilbur. "Maybe I'm tired of being the hero, Schlatt."

 

"You're always the hero!" Schlatt says and Quackity spots Schlatt's fingers trembling.

 

"Well, now I'm not. It's my turn, I get to be the villain."

 

"No way."

 

Quackity and Tommy remain glued to the floor, unable to do anything except watch.

 

"What, you object? I've been the villain before!"

 

"Not when it's us!" Schlatt takes a shaky breathe in. "You can go off and do other shit and be the villain and that's fine! That's fucking fine! But when it's me and you, you know what role you play! It's always been you and me, hero and villain. And if you're the villain now, if that's your fucking choice, then what the fuck am I, huh?" Schlatt's crying now, Tommy notices. "If we could always fucking choose our roles, what the fuck does that mean, huh?"

 

And Wilbur looks so so repentant.

 

The two look at each other, really look at each other. They looked at each other like Eve to Adam, sinner to saint, two reflections in a hall of mirrors, a hall empty and devoid of a living human.

 

And Tommy feels as though he is intruding on some sacred ceremony, some forgotten ritual, some reading of an old treaty that rings in his head and gets trapped in the cobwebs of his brain.

 

He looks over at Quackity who seems to be feeling the same way, looking down at his boots.

 

"Schlatt," Wilbur whispers and it's like the whole world is breaking. 

 

And Tommy, again, feels like he's seeing something sacred and secret. The curtain has finally been lifted, the shadow moved out of Wilbur's eye. And Tommy slightly wishes that he could put it back.

 

"Schlatt, I- I didn't know," Wilbur says. "If I knew I wouldn't have-"

 

Schlatt releases him. "Whatever Wilbur. What's done is done."

 

"Still, I wouldn't have tried to kill you."

 

"Nah, I'm over that. Was really pissed at the time."

 

"Why?" Wilbur asks, face cherub-like, innocence etched in every line. But they all see the twitch in his eye, the strange glint on his sword, the malice hidden in his smile.

 

Whatever it is, it isn't gone. Not yet.

 

Schlatt pulls a slip of paper from his breast pocket. "This is why I was so fucking pissed about your shitty assassination attempt." Schlatt lets the paper clutter to the floor by his feet.

 

Even though the paper is partially burned, ripped, and tattered, Tommy can read the text.

 

Sperm whales can't cum.

 

What the fuck does that mean?

 

Wilbur looks at the paper and slowly, solemnly, reaches for the roll on his back.

 

Schlatt steps forward. "What, Wilbur, you're gonna seal your role as the villain by killing me? I'll just fucking respawn! And then what?" A bitter, insane laugh escapes Schlatt. "Then we do the dance we always do huh? We both know the melody by heart don't we?"

 

Wilbur pulls something out of his roll. It's a wooden stick, slightly charred on the edges.

 

It clatters to the floor loudly and Schlatts face pales.

 

"You still-" Schlatt pauses. "How did you-" He cuts himself off.

 

"Josh," Wilbur whispers.

 

Schlatt nods. "That would explain it."

 

Tommy looks closer at the stick. It's a rung of a ladder, charred and it bears the initials LM.

 

"We all have our ways of remembering, Schlatt."

 

"And yet you always forget, William."

 

"I'll remember this time, I promise." And the plea in his voice is real, asking for forgiveness.

 

Schlatt smiles sadly. "No, you won't."

 

The world goes dark.

 

And Tommy wakes up in his bed. He thinks he had some weird dream. Of what he can't remember.

 

When he spots Schlatt talking to Quackity, Schlatt seems a bit downtrodden.

 

Tommy counts this as a win.

 

Later, much, much later, Schlatt and Wilbur sit in the community house.

 

"How long does it take to go away?" Wilbur asks.

 

Schlatt shrugs. "It lasted a while for me." He lights up a cigar. "You'll kick it eventually."

 

"Is that a ghost pun? Like kick the bucket?"

 

"Maybe." Schlatt's grin reaches the bottom of his horns. "I knew a guy who liked puns. You knew him."

 

"Can't remember him."

 

Schlatt sighs. "Maybe it's better that way."

 

Wilbur nods.

 

"Changing the subject, it probably won't go away until you corrupt someone else." Schlatt looks over at him. "I would suggest hiding out somewhere till it simmers down."

 

"Nah, L'Manberg needs me."

 

Schlatt gives Wilbur an odd look. "Whatever, just- just tell me when you remember stuff." Schlatt stand. "I gotta go, see you later."

 

"Bye, Schlatt," Wilbur says cheerfully, and Schlatt looks sorrowful as he fades out.

 

"Wonder what that was all about," Wilbur says.

 

He hears laughter coming over the hill.

 

"Hey, Tubbo!" Will calls and the kid bounds over to him.

 

Maybe he'll get rid of it sooner than he thought.

Notes:

i've been sitting on this one for a while