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If Tommy had to guess what the afterlife would be like he would have said lots of white, or maybe a cabin by the ocean where no one could disturb him. Sometimes he pictured a dark void, boarding between peaceful and unsettling in its quiet and emptiness. Women were usually in his fantasies. He imagined there would be lots of women in the afterlife.
He never gave it much thought, though, because he was too much of a big man to die any time soon.
~
Consciousness came all at once, and Tommy found he didn’t know where he was. He couldn’t seem to remember anything, for that matter. Anything that would give him a clue to what was going on.
The first sense that came back was touch. His fingers curled into soft grass beneath him, and a warm breeze caressed his face before darting away over the ground. He took a deep breath and realized he could now smell the sweet grass too. Then he could hear the sound of running water somewhere nearby and the wind shaking the grass and trees.
Finally he tried to open his eyes, only to grunt and close them again when he was immediately blinded by the light of the world around him. He brought his hand up to rub at his eyes before trying to open them again, this time slower and prepared for the light.
Tommy pushed himself up, taking in his surroundings. He was indeed sitting in a grassy field, with wildflowers dotting the small slope down to the river that cut through the land. On the other side of the river was a tall mountain- not one that he was looking forward to climbing any time soon.
(Something told Tommy that there should be a path coming down from a hole cut though the mountain, but he shook his head and pushed it away. One confusing thing at a time.)
He looked up and could see the blue, cloudless sky. It only took him a second to realize he couldn’t find the sun. He frowned slightly.
How can it be so bright if there’s no sun?
One thing at a time, he repeated to himself.
He stood on shaky legs and turned to look behind him, and his breath caught in his throat. Tall, majestic black walls stretched up into the sky, and the tips of a few tall trees peeked over the top. Walls and trees he knew all too well.
And then, like a switch was flipped, he remembered. He remembered everything, from making L’manburg with Wilbur to the election and exile, to his own exile, to all the shit that went down with Dream and Techno- all the way up until his own death.
“Oh my god…” he breathed, covering his mouth with shaky hands and almost collapsing back into the grass. His breaths came out in short, panicked puffs as his mind rushed to keep up with what was happening.
He was fucking dead. Dream beat him to death in the prison and he was dead and now what was happening where was he-
He took a breath and started to hurry to the entrance to old L’manburg as best as he could in his current, frenzied state.
Out of all the things he expected to happen in the afterlife, being here was definitely not one of them.
He finally made it to the open gates, and he slowed as nostalgic tears came to the corners of his eyes when he saw L’manburg. It looked identical to when it was first built- the lake, the trees, the caravan (how long had it been since he’d seen it? How long since it had been whole?
He remembers a story Techno told him once about the ship of Theseus. If pieces of the original are replaced over time, is it still the ship of Theseus?
When had the caravan stopped being the caravan? He doesn’t remember how many times it was broken and rebuilt, only to be exploded again.
What about L’manburg? How long since the land was really L’manburg? It had also been blown up and built over several times.
To Tommy, at least, the only time it had ever felt like home was in the beginning. When it was just him and Wilbur and Tubbo against the world, and he didn’t have to worry about wars or politics or growing up too fast.)
As he stared at the caravan he realized there were two figures sitting on the roof, but they were too far away to make out any details. They were leaning against each other, one of them chuckling softly, seeming to enjoy each other's presence. Tommy stood in silence, trying to process why there were other people here. Then one of them caught sight of him and the conversation abruptly stopped.
The person nudged the other figure and pointed to Tommy, and they turned and froze when they caught sight of him. Then they jumped off the roof and started to rush over to Tommy, who took a few panicked steps back as the (now he could tell it was a) man got closer.
“Woah bitch, who the fuck are yo-”
His words cut off as the person got even closer and he could make out the shape of a familiar beanie and coat. Then his face came into view and there was his brother, his dead brother (but isn’t Tommy dead now too), running towards him with tears in his eyes.
“Wilby?”
And the next thing he knew he was engulfed in a tight hug that he remembered from what seemed like a lifetime ago.
“Tommy, oh my god, Tommy,” came the choked response, and he knew that this wasn’t Wilbur of Pogtopia, this wasn’t General Soot of the revolution. This was Wilbur his brother- Wilbur who taught him how to climb trees, who stayed up late when he was sick, who hugged him and loved him and told him that he was the most important person in the whole world.
Tommy hugged him back just as hard and sobbed into his brother’s chest as they both slowly sunk to the ground.
Wilbur put his hand on Tommy’s face and he leaned into it as his tears were brushed away. “You’re not supposed to be here Tommy. You weren’t supposed to be here for a long time.”
Tommy tried to smile through his tears. “Well sometimes things don't go to plan, do they?”
Wilbur just pulled him back into the hug, and Tommy gratefully let him.
They sat like that for minutes or hours (it’s not like Tommy was paying attention) until Tommy took a deep breath and turned his attention back to his current situation.
“How are we even… here right now? Why here?”
Wilbur smiled sadly at him. “This is the afterlife, right? L’manburg died too.”
And oh, if Tommy doesn’t remember L’manburg. He remembers late nights huddled around a campfire with laughter and guitar notes drifting into the air. He remembers laying on the grass and gazing at stars with Tubbo and Eret, coming up with funny names for the constellations they could see.
He remembers building the walls with Wilbur. The walls that made him feel safe and free back when the only enemy they had to worry about was Dream. The walls he would scale and run along with Tubbo, feeling the wind whip through his hair and sun beat down on his face. The walls that held memories and stories and love.
The walls that were torn down and blown up without a second thought. That were gone in all ways except memory.
He remembers and it hurts, and he can’t decide if he wishes he could forget it all or not.
He was pulled out of his thoughts when he realized that Wilbur was still talking.
“I should have known that the five of us could never stand against Dream. All we had was half a dream against his entire arsenal.”
“Wilbur, I don’t think you’re being fair,” Tommy tried to softly argue, but he was cut off by more rambling.
“I wasn’t fair to you either. I knew we were fucked and I still made you fight, and I watched as Dream beat us down and killed us, and then I did it all again with Schlatt and god, Tommy, I’m so fucking sorry.”
Wilbur had tears running down his face by the end of his rant, and Tommy couldn’t help but feel out of his element.
“Wilbur, you did the best you could. You’re being too hard on yourself- it’s not like you weren’t under stress or struggling like the rest of us.”
Wilbur grimaced. “Still. I was the adult. I was responsible for you and Tubbo and everyone else. I should have been stronger.”
“You’re only one person. You can’t take all of the blame.” Tommy leaned against Wilbur’s chest and relaxed into the hand softly carding through his hair.
Wilbur just pulled him closer and rested his head on Tommy’s shoulder.
“Okay”
It was almost a whisper but it was enough for Tommy to be satisfied and bury himself back in Wilbur’s chest.
He felt Wilbur’s arms come under his legs and he was lifted into the air, still cuddled against him. He grumbled in protest for a second, but settled down. He would never admit it, but he missed the feeling of being taken care of and held again. It was a sharp contrast to the time he had spent alone or fighting in wars or being hurt.
He opened his eyes when he felt them come to a stop, and he saw they were at the door to the caravan. Wilbur pushed his way through the door and made his way to the back where the beds were.
Tommy did a double take when he saw Schlatt leaning against one of the counters. The man who had exiled him from his own nation and had Tubbo executed. Wilbur must have been able to feel him tense up, because he shushed him and ran his fingers through his hair.
“It’s okay, it’s okay. Schlatt isn’t a bad guy anymore, he won’t hurt you, I promise.”
He muttered reassurance in Tommy’s ear until he calmed down enough to look up and meet Schlatt’s eyes.
He held out the glass he was holding (they had alcohol in the afterlife?) towards Tommy, tipping his head. Despite the fact that he was clearly drinking, he didn’t seem drunk or out of it like he had the few times Tommy saw him leading up to his death.
“Hey kid. Welcome to the dead club.”
Wilbur looked sharply towards him, but Tommy couldn’t help the startled snort that came out of his mouth. This reminded him of Schlatt the first day he had come to the SMP, before he ran for president and became a ruthless dictator. He remembers laughing with Tubbo and Fundy, and making stupid jokes as they ran around L’manberg and the surrounding lands.
That was a good day.
Wilbur continued moving to the back of the caravan and opened the door to where the beds still were, laying him down on one and pulling up the covers.
Tommy snuggled down into the warmth as Wilbur held his hand.
“You can sleep now, Toms. You’re safe. I’ll protect you.”
As he layed in the bed, being comforted by Wilbur, he realized just how exhausted he felt. He guessed that dying and coming to the afterlife and meeting your dead brother took a lot out of a person.
“Will you stay?” Tommy hated how small and vulnerable his voice sounded, but he found that he didn’t care when Wilbur cuddled him closer and rubbed his arms.
“Of course Tommy. I’ll stay with you as long as you want. I love you, and I’m so proud of you bud.”
Tommy managed to get out a final slurred “Love you too” before his eyes closed and he felt himself being carried off to sleep, safe in his brother’s arms.