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Tommy’s laughter screeched through his speakers, and Sam raised a brow at his tablet resting in his lap. He ignored the laughter; Sam Nook was programmed to have selected dialogue he typed ahead of time and would answer accordingly to whatever Tommy was going on about. Sam Nook was just following their code, and all Sam had to do was glance at his monitor every so often to ensure it was still up and running. Figuring that it was just poor signal, faulty wiring he needed to fix later, he rubbed at his face with a gloved hand, waiting patiently for the message on his tablet to send through.
“Uhh, Sam?” Tommy started in between laughter, voice robot-y as it processed through Sam Nook’s audio receivers and into the prison’s office, and Sam knew from experience with the brat in the short time he’s known him that he was gearing up to poke fun at something. He figured it must be about Punz and Antfrost, threatening for some reason to attack him, and how Sam Nook had scared them away. Lazily he glanced up to the monitor to find Tommy wide-eyed and uncertain, a smile splitting his face. He dragged his eyes back down to his tablet and narrowed his eyes as he saw his message still didn’t go through, and turned back to Tommy. “Sam I think you just messaged--Sam were you trying to text an e-girl or something?”
Sam kicked his feet off the table and threw his tablet to the side. He blanched, fingers dancing along the buttons of his console as he bore into Sam Nook’s code and saw--shit. Tommy went rambling on, and Sam ignored him as he desperately began to type another message, dropping the Sam Nook act for a minute to properly apologize.
He sighed, a little embarrassed, and picked up his tablet with a grumble to relay the message he meant to send to someone else. The person was asking about something or other that Sam had checked the mechanics of and was simply checking in. And Sam really, really enjoyed talking to him. Glancing back up to his monitor, Tommy continued to chatter but seemed to accept the apology, laughing it off. Sam tossed his tablet aside to rub his palms into his eyes with a groan.
He didn’t think he would live on the Dream SMP busying himself with the likes of a child, especially one who had been against him and his friends since day one.
But things have changed. He didn’t ask for this; didn’t ask for Tommy, didn’t ask for Tubbo, didn’t ask for Ranboo. But it wasn’t as if he could just blame them for not having reliable figures to look up to. Where were their parents? Where was the reliable adult figure in their lives, and how had all three of those children been through hell, with zero repercussions on anyone else’s part? Who let that happen, and who thought that was okay?
Sam didn’t ask to become that figure. But he sure as hell couldn’t pass up being one when everyone else refused to step up to the plate.
He was so far out of his element here. He was excellent at redstone and semi-decent at building. That’s who he was. He never had a child of his own, let alone a kid like Tommy. Sam Nook was his creation to make Tommy laugh, to give Tommy a glimpse of the childhood he’d been conned out of. Sam Nook was fake; they were a robot; and of course they were. Tommy knew that they were. But he played into the game because for a minute Tommy could play pretend, for a minute Tommy could feel as if he weren’t trapped, that he could talk to someone without burden, and for a minute Tommy could forget that he had been manipulated and abused. Sam couldn’t care less being the butt of the kid’s jokes. If he could learn to figure out how to make Tommy feel better, to help him work through the thoughts and fears he might have, then it was worth it.
For Tommy’s sake, someone had to.
Tommy took his leave and grumbled to himself about the resources Sam Nook was requesting, and Sam chuckled at the screen, turning down the volume on his speakers just a little. The hotel was something for Tommy to do. He imagined that Tommy wouldn’t admit it, but the distraction of the hotel was nice for him. It was something for him to do, something for a distraction. Sam was glad to assist.
His own plans for his bank had stalled just a little, but it didn’t really matter. The hotel was just another project, one that he would be able to finish so long as Tommy got all of the correct resources for him. And admittedly, it was a pretty good idea to have something for visitors to stay in, a home away from home. Sam eventually turned to glance at another monitor that showed the security feed of the high security cell.
It was hard to believe that the same man whose hand he had shaken years ago--being one of the first few to go along with him and join the SMP--was behind bars and under his care. Sam couldn’t even begin to figure out how Dream had fallen so far. Sam would have never gone along with him if he knew Dream was capable of such awful things.
When they were building the prison he would catch glimpses of what Dream had done, and he would bury them to be addressed later. Sam didn’t think Dream would have told him if it weren’t for the fact that somehow deep down he felt a little bit guilty. He figured Dream would try and keep things to himself, like he had always done, if he thought he was in the right. Dream talking to him in the middle of the night where no one else could hear, after hours of toiling away working and building and planning, about how he had hurt Tommy, tried to convince him to trust him through lies… Sam saw these confessions as a cry for help.
But how far could they go to fix everything when Dream didn’t want to change?
He was a stubborn fool. He wanted the server to be together as one. He’d gone to terrible lengths to do it, and now he was in prison. So, what now? Would Dream stop? Would Dream get better?
How far gone was he really?
It was uncomfortable watching Dream. Sam had to, it was in his literal job description, but it didn’t change the fact that this was one of Sam’s very close friends, and he’d watched Dream slip into what looked like insanity. Sam wasn’t an expert, Sam wasn’t any type of psychologist, but he didn’t think it took one to see that Dream wasn’t right. Dream spent most of his time sitting and writing. Sam would have never pinned Dream to be any type of writer, known more for his vast knowledge and advanced practice in combat as well as his leadership ability. He would have expected him to spend more time working out to keep up muscle, but Sam figured there was likely a lot he didn’t know about him. Dream was naturally very charismatic, and he used that to his advantage. He used it on Sam, he used it on the others, and he used it on Tommy when it suited him.
The writing was a surprise, and so were the pranks.
Sam thought that the first time was a mistake. Dream had taken a liking to his clock for some reason after a week or so living in the prison, and Sam thought it had been a mistake when Dream called out to him telling it had burned in the lava. Sam was glad to give him another clock; it wasn’t like his goal was to torture Dream, the prison was meant in the long run as rehabilitation.
And then it happened again. And again. And again. It came to be a normal thing, and Sam grew tired of it. It was an excuse for Dream to talk to him he guessed, to feel like he was getting an upper hand on him, or to laugh about and make fun out of, but Sam put a stop to it. He changed the system to be automated. He no longer had a direct reason to go to Dream’s cell, unless Dream somehow got hurt or sick or something of equal worry. So Dream would toss his clock into lava, and then get a new one within the week.
Sam didn’t know how to help either of them: Tommy or Dream. But he would try his best.
--
Days came and went with more of the same.
Sam Nook would ask Tommy for materials, Tommy would grumble and go get them, occasionally bring back trouble Sam Nook would have to deal with, and the cycle would repeat. It kept the kid busy, it kept the kid running, and Sam thought that while he needed to find a way to give him more, this was enough.
It didn’t last forever.
It was a day like any other, Sam lounging in the prison, keeping an eye on both Dream and Sam Nook, when Tommy walked up to him looking more sluggish than usual. He looked exhausted, as if he hadn’t slept the night before. He dragged himself up the stairs, and murmured a hello to Sam Nook.
Sam pushed the Chinese takeout Ponk had dropped off earlier aside, and sat up straighter in his chair. He watched as Sam Nook’s automated dialogue began to play. Tommy was listening, but he was also distracted, as if he wasn’t all there. His blue eyes lost their light, he stood more slouched, and his energy was gone.
It was hard to keep up the act every single day.
Impulsively, Sam decided to cut the dialogue short in the middle of Sam Nook’s sentence, connecting his own microphone deep within the prison to Sam Nook’s speakers. He cleared his throat, and Tommy picked his head up in surprise, as if he’d been caught stealing something.
“Sorry, Sam! I swear I’m paying attention nothing happened, me and old Tom Nook here were just having a chat”
Sam gritted his teeth, fighting the bite in his tone down. His anger wasn’t directed toward Tommy, it was directed toward the fact that every time someone was upset or something Tommy assumed he was the one being blamed, that he was the one at fault. The poor kid probably didn’t even realize he was doing it, and Sam hated that for him. “You’re fine.” Sam said with more meaning than intended, and Tommy blinked at him, snapping his mouth shut.
“Why are you, what did I,” Tommy coughed harshly, forcing himself to kick his voice into high gear: into the normal, confident cadence people were used to. “Why’re you here, Sam?”
“No reason,” Sam told him, and Tommy looked more confused, faltering. “It doesn’t look like you’re up to working,” Sam continued, and Tommy looked like he was about to object, face steadily paling, until Sam went, “So do you want to talk?”
Tommy didn’t laugh, thrown off his rhythm. “What?”
“We can talk.” Sam repeated, and glanced over at the audio input to ensure it was still working. Technology was still a bit finicky, everything he had he made himself. It wouldn’t surprise him if Tommy couldn’t hear him due to something messed up on his part, but according to the monitor the audio was working fine, and Tommy should have been able to hear him.
“...What would we talk about?”
“Whatever you want to. We can talk about you, talk about me, just talk.” Sam said, and Tommy paused, a dark look passing over his face. He grabbed his arm protectively, and teetered on his feet as if he were trying to decide whether or not to step away from him.
“Why are you asking me to talk?” He asked quietly, and Sam frowned. Gods, he had no idea what he was doing.
“I just wanna hear how your day was. Or, uh, your week. Something good that happened, or not. Whatever you want someone to hear.” Sam stumbled, praying that he hadn’t stepped over a boundary he wasn’t supposed to, praying that he hadn’t ruined the fragile trust they started to develop. “If you want.”
Tommy hesitated before he took a deep breath and sighed with his whole chest, dropping his eyes. “My day wasn’t great.” He groused, and Sam nodded, tapping furiously on his console to make Sam Nook gesture over to the beacon and to sit. Tommy followed and sat beside them. He drew his knees to his chest, and rested his head atop of them.
They sat in silence for a minute, and Sam turned his head to face him. It looked as if he were stewing in something, fighting with himself about whether or not he should spill. It was all a matter of did he trust Sam, or was he not there with him yet? And Sam couldn’t blame if he didn’t.
Tommy finally sighed and laughed without feeling. “Is it crazy that I still miss him?” Tommy asked, and Sam waited patiently for him to continue, sitting still as a statue. “I mean, we’d been through hell together, Sam. And he’s been gone for months now and things have gotten better. Things are fine but I still--I still miss him. And--and you know it fucking sucks that we built something: him, Tubbo, and I, and it’s gone now. It’s gone now, and why is it gone?” Tommy turned to Sam expecting an answer, and Sam swallowed.
“It’s not bad that you miss him. He was your brother, and you cared for him at his worst. And it’s not bad that you miss L’Manburg, that’s because you have learned what it feels like to fight for something you love and had hope for it. L’Manburg still exists inside of you, inside of Tubbo, and inside everyone else who started it. It’s gone because bad things happen to good people. And Tommy you--you’re good. You’re a good person, Tommy.”
“Am I, Sam?” Tommy whispered harshly, chuckling as if he couldn’t believe that Sam thought he could ever be good. “Am I really?”
“Yes.”
“So why does everyone blame me?” Tommy asked. “Why do people look at me and--and feel the need to insult me and say that I’m the one who ruined everything?”
“They see you fight with your words, and think it’s okay to do the same, I guess.” Sam leaned back in his seat, and scratched the back of his head. “That’s just how you are. It doesn’t give them the right to say the same things to you.”
Tommy considered this, staring at the ground. “Don’t I deserve it?”
“No.” Sam didn’t hesitate, and Tommy scowled.
“Why not, Sam? Why wouldn’t I?”
Sam frowned, sensing Tommy was setting him up for failure here. He steeled himself, trying his best to be honest but not brutally so. “Because, well.” He sighed, struggling for words. “Because they’re adults, Tommy. They have years of experience, compared to you, and should know better. You shouldn’t talk that way or put that much pressure on any kid. That doesn’t make you any less smart, or any less capable, but--” Sam cut off, and watched Tommy hide his head into his knees, arms folding around them so he could hide. “It became a pattern. You would get in trouble for something, and then you received punishment fit for an adult, if not worse. You never deserved all the bad that happened to you.”
“I don’t know why they--” Tommy shook his head, voice muffled through his knees. “I thought I liked being in control, I thought I liked being a founder of L’Manburg. But now it’s all my fault everything’s gone. Don’t they deserve to be angry with me, Sam? I bled for my country, Sam. I bled for all of them, I went through exile with fucking Dream, Sam. But what if it wasn’t enough? What if what I did wasn’t enough, because L’Manburg died anyway?”
“Why does L’Manburg’s legacy rest only on your shoulders? Why are you the one who has to carry it all?” Sam genuinely asked; this had always confounded him. Tubbo was president, and he had a whole cabinet outside of Tommy. And even then L’Manburg fell because of Dream and Technoblade. They were to blame, and even if Tommy had caused some of it it wasn’t as if all that blame was just on him. To prove his point further, Tubbo’s cabinet including Tommy were majorly made up of children. It was a shit-show all around.
Tommy stubbornly wiped his eye with his sleeve.
“I wanted to do it for him. I wanted it to be as good as he wanted.” Tommy whispered.
Sam slowly pressed buttons on his console, and jaggedly Sam Nook’s arm mechanically raised to rest atop Tommy’s shoulders. “No matter what happened, it wouldn’t surprise me that he was proud that you tried, you know? It doesn’t matter that L’Manburg’s not here anymore, because that was never your fault to begin with. You tried your best, Tommy, okay? Stop thinking about what everyone else thinks about you, you are the one who needs to realize that what happened to L’Manburg wasn’t your fault. You’re the one who needs to take pride in what you’ve done.”
Tommy was silent for a minute until he dropped his arms, and sat up straighter, eyes staring steadily ahead. “Thank you, Sam.”
Sam smiled, practically deflating in his seat with relief. He hadn’t fucked it up. “I’m always going to be here, Tommy.”
Tommy looked over at him incredulously out of the corner of his eye. “You promise?”
“No matter what happens,” Sam said, and he really meant it. “I will be here.”
--
The first coherent thought he had after being set free from being trapped in the egg all night was guilt. In hindsight, it probably didn’t look good that Sam said that he’d always be there for Tommy to get kidnapped soon after and disappear.
It wasn’t anyone’s fault, he was just going to chalk it up as the Egg’s fault rather than anyone else’s. But it didn’t change the fact that, as always, it had to be Tommy saving the day. It had to be Tommy inserting himself and being pressured to do the right thing, fixing others’ mistakes. It was him and him alone who seemed to have all of it on his shoulders, and Sam desperately wanted to change that; to make what he had asked him a couple of days ago to be false.
Blearily Sam figured at least Puffy was there, trying and failing to give her directions as he sat down in the boat on the road to his house. Tommy didn’t have to deal with him alone. And as much as Sam and Puffy bickered, pranking one another, gifting each other creeper and sheep remains respectively, and being overall annoying to one another, he took a little solace that she seemed to be the only other adult who recognized that they were dealing with children. Neither of them had the conversation, and if they did it was brief, but it was almost natural for them to want to protect and give these poor kids a break. There was an understanding between them, whether Tommy knew that or not.
But regardless of Sam’s regret, it didn’t change the fact that he was so far out of commission it was going to take him a few days to pull himself together. The mental and physical strain was awful. It only added on top of everything else, and Sam ended up giving up everything to the Egg. That meant he needed to move on to his second set of netherite armor, and he’d have to put the time in to prep another. And even though creeper meat was technically edible, it made you sick. Also probably not good that Sam resorted to eating himself, but it was survival over delicacy. He wouldn’t have done it if he knew it would mess him up.
He felt sluggish, his head swimming with pain, and when they reached shore he leaned heavily on Tommy and Puffy’s shoulders. What Puffy couldn’t make up for in height she made up for in strength. Sam was a big, strong guy. It wasn’t going to be easy for a lanky kid and for someone as short as she, but eventually they managed.
Sam felt terrible to have to be so dependent on them, and inwardly grimaced at the look on Tommy’s face when they finally got inside. More and more this began to feel like his home away from home, as he was at the prison more than not. But it still felt good to be back and see Fran again. Her food was automated, too, so she was a healthy old girl. She narrowed her eyes at Tommy and Puffy, and they exchanged a glance over her head.
“You have a dog?”
“Fran.” Sam murmured, and reached down to pet at her fur. She was a strong, tall thing, and growled in an appreciative way, low and dangerous but happy for her owner to be home. “She’s the oldest pet on the server, save for fish.” Sam muttered, and Tommy made a noise of surprise.
Sam put a lot of effort into protecting her, it went unsaid how sad it was that everyone’s pets seemed to die all the time. Sam considered himself pretty good at keeping her safe. Any close calls with creepers didn’t count; they were just from Sam’s lack of patience. He’d much rather be building, he didn’t have time for torches. Any way you looked at it, though, it was pretty impressive.
“Are you going to be okay here, Sam? Do you want us to stay?” Puffy asked, Tommy hovering behind her shoulder and quiet. Sam looked between the two of them and shook his head, reaching down again to pat Fran on the back. She was grounding him, and he thought falling over and stumbling probably wouldn’t be a good look for him.
“No no, I’ll be okay here. Thank you for rescuing me.” He said, and Puffy and Tommy exchanged yet another glance. He would be the first to admit that it probably wasn’t too good of an idea to leave him alone, but he didn’t want to worry Tommy anymore than he probably did. He’d broken their routine with Sam Nook, and he ventured to guess it had made Tommy uncomfortable, though he wouldn’t admit it. Sam could push through the sickness if he had to.
“Are you sure?” Puffy asked again, and Sam leveled her with a look, asking with his eyes not to push this any further than it had already gone. It wasn’t their place to help, and especially not Tommy’s right now.
“Yes.”
Ten minutes later Sam found himself on his bed, Fran curled up with her head in his lap. She wasn’t a lap dog in the slightest, but he’d allow it this once. In all honesty, he didn’t remember the last time he’s slept here, let alone sit on it just to sit. He pulled more all-nighters than he’d like to admit, and often just napped in the prison with alarms set on his tablet or at Ponk’s whenever it really got bad.
He was glad he had a spare tablet, though. It made him more sick to think of all that he had lost to the Egg, and he was trying to do the opposite. He had instant health potions sitting beside him and a dinner of golden carrots when he was ready, trying to speed up the process of recovery. So, for now all he could do was sit and wait.
A part of him thought Tommy won’t, that Tommy will have found something better to do than visit Sam Nook, but a larger part of him wasn’t surprised when Tommy gawked and neared closer, stopping just short of Sam Nook with a smile on his face.
“How’d you get here so quickly?” Tommy exclaimed, and Sam found himself chuckling, listening to Sam Nook’s audio begin to play as if nothing had happened. Tommy shook his head with a sharp laugh, and Sam was relieved that everything was back to normal again.
As said before Sam Nook could operate by himself, so Sam just watched. It was weird to just watch. It was weird to just watch, especially when he wasn’t surrounded by the walls of the prison, or when he wasn’t covered in armor from head to toe, or when he wasn’t keeping an eye on Dream out of the corner of his eye. It was a break Sam wasn’t expecting, and as much as he wanted to get up and just start working again he found himself deep in thought.
He looked up to the ceiling and closed his eyes.
Why had Tommy saved him?
If he remembered correctly, Tommy was the one who found him, but why did he go looking in the first place? Why would he go looking for Sam, instead of assuming that Sam was just busy or Sam Nook wasn’t working correctly?
Why put in that effort?
It was a little baffling. Sam would have thought that Tommy would just assume something was wrong and just shrug it off, but he didn’t. Tommy actively must have done something to search him out; you didn’t just assume that one would be held captive by the Egg, several meters underground.
Sam opened his eyes and looked back to his tablet, a shrill piece of laughter at something Sam Nook said flooding his room, making Fran wince as she tried to sleep. He found himself smiling, and patted her head.
Maybe it was because Tommy actually cared about him.
--
“Sam, put the tablet down.” Ponk prodded him in the side with an elbow, and Sam grumbled, pocketing it. “You’ve been working non-stop, you’re supposed to be relaxing right now.” Ponk pointed out, and Sam nodded to him, mentally kicking himself. It was true.
He and Ponk were getting closer, but it was becoming harder and harder to maintain their relationship when Sam was the definition of a workaholic. He was building the hotel, building the bank, and fulfilling his role as warden to the prison. It took up time he didn’t have, and he still valued Ponk’s time.
Sitting and picnicking with Ponk was a healthy change of setting. Even if Sam was the one who had to bring all of the food and drinks as payback for accepting to be Ponk’s valentine too late. It was still the fourteenth, so it did count, but he supposed Ponk still had a right to be upset with him, planning that elaborate ride for Sam to get to it only hours before Valentines ended.
Sam pulled his gas mask down so that it was resting beneath his chin, and took a bite out of some sort of cake he’d bought. Puffy had made it and said Ponk would like it, so Sam didn’t try to question her or argue. He didn’t really have the time or energy to second guess on cakes. He turned to his side and blew out smoke--it was second nature; one of the great side effects of being born half creeper--and passed the rest of the cake along to Ponk.
He grinned, and leaned against Sam’s shoulder once he’d secured the mask back onto his face.
“So,” Ponk began in between bites of cake, “What is this Sam Nook thing about? I take it that thing was you, eh?” He said, and Sam nodded, fighting the habitual urge to take his tablet out of his pocket and check to make sure everything was alright. It was like an itch, now.
“Yeah, they’re just a robot I made for Tommy. Helps him build that hotel he wants so that I don’t have to be there all the time.”
“You built a robot... for Tommy?” Ponk asked, picking up his head to raise a brow at Sam who shrugged.
“Why not? ‘Kid needs something to keep him busy.”
Ponk snorted, and took another bite. “Something to keep him out of trouble.”
Sam hummed, and passed another cake along to Ponk. “He’s not as bad as he seems.” He said lightly, and Ponk scoffed, not knowing whether to take him seriously or not.
“Really, Sam? Tommy?”
“Yes, Tommy,” Sam frowned, and Ponk sucked in his cheek. “He’s got a lot on his shoulders, he’s not a bad kid.”
“...You keep saying kid.” Ponk muttered after a minute. He wrung his hands, as if he were debating whether or not to finish his sentence. “He isn’t really one, is he?”
Sam turned to face him, surprised. “What? Yes, he’s a kid, Ponk. He’s sixteen.”
Ponk winced. “Huh? Sixteen? I thought people only called him a kid as a joke.” He admitted with a dry laugh, and Sam groaned, pinching his nose. “Is that why you insist on keeping an eye on him like this?” Ponk asked with a gesture to his pocket where the tablet was. He laid his hand overtop of Sam’s where it was resting between them, as if he could tell Sam was itching to grab it and check.
“I just feel bad for him. He’s just a kid and he’s had so much happen. I’ve heard things people don’t know that are awful, Ponk.” Sam confessed, diverting his eyes, and Ponk softened. Sam was typically keen on trying to stay stoic at all times; he wasn’t supposed to let stuff get to him, and hated the public to see him for anything less. He had a status to maintain. Ponk, however, got to see that side more than most.
“Was it with Dream?” Ponk murmured, and Sam threaded their hands together.
“Yes.”
“So, the kid’s had terrible things happen.” Ponk said, and Sam nodded. “Why do you care?”
“Why do I care?” Sam echoed in disbelief, his head snapping up to attention, as if the answer was obvious and Ponk was crazy for suggesting otherwise. Ponk tilted his head to the side.
“Yeah. You never used to talk to Tommy before, so why now? Most of L’Manburg didn’t know you existed until you had already finished the prison.” Ponk stated, and that was true. Sam never felt a need to get involved in the wars with L’Manburg, let alone the people inside. He only served as backup for Dream when necessary.
“I don’t know.” He sighed. “I just feel like someone owes it to them. Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo. They don’t have anyone to turn to and it just--it doesn’t sit right with me. People just walk all over them expecting them to behave and they’re all still…” He trailed off, calming himself down as he watched smoke filter through his mask in clouds in front of him. “Kids.”
Ponk squeezed his hand, and they sat in silence for a while. If Sam didn’t know any better, he would have thought that he became even more pale after all of his time in the prison, his hand almost paper-white in Ponk’s. The sun felt nice on his face, and the breeze as it swept through the grass was infinitely better than the redstone fans Sam had installed in his office. And Ponk’s hand in his, warm and real, was also a nice touch to the outside world.
“I think you’re doing a really good thing, Sam.” Ponk eventually murmured, and Sam grinned, squeezing back.
“Thanks, Ponky.”
“I mean it. You're doing good.” He repeated more forcefully, and leaned forward to dig through more of the goodies Sam brought before pressing one into Sam’s free hand and taking another for himself.
Sam chuckled, staring at the cake in his hand, smile fading. “Ponk, I have no idea what I’m doing.” It felt awful to admit it, but it was true. He was winging it every step of the way, and it felt good to confide in someone about it. Ponk bumped his shoulder with his own, and slowly Sam met his eye.
“Sammy, do you think any father knows what they’re doing?” He asked, and Sam smiled wide enough that it split his face, hidden beneath his mask. He leaned into Ponk and rested his head on his shoulder, letting his eyes shut. Ponk exclaimed beneath him before laughing, and Sam squeezed his hand tighter.
Maybe going outside every once and awhile really did have its perks.
--
Sam watched carefully on his tablet as the lava began to fall, Tommy getting trapped within the cell beside Dream. He turned to his side to flip a lever, and the wall dropped between them.
This was the last visit.
This was the closure Tommy deserved. Tommy would finally get to say goodbye to the person who had caused him so much pain. And though Sam couldn’t show it, he was excited for him. He was unbelievably happy for him. Dream wouldn’t be able to hurt him anymore.
Sam watched Dream carefully, taking a seat to the side, balancing the tablet on his knee. The visit went about how it did last time. Tommy and Dream bickering, Tommy feeling the need to talk over Dream. It was a nervous reaction if anything else. The only way to get Dream to stop talking in Tommy’s experience was to curse him out, even if it didn’t work all the time. And Dream just took it more often than not. There was no telling what was going on in his head. He’d much rather talk about the clock or the lava or his “swimming” than himself.
But he didn’t have to do that when Tommy was around, because Tommy would not stop talking.
Sam’s thoughts were interrupted when he heard TNT alarmingly close. Instinctively he looked at the ceiling before jumping into action, starting off toward the exit without another word to Tommy or Dream. A maximum of three lever switches and he was gone. He tore through the air, stood on the roof and found no one. He sprinted, adrenaline fueling not one but two entire laps around the prison. He searched for any traces of evidence, any type of footprints, and he found nothing. He ducked back inside his office and ran diagnostics on one monitor and looked through security footage on the other.
He felt fear.
The prison was fine. No major breaks that couldn’t be fixed in seconds’ time, and Dream and Tommy were still safe in the high security cell. But it was the fact someone had made an attack, the fact that someone was able to attack without being detected. If Sam couldn’t figure out who this was, who’s to say they wouldn’t attack again? Who’s to say they wouldn’t attack again and again, testing possible solutions and seeing what impacted the prison’s walls and what didn’t? And now Sam had to come up with a solution on his own. It had been Dream who helped him and gave suggestions for the prison, but he was utterly alone here. Not only was he the only guard, the warden, but he was the only person with knowledge of the prison.
There was nothing to find. Sam looked everywhere, and found nothing. He leaned back into his seat with a groan, guilt solidly landing on his shoulders. The last few hours out of the corner of his eye he’d watched Tommy and Dream yell at each other and fight--most of that one-sided--but now they were sitting on the opposite sides of the room from one another. Dream sat right by the lava, and Tommy was leaned against the chest in the corner, knees drawn to his chest. Dream was writing, and Tommy ate his potatoes in silence.
Sam stared and watched as the automated potatoes dropped,Tommy not even making an effort to move towards them as Dream was already getting up. He watched Dream hold out Tommy’s portion, as Sam had tripled it, and as Tommy slowly grabbed it, terrified of a wrong move that could send Dream teetering over their well-defined edge.
One more lap around the prison wouldn’t hurt, Sam decided with a sigh. Just one more time for the sake of his sanity. He ran a diagnostic check and found nothing, other than one heat signature just by the front gate. His brow creased, and he started for the exit without another glance at his monitors.
He stepped through the portal, and instead of anger he felt even more fear. He started forward with no words and grabbed the person outside by their arm, ignoring their shouts as he forcibly pulled them away.
Once Sam thought they were far enough away, Ponk ripped his arm away and reeled on him, furious.
“What the fuck, Sam?” Ponk yelled, and Sam shook his head, putting a finger to his lips. Ponk raised a brow at the tired look on his face, but crossed his arms and waited for his explanation.
“It’s not safe here. Go home.”
“Not safe? What do you mean? The prison’s the safest place on the server.”
Sam pressed his mouth into a fine line. “No, Ponk, it isn’t.”
“What happened?” Ponk asked, all of his frustration and anger suddenly gone as he realized the severity of what Sam was implying.
“Someone attacked today while Tommy was visiting. I don’t know who.” Sam murmured, and Ponk looked over Sam’s shoulder at the prison.
“Is he alright? Did something happen to him?”
“No, no. He’s fine but he’s just--” Sam’s mouth snapped shut, and he quickly looked all around them in case someone was listening. He couldn’t talk about it here. It wasn’t safe for anyone. Sam looked back down to meet Ponk’s eyes. “Our date,” Sam said, changing the subject. “I know I was supposed to be there after Tommy’s visit but I-- I have to go back.”
Ponk gave him a look. “Sam, it’s been hours.”
“I can’t just leave him, Ponk.”
“You’re not going to pull seven all-nighters either, are you?” Ponk asked, and Sam looked away. It was true, if Sam stayed this first night he’d force himself to stay awake for all the others. “Listen, I find it hard to believe you haven’t done all you can already. You’re wearing yourself down to the bone.” Ponk pointed out, hand sliding up to rest on the side of his face above the mask, and Sam sighed.
“I can’t…”
“You can,” Ponk assured him, and Sam looked to the ground. “Come home with me just for tonight. You can leave right when you wake up in the morning, okay? Dream’s not going to do anything to him; he’s not stupid.”
“But what if he does?”
“What if you overwork yourself and pass out from exhaustion? What if you overwork yourself and make yourself sick, Sam, and no one can save Tommy? What then?”
Sam stared at him in awe, and Ponk smiled victoriously.
“Let’s go. You’ll have dinner, and then right to bed.”
“You sound like my mom.” Sam muttered, but followed Ponk home before he could change his mind. It was a little rundown, but Ponk’s bedroom had been fixed and all of the appliances still worked fine. Ponk shoved him into a shower while he cooked, and Sam felt as if he were sleepwalking, watching the ash at his feet drain almost solemnly, mind working through every possible solution and still, still finding none.
Sam heard a knock on the bathroom door and jumped, snapping out of it. “Oi! You’re running my water bill!” Ponk called out to him, and Sam finally realized that the water had long gone cold. He dried himself and stepped out apologetically, not meeting Ponk’s eyes and instead eyeing the platter of food Ponk had spread on a tray.
“You had clothes left here from before, I laid them out for you.” Sam looked to the bed where they were splayed out for him. “I’ll be right back.” Ponk said, and he was gone again.
Sam felt like a robot himself as he went through the motions, staring at his armor he’d put in the corner of the room, and the weapons leaned against the walls. He ate sat next to the platter because he had to, not because he was hungry. It looked appetizing, and it certainly was delicious, but Sam could not find it in him to force it all down.
He couldn’t bring himself to look at Ponk as he came back into the room, and for a minute Ponk only watched, not saying anything.
“You look like you’re wide awake.”
“I am.”
“No, you’re not. You look wide awake, but you’re exhausted.” Ponk pointed out. He closed the distance between them, and sat down next to him, putting a hand to his knee. “There’s nothing you can do. You need to sleep.”
“I just get to do that?” Sam breathed, and Ponk frowned, waiting patiently for him to explain. “I just get to be here, with you, eat good food, and sleep. I just get to do that, while Tommy suffers with him?” Sam asked, and Ponk deflated.
“You’re one man. Even you need rest, Sam.”
Sam shook his head. “I’m failing him.” He murmured, and Ponk squeezed his knee.
“No, you’re not. You’ve done nothing but help him, Sam. Why can’t you see that?”
“I just want to do right by him, but somehow I’m just making it worse,” He breathed. “It’s frustrating how it still feels like I’m too far away like I can’t just… like I can’t just be there for him all the time.”
“You will be,” Ponk promised. “You’ll find a way to rescue him.”
Sam squeezed the hand resting over his knee. “I hope so.”
—
It’s been a week and Sam hasn’t found anything.
It angered him like no other, and he found himself caving and walking out of his office toward the main cell.
He knew it had been a week.
But everything they had worked for, keeping Dream inside, would be at risk if he were to break protocol. The restrictions were set for a reason, and were meant to keep everyone safe.
And yet he found himself walking closer and closer, until they could hear his footsteps on the other side.
“Sam! Sam?!” Tommy shouted, and briefly Sam glanced down at his tablet, watching Tommy’s face light with hope.
“I’m here.” He called back.
Tommy started to ask for Sam to let him go, and regretfully everytime Sam had to tell him no, Sam had to bring up protocol, and the contracts Tommy had signed.
But Tommy kept screaming.
He was begging for Sam, crying for him, and Dream simply stood there, watching. It looked as if he were reveling in Tommy’s pain, grinning and rocking back and forth on his feet patiently. He made Sam’s skin crawl.
“Sam. Please let me out. I’ll do anything, I swear, please.”
Sam’s hand inched closer to the lever of the lava, and he cursed himself.
“I won’t make trouble anymore, I’ll do what you say, Sam, please I can’t be here anymore. I feel like I’m going insane, I can’t—“
Sam blinked, eyes flickering to the ceiling, where he watched the lava start to fall.
He remembered all that Tommy had told him. He remembered the final control room, the election, Pogtopia. He knew of the exile, the betrayal, and the bombs that decimated what he loved. Sam knew it all, and couldn’t bring himself to add to the pile of problems.
He wouldn’t let this be another fear for Tommy to have.
Tommy looked shocked when he saw that the lava began to drop, and his smile went wide in disbelief when his eyes met Sam’s. Dream stood in the corner, ever-passive, and made no movement. Sam was determined to get him out of there as fast as possible.
Tommy stepped onto the moving platform, and came back to Sam in shock, as if he couldn’t believe what Sam’d done. Sam couldn’t believe it either.
Once Tommy’s standing on solid ground Sam grabbed him and didn’t let go, hand on his arm until they were both all the way out, Dream still safely locked inside.
Once Tommy’s sneakers brushed grass, the facade shattered. Sam let him go, and Tommy collapsed to his knees. He’d been through so much stress, had been so scared for his life, and it was over. Tears began to fall until his whole body moved with his pain, and Sam dropped to his knees next to him, throwing an arm around his shoulders. Tommy leaned into him until he was crying into his chest, and Sam’s arms were solidly wrapped around him in a hug.
Sam sat and let him get it all out, doing nothing but holding him. He doesn’t know, and he doesn’t care how much time has passed. Tommy pulls away, and Sam sees how bloodshot his eyes are.
“Do you have anywhere to go?”
Sam shouldn’t be surprised when Tommy croaks out a, “Not really.”
Sam considers, clicking his tongue. “Come live with me. Far away from everyone else.” The words are the same from all of those months ago when Sam had visited Tommy in exile, but the sentiment is vastly different.
Tommy doesn’t buy it, his anxiety searching for an excuse. “Sam, I don’t want to overstep. I’ll—I’m fine, living at the hotel… it’ll be fine—“
“Let me adopt you.” Sam suggested, and doesn’t realize the gravity of the words until the damage was already done. He’d said it in a rush and without thinking, and Tommy’s eyes went wide. Sam recognized there was no way for him to fix it, and can sense the bridge burning between them. But Tommy looks up at him again.
“Do you mean it?” His voice was quiet and full of ache, and Sam’s voice dropped into a sadder octave, heart wrenching at his sincere question.
“Of course I do, Tommy. You’ll be safe, you’ll never have to see Dream again.”
Tommy wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve. “I like this Sam a lot better than Warden Sam.” He said and Sam chuckled, pushing himself to his feet and offering a hand to Tommy.
“I’m serious about this. You can think it over for as long as you want, but I want to adopt you. And I’ll do whatever it takes for you if you want me to.” It had been so obvious the entire time. Sam wasn’t doing this for the sake of doing it, he was doing it because for all of this time he simply wanted nothing more than to be a father for a kid. It was obvious all along.
“I would like that, Sam. Phil and I don’t exactly agree right now, anyway so…”
“So we’ll get his signature and it’ll be done.”
“Really? Just like that?”
“Really.” Sam promised.
“But the prison—“
“You are more important to me than the prison, right now.” Sam snapped, and Tommy gaped. He’d never had someone say anything like that to him ever. It was a slap in the face, and Tommy had never felt so suddenly validated in his life.
—
“All of it is mine?”
Sam snorted, taking his hoe out of his pocket. “No way. Most of it is yours.” He corrected, and Tommy was bouncing with excitement next to him, waiting for the door of Sam’s house to open all the way.
Sam was having Tommy try on armor before they went to Phil and Techno’s, already taking his safety in his own hands and ensuring he got the best of the best. Tommy had been squeezing a chest plate over his head when they both heard footsteps, and Sam mentally kicked himself for forgetting that Ponk was staying the night.
“What’s going on here?” Ponk asked, and Sam couldn’t reply fast enough.
“I’m trying on armor, Ponk! Why’re you here?” Tommy asked, and Ponk scoffed.
“I basically live here!” He turned to Sam. “What happened? You got him out?”
“You could say that.” Sam said, and Ponk read him like a hawk.
“What else is there?” Ponk asked, and Sam scratched the back of his head.
“I’m going to adopt Tommy.” He said, and watched Tommy gauge Ponk’s reaction out of the corner of his eye, getting ready to run to save his skin if need be.
Neither of them expect laughter. “Hahaha, I’m going to be your dad, bitch!” Ponk cackled, and Tommy looked ready to die on the spot.
“What?! Take that back!” He shouted, and Ponk would not stop giggling.
“Yeah, you’re in deep shit now Mr. Innit! You’re fucked!” Ponk continued, and Tommy turned to Sam for help even though he could give him none.
Sam was too busy being relieved that Ponk didn’t dump him over the sudden acquisition of a child, which he couldn’t really blame him for.
“That asshole.” Tommy cursed, but Sam could see the slightest bit of smile on his face, and it was enough.
“You’re okay?” Sam asked, and Tommy looked at him with appreciation, deep and warm.
“I’m okay. And Sam?”
“What is it?”
“You were right. You were right, because Wilbur did say he was proud of me.”
Sam smiled back at him. “I’m proud of you, too.”