Work Text:
“Tommy. Listen to me. If I ever see you near this prison again, I will murder you. I will take this last canon life, and I will hunt down your ghost. Do you understand me? I will never let Dream escape, and you are the only one who wants to let him be free.”
“I don’t want him to be free I want him fucking dead. Where does it say in the contract that death is not allowed?”
“Death would be freedom for him Tommy. Do I need you to read the contract again? Would you like me to read it for you?”
Sam doesn’t let him answer, and instead pulls out an ender chest and places it down, to retrieve what Tommy can only guess is the original copy of the waiver. He reaches in too, despite knowing he won’t see what Sam has placed in there, and he doesn’t miss the way Sam slams down the lid the moment Tommy’s fingers just leave the edge.
He opens the book and coughs, as if Tommy’s some child come to see a performance in a hall.
“I hereby assume all of the risks of visiting the holding cell, including by the way of example and not limitation, any risks that may arise from negligence or carelessness on the part of the Prison Guards, prisoners misbehaving, from dangerous or defective equipment.”
Tommy’s aware of that rule. He’s been trapped here before. He knows that the dispensers for food might stop working. He knows the bridge is worn from extension. He cut his palm on it once.
“OR.”
Right, he’d zoned out.
“Property owned, maintained or controlled by the prison guards. I certify that I waive, release and discharge the prison from any and all liability, including but not limited to, death, disability, personal injury, property damage, property theft...”
Sam’s droning on a bit now, and all Tommy can focus on is the loophole. Tommy can’t hold the prison responsible, but he can hold the warden responsible. He can discharge the prison from all liability, but he doesn’t have to discharge Sam. He can hold Sam responsible for his death.
For the experience that feels like when Techno used to push his shoulders down, under the water when they went swimming. Maybe he’s always been wanted dead. He’d only been six. Coughing and spluttering as his brothers roared in laughter.
“...Including my travelling to and from visiting the prisoner.”
Sam looks up to make a second of eye contact, before looking down at the book again.
“Signed, TommyInnit (aka Big T)”
Sam closes this book and moves into the next one.
“In the event that a prisoner is to escape during my visit, or after my visit because of my actions, I hereby give permission for any individual to hunt me down and kill me until I am completely dead.”
Tommy can’t help the scoff that half forces its way out of his throat. This is the clause Sam claims he’s breaking. As if death can be Dream’s freedom.
“Signed, Tommy Big T Careful Danger Innit.”
Sam knows nothing of death. Even in respawn, nothing comes close to the feeling of death. To being stuck in the inbetween.
He knows what happened. Every atom, every piece of him came apart. It shattered, broke, until he was everything and everywhere and nothing at once. Death is everything tearing apart. You are done, your purpose complete, there is no reason for you to exist, and the universe begins to break you down, to recycle you for the next person.
For how it felt to his brain however, he has no words. He cannot explain the pain, cannot express the fear.
Sometimes, in the rare moments Tommy catches sleep, he wakes up cold, aware that every atom that makes him up once belonged to someone else. He is recycled leftovers, hundreds of thousands of millions of people that have been broken down and torn apart in the way he was.
Sometimes, he’s even more aware that his return might have killed someone. That someone’s child has come into the world still and not breathing, his atoms not there to provide the life they needed. He’s even worse than Dream. Dream never killed a child.
Tommy isn’t a child, he’s never counted as a child.
Death is not freedom, it’s even more of a trap.
“In event of security protocol taking place while I am within the bounds of the maximum security cell, I hereby acknowledge that I could potentially be locked within the cell for up to 7 days, or until the security issue is resolved.”
He’s all too familiar with this one. This rule is a rule that killed him. A rule that ripped his soul from his body. A rule that left him trapped and terrified with a man he knows will never leave him alone. A man who will find new ways to trap and torment and hurt him. He’s sure that even now, Dream’s doing something and Tommy knows he’s wasting every second he stands here, but he hurt Ghostbur maybe he’ll finally be able to piss off everyone, he’ll see the anger and know he’s finally got what he deserved.
“Signed, Big T TommyInnit.”
Sam lets out a sigh, like he’s chiding a four-year-old that’s drawn on the walls with crayon. Not like he’s addressing a traumatised child of war, who only wanted death for a man, so he couldn’t hurt anyone else anymore.
“Is that enough for you? Have I made things clear now? Are you reminded of our agreement?”
Tommy doesn’t answer. There’s a reason he reached into that enderchest. He has a book of his own that Sam seems to have forgotten. He doesn’t look up when he pulls the book out, ignores the confused sound that escapes Sam’s lips, and begins to read.
“Contract for Awesamdude:”
There’s almost a scoff, as if Sam’s tired of this. Has Sam forgotten this agreement?
“All building done under TommyInnit’s name will be credited to TommyInnit fully.”
“I never built this for you Tommy, what are you trying to claim you’re my boss?”
He ignores Sam. He reads on.
“Awesamdude will say POGCHAMP repeatedly from this point forwards until the contract expires.”
They both know the contract hasn’t expired. They also know Sam still doesn’t repeatedly say PogChamp.
“Awesamdude must protect TommyInnit.”
Tommy pretends his voice isn’t shaking. Pretends he doesn’t hear a small intake of breath, as if someone isn’t aware it’s cut out.
“TommyInnit must compensate Awesamdude for the work he’s done within 7 days of contractual finish.”
Tommy powers through these, they don’t matter now.
“Awesamdude will not speak of this contract to anyone, or will have to pay 10 Netherite Ingots to TommyInnit.”
It’s clear Sam forgot this agreement. There’s no need for netherite.
Finally, finally the last line comes. The last one is before him, written in the odd, circular writing Tommy’s always had. He feels a tear drip down and wants to punch himself for it, he’s not supposed to show how much this is hurting him.
He’d just wanted to end the paranoia. He’d wanted Dream to die, so he could stop being so terrified, so they could destroy the prison, so nothing would loom over the server. He wanted safety, was it so hard? Friends were supposed to back you up.
“Awesamdude must declare TommyInnit as one of his best friends.”
Sam definitely hadn’t done that.
“Signed, TommyInnit.”
Here comes a breath, here comes eye contact, here comes the flicker of pain Tommy can spot before Sam schools himself. No emotion then, no mercy then. Fine. The final line, in blocky, stiff scrawl.
“Signed, Awesamdude.”
Tommy doesn’t stop his gaze, even as another tear falls down and his shoulder begins to shape. He knows his eyes are dead. He knows his expression is blank, it’s something he’s taught himself. He hopes Sam is scared by it. A robot crying.
Sam looks away. This is where they stand then.
“You’ve done a pretty shit job of that big- no. You know what? You did a shit job Awesamdude. I hope you’re happy.”
And for the first time in his life, he doesn’t storm out. He spins on his heel and silently walks away.