Chapter Text
Tommy's not sure how he ended up in the past. One moment he was mining stone for the Tommy-Boxes and messing around with Foolish after they had found a particularly strange and possibly cursed sea-pickle, and the next he was staring at black and yellow walls. Walls he hadn't seen in months and months.
He stood outside what seemed to be L'manberg's original walls, though of course, that was impossible his mind told him. And he had a brilliant mind so of course whatever his eyes were telling him was utter nonsense. Similar nonsense was the blonde tuft hair peeking out over the top, looking down at him. Tommy only really started to take in what was going on around him when said tuft began swearing at him.
In a second, the world around him went from feeling very far away to too much it's too much, as the sun shone just a bit too bright, the grass just a too saturated green and that fucking voice getting closer.
All he could manage in that moment was to breathe. In four, hold four, out four, and hold four again. His hands gripped at the fabric of his shorts, scrunching it up and moving it against his fingertips. Focusing on one sensation helped, and Tommy's brain had decided to cooperate again, just in time for him to spot the source of the swearing.
He almost lost his cool again. Standing at least an inch shorter, scar-free, eyes blazing blue, and clad in the L'manberg revolutionary uniform... was himself. A littleinnit. Looking so fucking free, bitterness was burning in the back of Tommy's throat and he struggled to swallow it.
"—I said, who the fuck are you, ay?! You can't go around dressing up like me! That is just not done. There's is only one TommyInnit, and I must say though you do have the height, you do not look nearly dashing, and you know I do have a reputation to keep with the, uh, the ladies, ayy."
This younger-looking version of him had gone from swearing and angry to smirking and cocky, with a small eyebrow wiggle to finish.
Tommy laughed. He couldn't help it. Which this littleinnit did not take kindly to.
"OY! Shut up you!" Little Tommy sputtered. "I am a Big Man, capital B, capital Mmm, and I will not be laughed at like a smaller, lesser man. I am The wife haver on the server, I'll have you know, and it does not look great to have someone with your ugly mug impersonating me. Ah, why are dressed like me? And who are you? Your name tag is looking bit scuffed there, mate."
He over-pronounced the word mate and gave Tommy a questioning look as if only properly examining him now.
Tommy stopped laughing. His name tag... He took out his communicator and was baffled to see that instead of TommyInnit, his tag was currently a mess of symbols and letters that he couldn't make heads or tails of.
He decided to try and explain.
"This is going to sound a bit nutters, but uh, I think I might be you? From the future. And I'm somehow in the past now. Possibly because of a cursed pickle."
The littler version of him blinked a few times, then turning his head towards the top of the wall, shouted with zero care for the eardrums of those around him, as loud his lungs allowed, "WIIIIIIIIIIIILL!"
And it was in his panic at the sound of the shout that Tommy did something he would come to regret very quickly. First, he tried to cover the kid's mouth. He was promptly bitten with the ferocity of a rabid dog who was not going to let go. Stifling a yell of his own, he was forced to grab the littler man to try and wrench his hand back only for the momentum to propel them at the hard concrete wall behind.
There was dull thunk, and then the kid in the revolutionary uniform was still. Tommy's heart threatened to stop before the little man gave a soft groan, confirming his status as alive but unconscious.
Giving his surroundings a panicked glance and still gripping onto the kid's shirt, he bent his knees, picked little Tommy up, fireman style, and just... Ran off with him. There was no way he was waiting around for Wilbur whoever might be nearby.
So he didn't exactly have a plan when he kidna— ran off with his younger self. He certainly didn't kidnap him, he was well, him. And you can't kidnap yourself. He would never let himself be kidnapped by anyone therefore this wasn't kidnapping. Obviously.
It did leave the question of what he was going to do now. So many builds didn't exist yet, so many people who hadn't arrived and wouldn't for many months. Where to go? He didn't want to see any Dream team people, much less any L'manbergians. It would be too raw. Like, how was he supposed to be around Tubbo who had never faced death, or a Wilbur who was still so so good and so kind? Or an Eret who had yet to make the biggest mistake of their life and learn the price of treachery?
Ponk, Sapnap, and Alyssa had all been involved in the first Disc War, though it had been just considered a bit fun in this time, nothing worth someone's life or freedom. Still, they were out. Who did that leave? Trees and grass passed by him as he ran, the terrain becoming a blur as he moved further and further out from the SMP and a L'Manberg in its infancy.
Sam, Callahan, Bad, and George. Prime, had he really been burned so many times that he couldn't bring himself to trust people who hadn't even done any shit to him yet? That fucking sucked. Guess he was just fucked up then huh. What a waste of space he was. Sam hadn't built the prison yet, hadn't helped him with his hotel, or let him into to visit Dream before fucking leaving him in there and letting him die and why did he do that what had he done to fucking deserve that he hadn't he hadn't—
Oh. He hadn't realized where he had subconsciously run to until he saw it didn't exist yet. His summer home. The first one, not the Cube that Dream had blown up on the way to exile. He took his tools, constructed a simple cobblestone house on that tall, empty hill, thinking all the while. When he was done, he deposited the littler Innit inside, careful not to bump his head... Again.
At least he still had his shit. No ender chest or jukebox, unfortunately. But he wasn't starting from scratch, which was important. He also had his beloved shovel Linda, which was double important. -He was fine. everything was fine, he was going to make everything fine—
"Bloody hell, my noggin fuckin' hurts... Wiiiiil, can you get some ice big man? I believe I have been concussed! Like, a melon set on a wash cycle. Oh! I'd take some drugs if you got—"
The little man was sitting up, propping himself against the wall and blinking at the strange look-alike who was most definitely not Wilbur. Tommy moved fast, bringing his palms to cover the kid's mouth, and had to stifle his instinctive reaction as the kid fucking licked him. Why. Why. Ew.
He levelled his Serious Big Man Stare at him and spoke softly.
"I'm gonna take my hands off if you promise not to scream again. Nod if you promise."
A beat. A bit of sweat dripped down his back. Then a slow nod. Good. Good, that was... Good. He moved his hands away, not taking his eyes off the little man for a second. The kid's brow was furrowed, a specific expression that Tommy had never expected to see so perfectly mirrored on another individual. He was going to start asking questions in three, two, one—
"What the hell are you?"
What. Not who. Huh...
"I tried to tell you earlier. I'm you but from the future. You might wonder why I look like shit. That is 'cause the future is shit. Too much happens for me to tell you all of it, even if I thought it was a good idea to give you nightmares. Haaaa, so many nightmares..." He trailed off, his gaze sliding over the kid and at the wall.
The littler Innit, having had enough, lightly kicked at his shin, successfully and painfully bringing his focus back.
"First off, ow. Third off, that was so unnecessary, there are many ways to get my attention and pain is not in my brain right now so please don't do that again. Secondly," he paused while the kid laughed at his ordering, "I am going to stop as much of that crap as I can. I have the all-powerful ability called Knowing Everything, and with it, I'm gonna save your three lives, and hopefully everyone else's. Mostly you though."
The kid stops laughing as he realizes he's not joshing. "Seriously? How could I be in danger of bad shit? I am the Biggest Man on this server. nothing bad happens to me, I am the bad thing that happens to other people! Shit no wait, I didn't mean how that came out."
Tommy lets himself chuckle a little, but was trying hard not to lose his solemnity. Little Innit needed to understand the stakes. That people would be hurt, traumatized, die; if you're unlucky, or your name was Tommy Careful Danger Kraken Innit, you would be three for three.
He said as much too. He didn't mention specific names; the last thing he wanted was for the little man to get overly involved. He was still attached to Wilbur and would follow him, regardless of the cost to himself.
The kid began quietly picking at the grit between stones, his eyes were focused down, but Tommy knew he was listening anyway. Finally, he spoke, softer this time.
"Sounds like you've been through hell, Big Man. And I guess, if you're me from the future, then making sure I don't bite it is good, 'cause you need to keep existing. But still... Why did you concuss me and put us in a boring stone box house-thingy? You know what's going to happen Mr. Future Badass, so you tell me, I don't do any of the stuff that lands me dying, and working together, we stop all the other crap!"
And Tommy felt as if an old wound had been scratched open by a salted finger. His heart was being assaulted, this wasn't fair. He didn't want to tell the child in front of him, the child he was no longer, that so much was just... Out of his control. That he didn't know how to avoid Dream's attention. He never understood why he had drawn it in the first place because even with Dream's evil monologue, the bastard's logic was irrational and hardly a reliable source.
"I didn't have a plan when I did that. Sorry by the way. You were shouting for Wil-Wilbur and my brain went screamy and I just acted. Only really started coming together while I was building this hut. As for what I'm going to do," Might as well bite the bullet.
"I've been through hell, you're right. But I'm fucking prepared to do it again if it means you—" he pointed emphatically at the kid's chest "—never ever have to. You'll never see war. Or feel betrayal. Or the pain of losing your home. Or dying twice in a single day for a country he claimed to never care about—
He stopped. Little Tommy just moved to sit quietly by his side, with one hand on his shoulder, the other half reaching out towards his face, which felt wet? And his vision was blurry. He went to touch his face and found tears sliding down his cheek. Oh.
They sat like that for a few minutes, before Tommy had enough silence.
He sniffled a bit and said, "I keep you calling little Innit or little man in me head. That's not right. You should be Tommy proper."
Little In- Tommy nodded, considering, then said, "And what about you? What's everyone gonna call you?"
"Uhh, I was thinking maybe Thomas? Or uh, Theo."
"Theo is a badass name. Thomas is boring."
"Theo it is then."
And Theo was grateful that Tommy never asked why he suggested it or what it was short for. Hah, his Techno would have gotten a kick out of it that's for sure.