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Tommy awoke to the sun in his eyes.
He was pretty sure it was the sun, at least. With them setting up shop on a weird new planet every other day, you could never quite be sure of the specifics there.
It would’ve helped if he could remember the mission briefing Phil had given them this morning, but everything felt a bit muddled at the moment.
Concentrating a little more on his surroundings, Tommy blinked to clear the odd haze from his eyes. Dust settled in the air above his head—surely getting all over his hair if the amount in his eyes was anything to go by. Something hard and jagged pressed into his back, solid and uncomfortable enough that he deduced it was probably just the floor.
Oh.
He was on the floor.
In the hazy blink of an eye, everything came back to him all at once. The ringing in his ears finally left him alone; distant crashes and panicked shouting immediately picking up in its absence. Blinding light took over more and more of Tommy’s vision the more he tried to ignore it—the two suns directly above him doing absolute wonders for his growing headache.
Tommy blinked—almost reaching up to rub at his eyes before realising his hand wouldn't move.
Yep, there were definitely two suns in the sky. That felt like something he would have remembered Phil mentioning.
It felt as if his brains were starting to leak out his ears when Tommy tried to recall this morning, so he stopped. Everything around him felt just a little too fuzzy to focus on; the pain thrumming strong in muscles he didn't even know he had.
These were the symptoms of a head injury, right? Tommy was pretty sure this is what you could call a textbook case.
Unfortunately—or rather, ironically—all and any of the first aid classes Techno had forced onto him were completely gone. No recollection. Nada.
Overall, not particularly good odds here. If Tommy could somehow find his helmet from wherever it had fucked off to after his fall, then access to comms would start to even things out again. Until then he was a bit fucked, though.
With a guttural sigh, Tommy steeled himself before slowly shoving grit filled palms down into the dirt—sitting himself up at the expense of his right arm, apparently.
The crunch it gave off seemed to echo against the cliff walls on either side of him, once again, really helping with his pounding headache. Cradling his arm to his chest, it didn't take long to tell it was broken. The odd mix of heat and would do it normally, without even mentioning the funny angle it was bent at—if you really needed the extra confirmation.
But it was fine! Tommy felt weirdly calm about the whole thing, so surely it couldn't be that bad.
When the black spots to his vision cleared again, Tommy cricked his neck uncomfortably to take in his surroundings. The dust didn't really aid in his search for his helmet—neither did the red hot liquid slowly trickling down his face, for that matter.
Groaning miserably, Tommy used his one good arm to shove himself up to his feet, stumbling to the side until he could lean his weight against the jagged stone wall.
He wouldn't quite call it comfortable, but after a couple more minutes of dancing back and forth with his new best friend the wall, he knocked his boot into something solid and metal.
Huh. Solid and metal. That sounded fairly helmet-like.
Knees protesting loudly as he knelt down to pick it up, Tommy slipped the slightly dented headgear over his ears. The comms connected quickly, Techno’s voice calling out to him before Tommy could even pull his hands down.
“Tommy! Gods, quit movin’ around. Stay where you are.”
The blonde breathed shakily, leaning his weight against the wall again to slump to the floor. “...‘s everyone okay?”
“Yeah kid, we’re fine,” Techno assured, the faintest hint of a smile to his voice. “Phil’s coming down to get you, alright? Just hang tight.”
Tommy nodded blearily, the effects of his forty-ish foot fall and drunken stumble combined starting to catch up with him. The stone behind him was cool against his sticky hair—a comforting presence as he lolled his head back against it.
A flash of pink caught his eye, opening them from where they had half-closed to see the edge of Techno’s vibrant hair spilling over the cliff face opposite him. Looking up at the blurry speck of pink, it really hit Tommy just how far he had fallen. No wonder it hurt like a bitch.
“Hey Techno,” he wheezed, a slightly delirious chuckle bubbling up from his lips. “I see you.”
Techno snorted in return, his comm mic just barely picking it up. “Yeah, I see you too. Y’alright down there?”
“Mmm… hurts a lot.”
“I can imagine. You fell, what? A good thirty-five, forty feet?” Techno breathed, a scrap of awe bleeding into his tone. “Humans are weird, man.”
“Felt like fifty,” Tommy complained weakly, revelling in the quiet laugh he drew out of the older alien. If he was about to die from not looking where he was fucking going, at least he could go out having made Technoblade laugh.
Tommy blinked, slowly.
Everything still hurt, if not more than before. The addition of Techno made things a little easier, even if it was getting harder to focus on what the other was saying as the minutes dragged on.
He blinked again. Shutting his eyes to a faint ringing and opening them to frantic talking right in his fucking ear.
“-ey hey hey, c’mon, wake up. Tommy. Hey! I swear- if you die in the bottom of this pit I'll never live it down. Wilbur’ll have my head, c’mon.”
Tommy shifted, grumbling at the elbow shoved into his ribs from where he’d slid down the wall.
“Shu’up,” he managed, eloquently. “..‘m tired.”
“Tough luck!” Techno countered. “You aren’t the one running around up here with the actual threat. Really, you took one look at a hole in the ground and thought: yes. I have met my adversary.”
That felt a little bit unfair. Tommy had definitely been doing most of the work before the earth decided to swallow him whole.
He chose not to voice that fact, though—too tired.
“I bet you couldn't take the hole.”
A snort. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Only big men can survive falls like these.”
The sky seemed to bend above them, green tinged sky blending together with grey and red smoke before Tommy’s eyes. Everything else seemed to blur with it, fading in and out of existence as the human wearily tried to focus on whatever Techno was saying to him.
“Bet I wouldn't fall asleep at the bottom of one.”
“Bitch.”
Still filtering through the crackling speakers of his helmet, Techno’s voice seemed to drift further and further away from Tommy. Every few seconds, it got harder to completely focus on, the words muffling into one continuous sound—sounding quite alien for the fact they shared a common language.
Tommy shook his head to get rid of the blurriness, his efforts only really making it worse.
He took a long second to breathe; choosing to block out Techno’s tinny voice yapping in his ear and focus on ignoring the pain slowly making its recurrence.
Apparently, the second stretched on a little longer than he had intended—as the next thing he knew he was opening his eyes to Phil’s cloudy face.
It swam just above him; blonde hair pulled astray from his low bun and evidence of the battle showing through his grime smeared cheeks. A warm but drained smile tugged on his lips as he knelt over Tommy—flickering lights from his wings glowing just behind his head.
“I got you, mate,” he murmured gently, keeping one eye trained on Tommy’s broken arm as he gathered him into his own. “You’re alright, we’ll get you all fixed up back at the ship.”
Mechanical wings clicked and whirred as he took off from the floor of the chasm, low power lights shining a dull red against the grey cloud of dust. Something other than cold stone walls was a welcome sight after however long it had been, Tommy realised—even if the colours still blended together some.
“Sorry f’r… fallin’,” he wheezed, coming out barely a whisper over the bitter winds kicking up around them. “Stupid ‘f me.”
Phil scoffed lightly, impulsively pulling Tommy closer to his chest. “Oh trust me, I’ve done stupider things in my time—I think you’ll be fine. It’s not like any of us were surviving a fall like that, anyway.”
“..’s cause you’re all bitches.”
“Telling you now, bossman, this is probably the worst idea you’ve ever had.”
“Bold words for someone within kicking distance, Tubbo.”
“You kick me, I’ll just drop you. Simple.”
Just because he could, Tommy booted the back of his heel into Tubbo’s side—even if it was a little awkward from his position on the boy’s shoulders. “Simple.”
“Oh my god, our lives are in the hands of an actual child,” Ranboo ribbed from across the room—unluckily for Tommy (though luckily for him), out of kicking distance.
Shifting his weight to only one of Tubbo’s surprisingly sturdy shoulders, Tommy pulled one foot up to the wall in an attempt to push himself into the open vent. It wasn't exactly what you would call a perfect fit, but at the moment it was either bruise his collarbone a touch or die a fiery death.
Tough choice.
“You wanna come up here, Ranboo?” Tommy challenged, voice echoing against the cold metal of the walls. “I’m sure you could figure out how to teleport into the reactor.”
The Enderian snorted, jokingly standing to his feet with a shrug. “Yep, sure, let me just- Off to beam myself into the cold vacuum of space! Bye guys!”
Tommy chose to ignore the teasing remark, accidentally kicking Tubbo in the face before eventually shimmying the rest of the way into the vent.
Honestly, he had a bone to pick with whoever designed the vents to be halfway up the wall. Or whoever decided to make them so unbelievably small. Did they have some kind of forum page? Provided he made it out of this alive, Tommy had a very scathing review to leave.
It wasn't long until Tommy was falling face first into the reactor room—just barely getting his hands under him before his head made first contact with the floor.
The metal under his palms ran hot, bolts digging into the fabric covering his knees with the passion of burning coals. Steam clouded his vision as he shakily rose to his feet, disorientated by not only the haze of grey but the heat it brought with it.
“Tubbo?” he called out, sending a nervous glance to the heavy reinforced door and its new security feature of welded hinges. “You there, big T?”
Slightly muffled, though otherwise reassuring, Tubbo’s voice called back to him. “I’m here! Vent’s didn't kill you, then?”
“Nope, reactor’s looking like it might though,” the blonde chuckled, confidence slowly leaving him as he stared up at the hunk of metal spewing burning steam at him. “What am I doing with this again?”
“Uh, can’t really tell what the problem is from outside,” Tubbo admitted, the tiniest sliver of unease bleeding into his tone. “Just… rewire it? I’m sure we can trial and error that shit—how hard can it be?”
Very hard, apparently.
Between the searing heat of the room around him and the blatant fact he had no idea what he was fucking doing—it wasn't that easy to fix the reactor. It was like some horrible puzzle game show; except nobody bothered to explain the rules and the punishment of getting it wrong was an immediate and explosive death.
With Tubbo as the presenter he was already a little fucked—between the forgetting what parts were supposed to be called and the explanations given through vague hand gestures that he couldn't even see. Add on Ranboo as the teammate who buts in with ‘helpful’ suggestions (who also has no idea what he’s talking about and is stupid and dumb) and you’ve truly got a recipe for success here.
That wasn't even mentioning the antagonist of the entire show: the reactor itself.
Every step badly explained by Tubbo, every twist and turn, the damn thing was fighting back. The panels of sheet metal were a pain to pry off the wall—the screws holding it on a horrific concoction of boiling hot and just small enough to be annoying. It liked to spit steam into Tommy’s face every so often, as well.
Because obviously, there wasn't enough going wrong already.
It was either a blessing or just another layer to the curse when black shadows ebbed in under the door, creeping upwards until they formed a human figure again.
“Alright, what the fuck is going on in here?” Wilbur asked with a frown, shaking the last of the shadow away before striding over to Tommy.
Tommy looked up from his gremlin-esque stance as the other approached, painstakingly untangled wires clutched in his grip. “Well, I’m fixing the reactor—what’re you doing?”
“Reeling in idiots, apparently,” he sighed. “Between the makeshift research lab going on outside and you sticking your grimy paws into a nuclear core in here, someone’s gonna get us all killed.”
“We’re dying regardless—reactor’s gonna blow.”
Humming his agreement, Wilbur kneeled beside Tommy on the burning floor—peering over his shoulder and into the depths of the machine before them. “Fair. You’re dying first, though.”
“That’s just being petty, now,” the blonde mumbled, squinting suspiciously at the identical wires until he decided on two to pick out.
Luminous green eyes followed Tommy’s movements like a cat as he hesitantly cut the left wire, looking up at the reactor immediately after as if expecting it to suddenly combust. When it didn't, they relaxed—reaching for another wire under Tommy’s hand and cutting through it with his claws.
“Do you even listen when Phil tells you important safety things? ‘Cause it’s really starting to sound like you don't.”
“I do!” Tubbo called from the other side of the door—still muffled, though his enthusiasm remained untouched.
“See- Tubbo’s the smart one here. He’s on the other side of that very protective door, and we’re in here. Slowly being cooked.”
Wilbur swatted Tommy’s hand away as he reached for a wire next to the Phantom’s foot, combatting the swat he gained in return with a elbow to the other’s ribs. It was probably a bad sign that the lives of everyone on the ship were in the hands of two children, to be honest—but it wasn't as if there were better options at the moment.
“Big men don’t get cooked,” Tommy countered, rubbing his side with a slight wince. “I’ll simply sweat it out.”
Pulling a face as he looked up at Tommy—Wilbur’s attention had successfully been grabbed. “Sweat? What the fuck is sweat?”
“Oh god, you don't sweat? It’s like, uh- When I get too hot, I like… give off water? And it helps to reg-u-late my body temperature,” Tommy explained (rather well, in his humble opinion).
“You’re a freak, is what you’re saying here.”
“Oh, I’m the freak? I’ll have you know-”
They both froze as the lights shut down with a flicker, eyes slowly trailing to the freshly cut wire in Tommy’s hand. The air was tense as the room stilled to a stop—neither of them daring to even breathe while the seconds ticked on. Tommy screwed his eyes tight, supposedly under the impression that the reactor wouldn't kill him if he didn’t see it coming.
Slightly odd logic.
“Okay, okay, I think we’re fine,” Wilbur let out a breath, warily taking the wire and the shears from Tommy’s hands. “That was probably just the power.”
“...probably?”
“Hopefully,” Wilbur settled on, reaching back into the reactor to pull out another clump of tangled wires. “You’re done with cutting, though. I don’t trust your puny eyesight to not cut through my bloody foot—let alone identical wires.”
Tommy gave Wilbur—glowing lime eyes, perfect night vision and all—the side-eye, shuffling out of the way with a huff. “And I’m the freak, sure!”
That earned him one more swat to the leg—a last moment of light before the two settled into an uneasy silence. The reactor continued to whirr above them, still pumping out hot steam at an alarming rate, still looming with the threat of imminent death.
Sweat started to gather at the back of Tommy’s neck as the minutes dragged on and on—whether from the blistering heat or nerves he wasn't quite sure. His chest got tight every time the whoosh of Wilbur bringing his claws out rattled across the room, swallowing dryly whenever the wires were cut and gave off an echoing tearing sound.
By the time Wilbur started joining severed ends back together the room felt like the core of an imploding star—both the heat and the pressure. It was hard to grip the wires handed to him, his palms slippy enough that it made it quite hard to hold the ends together.
If the wall of the reactor wasn't so fucking hot he would’ve leaned his head against it. Even with his superior biology—Tommy could admit the heat was starting to get to him.
Things started to look up when the lights came back on, at least—the reactor finally, finally calming down around two seconds later.
Things also started to look down again when Tommy caught sight of Wilbur again; the now quite blinding lights illuminating his clouded eyes and laboured breaths.
Tommy surged forward after a second of shock, slapping the back of his hand (perhaps a little too hard) against the other’s flushed cheek and recoiling at the heat there. Wilbur whined when he tried to pull his hand away to get up, however—slumping forward into him until his head landed in Tommy’s lap.
“Fuck, shit, fucking- TUBBO,” Tommy cried, struggling to get a good grip on Wilbur’s arms. “Need a little help in here!”
“What? Reactor’s back up and running, bossman. You’re good.”
“No, fuck it’s-” he stumbled over his words, finally getting Wilbur under the armpits and dragging him closer to the door. “Will doesn’t sweat—he’s way too hot.”
“The hell is sweat-”
“Oh god, okay, hang on,” Tubbo rambled, scrambling around with something Tommy couldn't see for a couple seconds before the door between them shook, slight thud resonating through the room. “Okay, nope, that didn't work.”
Carefully laying Wilbur across the floor, Tommy moved to stand—kicking the door as hard as he could muster. It barely made a dent—that is to say, it didn't make a dent at all, and they were pretty much fucked.
“Heyyy Ranboo, you can teleport, right? Might be about time to break that one out, man.”
“Yeah, randomly. I’m calling it about a fifty-fifty on me ending up in the unforgiving emptiness of space,” Ranboo called back through the door, voice slightly masked by the thuds of wherever the hell Tubbo was doing.
“Well, I’m callin’ it a one-hundred percent chance of Wilbur dying right now. You’ve been out-odds’d, bitch. Get moving.”
A groan of acceptance, beat of silence, and handful of purple particles floating under the crack in the door and he was gone. Where? Anybody's guess.
“Is he with you?” Tubbo asked, temporarily halting his unknown banging. “Cause he’s not here anymore.”
Tommy stopped for a quick sweep of the room, shushing Wilbur where he stirred against his side. “No, he’s not with me.”
A nervous laugh. “Uh oh.”
Footsteps echoed down the corridor to the reactor hall, accompanied the occasional distant clatter, until Ranboo appeared back on the other side of the door.
“God- Weapons closet upstairs… a little off,” he panted. “Ran past Techno on the way back. So he’s probably.. on his way. Okay, trying that again!”
The particles appeared behind Tommy and Wilbur this time—Ranboo taking a second to recover before rushing forward with a victorious cry. With Wilbur's other arm slung around his boney shoulder (and a slight exhale at the warmth he gave off), they managed to drag him to his feet as a team.
That only presented the next challenge. Or.. it was technically the same challenge as before: the godforsaken door.
“Right Tommy, what’s the plan, dude?”
Tommy blinked, turning to look over the top of Wilbur’s head and meet Ranboo’s expectant eyes.
“I don't have a plan.”
Whatever surprise Ranboo couldn't currently show through wild hand gestures he did through his tail, thrashing against the back of his legs with an accompanying whip sound. “I’m sorry? Are you telling me I risked yeeting myself into space—never to be seen again—for absolutely no reason?”
“You what.”
A new voice (or challenger, you could probably call him based on his tone) appeared on the other side of the door. Easily recognisable—whether from the looming presence even through metal or the thick layer of disappointment in his every word.
“Techno! Will’s like- sick, or some shit. You gotta help us, man” Tommy called back through the door, shoulders slumping with relief.
“Are we just brushing past the being sent into space part?”
“Yes, I would very much appreciate that,” Ranboo nodded. “More pressing matters at hand, y’know.”
Techno sighed, and Tommy could guess he was running his hand down his face--just from experience. “Alright, alright. Stand back then.”
Awkward shuffling was only made more awkward by Wilbur’s deadweight--Ranboo sticking one leg out to kick the Phantom’s legs back and away from the door.
It was a good thing, as well. About one second after they were safely out of the way the door swung open, completely off the hinges and falling to the floor with a crash. The figure left in the doorway cast a foreboding shadow--though all his menace seemed to melt when you caught sight of the soft worried look in his red eyes.
In a second, he had closed the gap between them to gather Wilbur into his arms. In another second he had turned on his heel in the direction of the infirmary, far away from the dreaded reactor and the supernova of a room it was contained in.
Tommy had to jog to keep up with him, shaking the sweat from his arms with a grimace as he walked. “You’re welcome for saving all our lives, by the way.”
“I’m surrounded by idiots.”
Wilbur was alright, in the end.
After the ten or so showers Phil forced him to take afterwards, Tommy was fine too.