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Tommy is running.
He’s not entirely sure he’ll be welcome where he’s going, but he has to see, to confirm it with his own eyes.
A week ago (in overworld time, not limbo time), he was dead. He was sitting in limbo, listening to Wilbur monologue about Prime knows what. Despite the terrifying, inky blackness and the manic tinge to Wilbur’s voice, he felt peaceful.
His peace was interrupted when his brother’s voice very abruptly cut out in the middle of his sentence. Tommy called out to him, but there was nothing. He sat alone for a month, confused, until he was suddenly sitting back in that stupid fucking prison cell with Dream.
Dream gloated and gloated, claiming he was a god for reviving not one, but two people. When Tommy asked what he meant, Dream had cackled in joy.
“Well, I couldn’t bring my favorite puppet back without bringing my vassal back too, could I?”
And, well, Tommy was in a near catatonic state for the entirety of the week he was still stuck. He couldn’t even begin to comprehend what was happening outside of the prison, if Wilbur had turned over a new leaf or gone back to his old ways.
Sam, the fucker, finally gets him out. Nobody waits outside of the prison for him. They all still think he’s dead.
So, he runs.
Tommy runs to Techno and Phil’s house, where Wilbur hopefully is. He doesn’t even care if Techno and Phil want to kill him for his betrayal, he just has to make sure Wilbur is okay and not blowing shit up.
The snow on the ground easily soaks through his beat up sneakers, which only fuels his need to run faster, get there quicker. He’s shivering harshly and stumbling over rocks hidden in the snow, but he can’t give up. He has to get there.
By the time he finally sees the cabin in the distance, he nearly sobs when he realizes all of the lights are on and the chimney is steadily pumping smoke. That means somebody is home, somebody can help him.
(Because he might want to find Wilbur first and foremost, but Tommy also desperately yearns for somebody to care about him, too.)
Tommy feels like he’s dead (ha) on his feet as he climbs up the porch steps. Weakly, he knocks, lungs heaving as adrenaline leaves his system in a single moment. He slumps against one of the wooden posts, exhaustion and everything else that happened in the last few weeks – months, finally catching up to him.
When he glances up, he finds that all of the lights inside have been shut off, and the inside of the house has gone completely silent. Carl whinnies and nudges Tommy’s head like the horse is concerned for the boy’s health. (He should be, Tommy doesn’t think he’ll last much longer out here.)
Tommy coughs feebly into his elbow, hating everything about the current situation he’s in. Against his wishes, he knows he has to call out to someone, because maybe they don’t know he’s here! Maybe they didn’t hear him knock! Surely they wouldn’t leave him out here to die on purpose, right?
The boy clears his throat, hating the way it feels like sandpaper, then yells, “Tech? Phil?”
He waits for a few agonizing seconds, fleeting consciousness fading with every breath he takes. Then, suddenly, the door swings open, revealing not Phil or Techno, but Wilbur.
Tommy can do no more than bare his teeth in an imitation of a relieved smile before his body is fully sapped of energy and his head thunks back on the post. He passes out.
-
Consciousness escapes his grasp like a wet fish.
Every time he thinks he finally has a good grip, it somehow slips away.
Sometimes, he hears voices. Familiar voices. They talk to each other or to him, but he can never find it in himself to respond. He also can’t really find himself in himself.
He doesn’t remember his name, how he ended up here, his friends, family; nothing. He knows he doesn’t particularly like the darkness he’s in, but again, no clue why.
It’s a little frustrating. A lot frustrating, actually.
He just wants to remember who he is, who the people around him are. He wants to wake up.
So, he does.
He wakes to moonlight on his face. The curtain of the (his? [Who is he?]) room has been left open just enough to allow for a sliver of light to hit his eyes. He smacks his lips, frowning at the unpleasant dryness in his throat.
The boy turns his head toward the bedside table and finds a full glass of water, presumably left by one of the people that have been watching over him. He grabs it with an unsteady hand and chugs the entire thing.
Once his throat no longer feels like a desert, he realizes that he’s way too warm. There are at least ten different blankets piled on top of him for some reason, so he kicks off most of them.
When he’s finally comfortable, he rolls over onto his side, snuggles into the few blankets he left, and falls asleep.
The next time he wakes, it is to the sound of voices. Two people are standing in the room with him, frantically arguing back and forth.
“He had to have woken up, the water is empty and the blankets are knocked off!”
The boy keeps his eyes and shut and stays completely still to avoid detection, because they are definitely talking about him.
“Okay, I understand that. I'm just saying we can't expect him to want to talk to any of us!”
“Phil, Tommy showed up at our door. He has to talk to us.”
“Wilbur. This is probably the only place he could think to run to.”
“I don't care. I'm waking him up!”
A hand reaches out and roughly shakes his shoulder. He pretends to wake up, blinking slowly and rubbing his eyes.
The boy sits up, effectively shaking the hand off his shoulder. The two people in the room startle as he moves, both backing up immediately to give him room.
The brunet man launches into a grand speech, “Oh, Tommy! We're so glad you're awake! We've been so worried about you! You've been asleep for days! I mean, when you showed up we were so worried but then you wouldn’t wake up, so I was just-”
The boy, Tommy (?), cuts him off. “Listen. I don't remember who you are, where I am, or who I am. Answer that first.”
Wilbur’s (at least, that's what he thinks his name is) face falls. His almost relieved smile drops into a pained, gutted gape. “I- What are you talking about? Of course you remember. Why- Why are you lying?”
The other man, Phil, he believes, steps forward. “Wilbur, how about you go downstairs and calm down. I'll stay here and answer any questions he has. Okay?”
Wilbur’s eyes flick frantically between the two, chest heaving slightly as he silently weighs his options. Finally, he nods stiffly, and rushes out the door.
The boy turns his gaze toward the blond man. “What's my name?”
“Tommy.” He answers, and he sounds so sure. Like he knows for a fact that's who he is, who he's always been.
“Okay. What's your name?”
“Phil. And he’s Wilbur, but I'm sure you figured that out already.”
Tommy (the name is starting to settle in his mind) nods, glancing back at the door. Now he knows who both of them are, but he swears there was another voice. A deeper one, and when he thinks about it hard enough, he can vaguely remember flashes of the color pink. “And the other one? The.. uh, pink?”
Phil’s face falls in surprise. “You remember him?”
“I know I heard his voice. And I can kinda remember that the color correlates to him. That's it.”
“That's a start, at least! That's Techno, he owns the place. And he's got pink hair, that's probably what you remember.”
Pink hair, yeah. And tusks, a cape, maybe a crown? “So how did I get here?”
The man’s lips quirk. “We were hoping you'd be able to tell us. One moment we were having a quiet night in, then we heard a knock on the front door. Honestly, we thought you might have been an intruder or enemy, but then you called out to us. Wil found you on the porch.”
“Oh. Sorry.” Because honestly he can't think of anything else to say.
“No worries, mate. We're glad you're safe more than anything.”
Something in him coils happily about being cared about. Something else in him hisses about the hypocrisy of it.
When he thinks about it more, he can feel a boat-load of hurt and anger. Flashes of explosions accompany it, along with the red-hot sensation of burning. Regret, betrayal. Feelings with barely any memories to go along with them.
Tommy turns away from Phil, because the constant smile is starting to freak him out. The man claps and stands. “Well, I’m gonna go get started on lunch. I’ll bring it up for you!” Phil steps out and closes the door behind him, leaving Tommy alone.
While he’s by himself, he tries to make sense of the foggy memories swarming his brain. He can remember the explosions, of course. A lot of them, actually. From different times. When he thinks about the smallest ones, he recalls a terrible loneliness.
With the loneliness, he can almost remember Wilbur. Well, kinda Wilbur? They looked like Wilbur, but they were gray. And their voice was echoey.
There’s also another person in these memories. Tommy can remember green, explosions, sharp blows, and complete despair.
Suddenly, a name surfaces.
Dream.
With it, he remembers his disks, the wars, exile. Nothing really specific, but he knows the broad strokes. The disks are important to him. A few wars here and there. His best friend kicked him out.
And Dream.
Tommy is pulled out of his thoughts when the door to his room opens again. Wilbur walks in, faint tear tracks on his cheeks.
“You really don’t remember me?”
“I think I’m starting to remember some things.”
The man perks up, eyes shining. “Really!? Like what?”
Tommy knows he is not about to give an answer that Wilbur will like. “Uh, like, exile. And war.”
“Oh, our exile?” Wilbur asks, tilting his head. “Pogtopia?”
“I don’t think so? It was on the.. the island. Beach.”
The brunet laughs. “No, that was a vacation. I’m sure of it.”
Tommy shakes his head. “No. That short ram guy kicked me out. Dream was there. You were gray. I think.”
“Dream? Dream saved us, Tommy, he brought us back.”
“Back?”
“From limbo! From death! We would still be stuck in that train station if it weren’t for Dream!”
That does not sound right at all.
“I died?”
Wilbur laughs. “So did I! But Dream brought us back!”
No way. No way. That’s not.. That’s not right. It literally physically hurts to hear.
His head hurts.
Hurts like it’s caving in, like he’s being beat over, and over, and over.
And he remembers.
“Wilbur, Dream fucking killed me! He beat me to death in that prison! That’s what I was running from. But I guess maybe I shouldn’t have, considering he’s your fucking hero!”
His brother startles back at the outburst, brows furrowed as he frowns. There’s no regret, however. Not like Tommy ever expected it from him.
“I’m leaving.” Tommy throws all of the blankets on the floor, swings his legs over the side, and races down the stairs. Nobody stops him on his way out, mostly because Phil is in the kitchen, Wilbur is still in the room he left, and Techno is out somewhere. Probably blowing something up.
The heavy chill of the snow is a terrible contrast to the fire-driven warmth of the cabin. It’s almost enough to make him want to turn back. But he’s made his choice, he can’t stay.
He heads back toward where he remembers the portal being, ignoring the way he can almost feel his body shutting down.
Tommy is so focused on getting there as fast as possible that he doesn’t notice the fast approaching footsteps of a familiar horse. Carl runs ahead and rounds in front of him, blocking him from the portal.
The boy pauses as the horse deliberately stops him from leaving. Like he knows that Tommy wouldn’t be able to survive on his own. Like he’s waiting for his owner to come back.
“Y’know, I expected at least some gratitude for saving your life.”
Tommy whirls around to face the man behind him. Technoblade, of course.
The blond grits, “Thanks. I’m leaving.”
“No-!” Techno borderline yells. “I mean, It’s probably not smart to go to the nether right now. You’re still sick, and the tundra is cold, the nether is hot… Do I need to go on?”
Tommy stares at the piglin, then glares at him, then scowls. “I don’t want to go back with you.”
Techno sighs and waves his hands around like he doesn’t know what to say. The great Blood God, speechless. “Listen, Tommy. I was.. I was scared when you showed up on my porch. I thought you were dead. Before that, both Ranboo and Wilbur told me you were already dead, but I couldn’t believe it. I mean, there was no body. But then you showed up here, and it was real.”
“Where are you going with this?”
“I lost you once. Then I almost lost you again. I can’t lose you another time.”
Tommy is actually really touched. It’s a nice sentiment, and probably the most he’s ever heard Techno say in one sitting. “As long as you give me your cape.”
The piglin laughs. “Alright, Theseus. Let’s go home.”
-
Later, Wilbur will apologize. He will explain that he had no clue, how if he had known, he would have never–
It’s nice.
Techno will also apologize for being distant. He had known that Tommy was struggling after exile, but he was too focused on getting revenge against the butcher army to actually realize it.
Tommy will choke out exactly what happened during exile, including Dream’s treatment of him. His family will be pissed and vow to murder his abuser.
And Tommy will feel alive.