Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“TOMMY!” Techno snapped furiously. “I’m not fucking joking! Go!”

Techno was blocking the entrance, keeping zombies from completely raiding the building they were in. 

Tommy could feel his hands shaking, struggling to hold the baseball bat steady. He couldn’t just-

“Leave!” Techno growled, quickly turning around to shove Tommy back. Tommy stumbled a few steps, watching as his brother whipped back around to attack another zombie. Tommy took half a step forward. “Tommy, I’m serious. If you stay here, we’re both going to die!”

“But-” Tommy tried to argue. He wasn’t going to leave Techno to get eaten alive!

“Shut up!” he huffed; his axe swung into the skull of a zombie. “Don’t be a fucking hero, Theseus. It’s my job to-” He paused, yanking his axe out of the corpse and immediately severing a zombie’s hand that grabbed onto him. “-protect you. Go!”

Tommy choked up, looking between the hoard of zombies approaching and his brother. There were too many. Techno was one of the strongest– no, he was the strongest person Tommy knew. But even he couldn’t stop all those zombies. It was a losing battle.

“Stop standing there!” Techno shouted, dodging as a zombie tried to bite into his leg. He stomped down on their skull, scattering bits of skull and flesh over the pavement. “Run!”

“You only have to hold them off long enough for me to get away,” Tommy began to compromise. They could both get out alive! They needed to! 

“The sooner you get away, the fewer zombies I’ll have to deal with,” Techno grunted.

“Meet me at our camp,” Tommy whimpered, not even trying to hide the way his voice cracked. “Please.”

“I will,” Techno panted as he killed another zombie. “Now, GO!”

Tommy choked down a sob, turned on his heels, and ran. He hopped out a window in the back of the building. His feet smacked against the concrete loudly, but no zombies followed. They were all focused on Techno and the smell of blood.

After about a hundred feet, he looked back. That was his biggest mistake.

The hoard had backed Techno into a corner. He swung his axe with a battle cry that still haunted Tommy’s dreams. His weapon got stuck in a zombie’s skull. A corpse’s hand latched onto his extended arm.

Everything happened in slow motion.

Techno’s eyes widened. He tried to pull his arm away, but if he let go of the axe, he’d lose his only weapon. And it wouldn’t get out of that damn zombie’s skull, no matter how hard he pried.

The zombie brought its mouth down. Techno let go of the axe, but it was too late. The zombie sunk its teeth into his arm and tore away the flesh.

Tommy only caught a brief glimpse of red spilling all over before the rest of the hoard descended, obstructing his view.

♡

“Hold still,” Tommy fussed, grabbing a handful of pink hair roughly.

Techno groaned stupidly.

Tommy pulled the wire dog muzzle over Techno’s face and then tightened the straps in the back.

Techno groaned again, unhappy with the latest development (or, at least, Tommy assumed he was unhappy. Did zombies have emotions?). 

“You’re so dramatic,” Tommy sighed, letting go of Techno’s hair as soon as the muzzle was secure. 

Techno leaned forward to bite Tommy, but the small metal cage stopped him from making contact with any human skin. He didn’t give up though, pressing the muzzle insistently against Tommy’s arm.

“Oi, quit it!” Tommy scolded, whacking his brother away.

He pushed himself to his feet and took a step back to admire his solution. The muzzle wasn’t a perfect fit, but it worked. It was snug to Techno’s head, so it wouldn’t be falling off anytime soon. Tommy might’ve tightened it more than necessary, but hey, zombies kept going when they had entire limbs cut off! Surely an uncomfortably cinched leather strap wouldn’t hurt?

Techno tried to crawl forward, only to reach the end of his leash. Tommy had tied him to a lamppost so he could get the muzzle on. 

“Looks good, big man,” Tommy laughed to himself. “You look real badass.”

With his arms tied behind his back, a leash keeping him within three feet of the lamppost, and the muzzle, Techno was harmless.

Not that it mattered to Tommy. He was immune.

Lucky him, huh?

Wrong, actually. He had very strong opinions about being immune.

He discovered his “superpower” only a few hours after he left his brother to die. 

Techno and Tommy were an inseparable force. It was never just Tommy or just Techno. You couldn’t talk about one without mentioning the other. So, after Techno turned, what did Tommy have to live for? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

He headed back to where Techno’s corpse had been left behind, mutilated and missing chunks of skin. By that time, the hoard had moved on, and Tommy sat down beside his dead brother. 

It was just them… again.

It was symbolic, wasn’t it? Getting turned by his brother who only died because of Tommy’s incompetence?

Well, that plan went to shit fast.

“Fucking bullshit!” Tommy had screamed after letting himself get bit. 

Techno “woke” up, barely sunk his teeth into Tommy, shook his head with a groan, and walked away as if nothing happened.

Tommy had thought it was odd. He’d never seen a zombie behave like that. But he’d gotten bit– even if it hardly drew blood. That was enough.

Until a few minutes passed and nothing changed.

Minutes turned to hours, hours to days, days to years.

Tommy never fucking turned.

So, what was the next best thing?

Grab his brother’s walking corpse and drag him along. It was almost like everything was fine again. Techno never was the most talkative. It was always Tommy filling the silence during long journeys.

Tommy still filled those silences, but instead of the occasional snarky remark, he’d get a stupid groan. 

It took a while to figure out how to make it work. 

Tommy tried to just grab Techno’s hand and lead him. That ended in his forearm bleeding from countless scratches (all of which should’ve been fatal). 

Techno got his hands tied behind his back after that.

They continued like that for a while, until Tommy saw a dead dog on the road and had an idea. He took the dog’s collar and leash (not like it needed them), and he buckled it around Techno’s neck.

That worked significantly better. Techno would stumble along, groaning and probably dreaming of human flesh. Did zombies dream? Did zombies even sleep? Tommy never saw Techno full-on sleep. He’d nod off but never sleep.

Anyway! That was all good, except when Techno would try and bite Tommy again. For some reason, he never learned. He’d bite into whatever part of Tommy he could, only to make a disgusted face and huff bitterly.

It was moments like those that made Tommy oddly comforted. Even in death, Techno was still a pretentious bitch.

As endearing as it was, Tommy didn’t have the first aid supplies to deal with bites all the time.

Hence, the muzzle.

It was pretty close to a perfect solution.

Tommy untied Techno from the post and skipped down the empty street, dragging his dead brother along like some messed-up balloon.

They had a long journey to the next town. But thankfully, Tommy wasn’t alone. He’d never have to be alone.

♡

“And that was why I was like ‘fuck you, asshole.’ He deserved to die. Don’t you think so? I hope he tasted good. Anyways, after I killed him, I ran into his friends! They were-”

Tommy’s mouth snapped shut mid-story. He and Techno had made it to the next town. It seemed abandoned at first, but then Tommy heard human voices.

He lifted a finger to his lips, telling Techno to stay quiet. The zombie must’ve gotten the memo; he just stared at Tommy with glassy eyes.

Carefully, Tommy pulled his brother along as he followed the voices. There were two of them, both male.

Tommy could take on two people. He hoped they had some decent supplies. He could always use some more stuff. And trying to loot old buildings was more work than it was worth. It’d been years since the apocalypse began; nothing was left.

“I told you,” one complained, “This is stupid. Look at this filthy place!”

Tommy couldn’t disagree with that. Cities were the first places to fall apart. There wasn’t a single thing worth admiring nowadays.

“Come on, mate,” the second person reasoned. “If that’s what everyone thinks, then people probably haven’t thoroughly scoped it out. There’s bound to be something left somewhere.”

Tommy would’ve laughed at his optimism if he wasn’t trying to be quiet. Fucking idiot.

The first voice whined something Tommy couldn’t catch, and the second laughed in response.

“You’re fine,” the second dude chuckled. 

Tommy crept closer and poked his head around the corner of a building. Techno stayed by Tommy’s side, mindlessly bonking his forehead into Tommy’s shoulder. 

The two men were walking away from him, just strolling through the middle of the street.

The one on the left was taller by a few inches and built like a string bean. He had messy brown hair tied into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of a long brown trench coat that had seen better days.

The guy on the right had shoulder-length blonde hair tied into a half-up style. Several locks of hair stuck out in random places where they fell out of the hair tie. Techno would’ve been severely disappointed. He had a black wife-beater on and a brown coat wrapped around his waist. Tommy caught a few glimpses of tattoos on his arms. He was stupidly muscular– similar to Techno in his prime.

Trench Coat slumped over, making another displeased sound. Blondie patted his back comfortingly. Some time ago that was Techno and Tommy. 

Tommy rolled his eyes, retreating behind the building again. Blondie had a backpack that was full of supplies, hopefully.

Even if it didn’t have anything too useful, Techno would at least get something to eat. It’d been a while since he fed his brother.

“Stay here,” Tommy whispered, tying the leash around a pipe running up the side of an old building. “Don’t make any noise, okay?”

Techno stared at Tommy in response for a moment, before he immediately tried to leave, testing the leash. He couldn’t move more than a foot in each direction.

The biggest problem with cities was that they had too many hiding places. Zombies could ambush you from anywhere. However, here, that worked in Tommy’s favor.

He could sneak up on the pair a hell of a lot easier than if he were in the middle of a corn field.

Tommy silently climbed through a broken window and stalked after the pair. The building he was in appeared to be some sort of boutique at some point. It had large window displays that gave Tommy a clear view of the street. He hid under the windowsill with only his eyes peeking over.

Trench Coat didn’t seem even remotely interested in searching for supplies. Blondie kept up his impressive optimism, encouraging the string bean at his every gripe. They were disgustingly domestic, talking about the weather and their camp.

They started searching the surrounding buildings. Spoiler alert: they found nothing.

They walked into the building across the street from where Tommy was currently hiding. It was an old convenience store. Those had been the first to get looted after grocery stores.

Tommy drummed his fingers along his bat handle, trying to figure out a plan. He hoped they might’ve split up at some point, but sadly, they never did. They were dumb, but not that dumb.

Whatever. Tommy could take them.

The two left the store with nothing new. Trench Coat looked more and more discouraged with each unsuccessful stop.

Then they started to cross the street, heading in Tommy’s direction.

Fuck.

They had only been going down one side. But they chose to switch sides of the street now? What bullshit.

Tommy backed away from the window and searched for a hiding spot. The shop was pretty fucking baren. 

Before he figured something out, his world stopped.

Up until that point, the two talking in the street had been the only sound. 

And then Tommy heard Technoblade groan. 

The two in the street froze, eyes following the noise. Their lighthearted demeanor shifted into something serious. Blondie drew a knife from his waistband. Trench Coat pulled out a gun.

Tommy wasn’t letting shit happen to his brother.

Blondie started towards the alleyway where Techno was tied up. He silently signaled for Trench Coat to wait.

Tommy, however, couldn’t wait.

He rushed out the back of the forgotten shop, slamming open the emergency exit connecting to the alleyway. 

Tommy didn’t think. He knew Technoblade was in danger and nothing else.

His feet moved on their own. Without a conscious thought, he was swinging his bat into the face of Blondie who had made it a few feet away from Techno.

Too close. Far too close.

Blondie gasped but ducked under Tommy’s weapon. The bat smacked into a brick wall, bouncing off with a loud crack.

Tommy growled and attacked again, swinging the bat back at the stranger. Blondie jumped back, narrowly avoiding a metal bat to the gut.

“GET AWAY FROM HIM!” Tommy screamed, lunging at Blondie.

Back when Techno was still sentient, he’d taught Tommy how to fight. The younger boy learned from the best. He didn’t lose fights anymore.

He dropped the bat, instead balling his fist and slamming it into Blondie’s face. It collided with his jaw as Tommy drove the man back another step. 

He was still too close!

“PHIL!” Trench Coat screamed, starting to run forward. Blondie threw up a hand, halting the younger man in place.

Tommy scooped up his bat and went for Blondie’s legs. The old man was slowing down. Blondie hopped back, but Tommy still caught one of his ankles. The man went crashing to the ground, all air rushing out of his lungs when he landed flat on his back.

Before he could reinflate his lungs, Tommy jumped forward and kicked the knife out of his hand, likely fracturing a few fingers in the process. Blondie somehow found the breath to yelp.

Dropping the bat, Tommy straddled the man and wrapped his hands around his throat, digging his fingers into the man’s windpipe. Blondie’s eyes went wide, his own fingers clawing desperately at Tommy’s hands.

“STOP!” Trench Coat shouted, taking a hesitant step forward. “I’ll shoot!”

“Wil,” Blondie choked out. “Don’t-”

Trench Coat ignored the man’s dying pleas, inching closer.

That got Tommy’s attention. He abruptly let go of Blondie’s throat, but the man was nearly unconscious, eyes rolling to the back of his head. 

Blondie greedily took a gasping breath, still weak enough to not register as a threat.

Tommy left the old man on the ground.

He eyed Trench Coat skeptically. The taller man had a small handgun aimed at Tommy’s head.

His hands were shaking. Bad.

Tommy laughed as he got up. Blondie wasn’t a concern anymore. He was just squirming on the ground, struggling to breathe. Tommy had time to play with Trench Coat.

“You’ll shoot?” Tommy parroted, stepping closer to Trench Coat. The man’s breathing hitched.

He was scared.

“Leave us alone,” Trench Coat demanded with a wet voice.

Not happening.

Tommy closed the distance until he was leaning his forehead against the barrel of the gun.

“Okay,” Tommy grinned. “Make me.”

Trench Coat had dark brown eyes full of emotions Tommy recognized. Reluctance. Fear. Doubt. Confusion.

Several years ago Tommy made the same mistake. He didn’t shoot when he should’ve. The apocalypse had since taught him to be better. Somehow, Trench Coat didn’t get that harsh lesson.

Trench Coat was too naive to do what was needed.

“Go on,” Tommy encouraged. “Kill me.”

The gun shook violently against Tommy’s forehead, but Trench Coat wrapped a finger around the trigger.

“I’ll do it,” he warned hollowly.

Tommy only stared, waiting.

“I’ll do it,” Trench Coat repeated to himself more than Tommy.

His finger tightened on the trigger.

Click.

Tommy cackled, roughly grabbing Trench Coat’s wrist. It was time to end things.

“Safety’s on, dickhead.”

Trench Coat’s eyes drifted to somewhere behind Tommy. 

Before he could disarm the stranger, Tommy was yanked back by his shirt.

Tommy panicked, kicking his leg into the person behind him. An arm wrapped around his neck and constricted, forcing his throat closed.

He watched as Trench Coat stared at him in horror.

Tommy kicked and scratched desperately. He landed a few solid kicks, getting an ‘oomph!’ in response. The man didn’t let go, though. He held on despite Tommy’s attacks. 

Black dots danced around his vision.

Fucking fuck. Fuck! Fuck!

Tommy didn’t lose fights! Techno taught him better! But-

It became increasingly hard to struggle. Tommy had more fight than air in him. His arms fell to his side, unable to claw at the person holding him.

Trench Coat’s lips were moving, but Tommy only heard a sharp ringing in his ears.

Was this how he died?

What a cruel fucking world.

First, it took his family from him. And then it sentenced him to an afterlife where they couldn’t even be together. Tommy would be dead as could be; Techno would be a lost soul, forever roaming the cracked streets.

Fine. 

Tommy welcomed the darkness. 

His only regret was that he didn’t get to say goodbye to Technoblade.

Chapter Text

“Holy shit,” Wilbur panicked. “You just killed him!”

“Calm down,” Phil fussed, gently setting the limp boy on the ground. “He’s not dead, Wil.”

“He’s– you killed– I almost killed– oh my god,” Wilbur spiraled.

“Wilbur!” Phil snapped harshly. The brunette stopped and stared at his father. “He’s not dead, okay? He’s just unconscious. See? He’s still breathing.”

Wilbur drew panicked, rapid breaths, unable to look away from the unmoving boy.

“Wilbur, you need to breathe,” Phil advised. “You’re going to pass out, mate.”

Wilbur couldn’t stop. Phil just–

“With me,” Phil guided, stepping in between Wilbur and the kid. He was forced to focus on his dad’s face. “Deep breaths, okay?”

Wilbur’s hyperventilating gradually slowed to more even breaths. It took a few minutes, but Phil was patient with him.

“You okay?” Phil asked.

Wilbur nodded.

Phil stepped aside to face the unconscious boy. Wilbur’s stomach clenched at the sight, but he could see the kid’s chest slowly rising and falling.

He wasn’t dead.

He was alive.

Phil didn’t kill anyone.

He didn’t kill anymore.

They were okay.

Phil squatted down in front of the kid, brushing his blonde bangs out of the way. His hair was overgrown and in desperate need of a cut. He had a few loose braids woven into his hair, barely holding together. Poking out of his hair were ears covered in gold piercings.

But what stood out was how young he looked. His cheeks were hollow like a malnourished child would be– baby fat struggling to cling to his face without proper nutrition. His eyes were sunk in, red-ish-purple bags under them. Freckles littered his cheeks, along with scars that a teenager should never have on their face.

A few brightly colored bandages protected his cheek– some of which had dried blood that bled through them.

“Well?” Phil cleared his throat, looking up at Wilbur. 

“Well, what?” Wilbur tilted his head.

“What do you wanna do with ‘im?”

Wilbur stared blankly at Phil while the words sunk in. Why was Phil making him decide?

“What?”

Phil shrugged.

Wilbur sighed and leaned down closer to the boy.

“He’s a fighter,” Wilbur noted solemnly. Now that Phil wasn’t actively getting his ass beat, it was a little funny a child nearly took him out. Phil didn’t find it as entertaining.

After a beat of silence, Phil asked, “were you actually going to shoot him?”

“No,” Wilbur admitted. He knew the safety was on. He didn’t have the guts to stare into the boy’s eyes and shoot him. Wilbur hoped having a gun to his head would scare him off, but it didn’t. He was bluffing through and through.

Phil slowly nodded.

“Let’s take him back,” Wilbur announced suddenly. “He knows how to fight. We could use someone like him. And it’s not like we don’t have the resources to spare.”

“You sure? Taking him in would be a big responsibility,” Phil asked like a parent warning a child about getting a new pet. In a way, that was what was happening.

“Oh my god! I know!” Wilbur rolled his eyes, thinking back to the last time they had that conversation. “Are you ever going to let me live that down?”

Phil laughed, trying to cover it with a cough. 

“That was Fundy’s fault, by the way!” Wilbur added, playfully punching Phil’s shoulder. “I now know to be more careful. I don’t think he’ll break as easily, though.” Wilbur looked down at the blonde boy and smiled. “Yeah. Things have been too quiet recently.”

“Alright,” Phil said indifferently. He groaned as he pushed himself up. Wilbur considered making an old man comment, but he kept it to himself.

“Where are you going?” Wilbur asked, watching as Phil picked up his knife and walked away.

“Come here,” Phil ignored the question and made a hand gesture for Wilbur to follow. So, he got up and followed Phil to the alley the kid popped out of.

There was a pink-haired zombie tied up to the side of a building. It groaned and tugged on the chain around its neck. Was the kid keeping that thing as a pet?  

“What the fuck,” Wilbur muttered.

Phil crept closer. Wilbur would’ve protested, but the zombie had a muzzle on its face. It couldn’t bite Phil, no matter how badly it wanted to.

Phil tightened his hold on the knife and lifted it to the creature's head, planting the tip of the knife on its forehead.

The kid was willing to kill both of them to protect that thing.

“Wait!” Wilbur shouted before he could think twice. Phil stopped, head snapping over to his son. “Keep it alive!”

“It’s already dead, Wilbur.”

Wilbur groaned. “You know what I mean. We can use it.”

Phil tilted his head, ignoring the zombie drooling over being so close to humans.

“The kid cares about this thing for some reason,” Wilbur thought aloud. “He almost killed you for getting too close. I don’t understand it, but he has some weird attachment to it. Imagine he wakes up back at camp without his emotional support zombie, or whatever.”

Phil lowered the knife, glancing back at the zombie with a newfound realization.

“It’s leverage,” Wilbur whispered. “We can force him to stay and fight for us.”

A beat of silence.

“You’re walking this thing back,” Phil sighed, untying the leash and shoving it into Wilbur’s hand.

♡

Tommy was warm. That in itself wasn’t too odd. It was towards the end of summer, so Tommy was rarely cold. But it wasn’t a humid type of warm. 

No, it was a cozy, just the right type of warm. Like drinking hot cocoa and sitting in front of a fire in the winter kind of warm. Like going to sleep after spending the day out with your closest friends type of warm.

And after losing Techno, Tommy didn’t have any days like that. Tommy didn’t get to sleep all warm and cozy, tucked under furry blankets. So, he knew something was wrong.

Tommy forced his heavy eyelids open and sighed. The room wasn’t painfully bright, thankfully. 

Tommy was lying on a twin-sized bed in the middle of a bedroom. There were a few paintings on the walls, a desk in the corner, a half-full bookshelf, and nightstands on either side of the bed.

There were no windows.

There was only one door, straight across from the bed, which didn’t appear to have a lock on the inside.

Tommy groaned and scratched at his neck. It ached upon contact. Something weighed down his wrists, but that was quickly neglected when the memories came back.

Right. That fucking happened.

Tommy’s annoyed inconvenienced mood quickly dropped into a panic.

Techno.

Where was Technoblade?

He didn’t have any weapons on him either. His coat and backpack were gone. He pulled the blanket off his feet to see if he had shoes, but he was met with something worse.

(And if you’re oh so curious, his shoes were gone too)

When Tommy shifted the blanket, something metal clinked together. Upon getting his foot free of the offending blanket, Tommy realized why: on each foot, he had a shackle with a chain keeping him in place.

Tommy panicked, trying to reach his foot to investigate.

His arms abruptly stopped to the sound of more metal scraping against itself.

Not only were Tommy’s feet held in place but so were his arms. He had about two feet of wiggle room on each limb which wasn’t very much. Tommy could barely clap his hands together, and he couldn’t get even close to grabbing his foot.

The panic fully set in.

Tommy had nothing.

Tommy couldn’t do anything.

Tommy lost his weapons.

Tommy didn’t know where he was.

Tommy couldn’t even fucking stand up.

Tommy had no clue where Technoblade was (or if he was even alive. He didn’t want to think about that).

Tommy wrapped the chain around one of his wrists so he could get a better hold on it, and he pulled as hard as he could. It didn’t budge an inch. Tommy traced the chain to the source and, ah. That’s why. It was bolted into the cement wall.

No matter what he tried, he was stuck. No human could get out.

Still, in the moment, Tommy wasn’t thinking clearly. He tried again and again, yanking on each respective limb.

Maybe he could dislocate his thumb and free a hand?

The cuff was tight against Tommy’s skin. It wasn’t giving him anything to work with.

Same with his ankles. They weren’t going anywhere. 

Tommy could reach the bedside tables, but they didn’t have anything on top of them or in them. It was like the people who kidnapped him knew what they were doing.

Blondie and Trench Coat.

Oh, Tommy was going to fucking kill them and drag it out.

For the next few minutes, Tommy tried every possible escape method he could think of. The blankets were kicked across the room, well out of Tommy’s reach if he wanted them again. Pillows were thrown against the wall or screamed into. His wrists and ankles were rubbed raw from the struggle.

Defeated, Tommy panted heavily, trying to figure out a plan.

Techno would’ve known what to do.

Techno never would’ve gotten into the situation, to begin with. 

FUCK!

Why couldn’t Techno still be around?

Tommy needed his brother.

Just when he thought things couldn’t get any worse, the cell door opened. In walked Blondie and Trench Coat.

Tommy immediately started screaming obscenities and threats. His throat protested, but he did not care.

“I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD I AM GOING TO TEAR YOUR GODDAMN THROAT OUT AND-”

“Mate, calm down-”

“-FEED IT TO SOME FUCKING ZOMBIES-”

“-I think you’re overreacting a little-”

“-I AM GOING TO MAKE YOUR DEATH AS PAINFUL AS POSSIBLE-”

“-can you please just take a deep breath-”

“-YOU WON’T BE ABLE TO RECOGNIZE EACH OTHER-”

“-kid, you’re going to hurt yourself-”

“-IN WHATEVER LIMBO YOU ROT IN AFTER DEATH-”

“-please, just calm down for a second-”

“-I SHOULD’VE KILLED YOU WHEN I HAD THE CHANCE-”

“Phil, I don’t think he’s listening.”

“Really? I didn’t notice.”

“-I’M NOT MAKING THE SAME MISTAKE-”

“Hey, I’m just saying.”

“-WHEN I GET OUT OF HERE-”

“Can you go get an anesthetic-”

“-I WON’T FUCKING HESITATE-”

“Yeah, already on it.”

“-YOU BETTER PRAY I MAKE IT QUICK-”

“Kid, come on-”

“-LETTING THE ZOMBIES EAT YOU ALIVE WOULD BE TOO MERCIFUL-”

“Right.”

“-I’LL GUT YOU ALIVE AND FEED TECHNO YOUR BITS-”

“Techno?”

“-AND MAKE YOUR FRIEND WATCH-”

“Who’s Techno?”

“-AND THEN I’LL BURN HIM ALIVE-”

“He’s not a witch?”

“-AND IT’LL BE MUSIC TO MY EARS-”

“Oh, thank god, you’re back.”

“I see he’s still going.”

“-LISTENING TO YOU SCREAM AND BEG FOR MERCY-”

“Wil, hold him down, please.”

“DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME! LET GO! STOP! DON’T– I’LL FUCKING– GET AWAY FROM ME!”

Trench Coat roughly held Tommy’s flailing limbs down, forcing his chin up. Blondie jabbed something into his neck abruptly.

The world started spinning immediately.

Trench Coat and Blondie stepped away, watching Tommy. However, he couldn’t care less about them.

The ceiling was moving, and it sort of looked like stars.

Tommy always liked the stars. Techno taught him a lot of constellations.

Techno taught him everything. 

Tommy missed Techno.

Why wasn’t he– where was Techno? Tommy wanted Techno. He gave good hugs.

“Mate?” someone asked, though they sounded far away.

Techno?

“No, I’m Phil,” the voice corrected. Tommy hadn’t realized he voiced his thoughts aloud.

“‘il,” Tommy tried to repeat, butchering the man’s name horribly. Talking was a lot of work. Tommy just wanted to watch the stars. The stars were pretty.

“And I’m Wilbur.”

There was a second person! Was Techno there too?

“‘echno?”

“Who?” the higher voice asked. Wilbur. What a weird name.

“Wilba,” Tommy tested it out, giggling at the way it sounded on his tongue. “Wilba! Wilba! Wilba!”

The two people cooed, muttering in that voice you talk to pets or babies in.

Someone tried to mess with his hair. Only Techno could do his hair. Tommy whined angrily, bating the hand away.

For fucks sake, where was Techno? Why were these people babying him?

“Hey, mate,” Phil began softly. “Can you tell us your name?”

“T-om-my,” he hiccuped. 

Wilbur cooed again.

“That’s a good name,” Phil added unhelpfully. Of course it was a good name. Techno picked it out. Actually, he picked Theseus, but Tommy was their compromise.

“Do you have a group, Tommy?” 

“Te-no!” Tommy cheered excitedly. He knew the answer to that one. “Brother.”

Phil made a weird sound. “Do you have any other family?”

“Me ‘n’ Tech.” And that was all he needed.

“Right,” Phil hummed with some weird voice. Tommy didn’t like that voice. He liked Techno’s voice.

Techno would sometimes retell stories when Tommy couldn’t sleep. That was his favorite voice. Techno wasn’t all broody or sarcastic during those stories. It was nice. Tommy wanted just one more story.

Where was Techno? Tommy didn’t want to listen to Phil and Wilbur. He wanted Techno.

“Hey, hey, you with us?” Phil asked distantly. Had Tommy missed something? Tommy wiggled his head in a general nod shape.

“Smaller dosage next time, Wil.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. I probably should’ve accounted for him being so small.”

Tommy grunted at that. He wasn’t small! He was a big man! Techno told him so.

“Sorry, mate,” Phil cooed softly. A hand came up to his hair. Again, Tommy whined and smacked it away. “You’re cute like this, I have to say.”

Tommy wasn’t cute! Nor was he small! These people were mean.

“All soft and defenseless, hm?”

Tommy whined needily, hoping Techno would swoop in and rescue him. He didn’t.

“Tommy?” Wilbur called out, putting an end to Phil’s babying. “That zombie you were with-”

Tommy gasped suddenly. He tried to sit up, but he got halfway before his body gave up. “Techno! TECHNO!”

Wilbur knew Techno! Where was he?!

“Where?!” Tommy demanded. “Techno! Where?”

Phil and Wilbur both chuckled. 

“You were right,” Phil chuckled. “Good call.”

“Thank you,” Wilbur beamed. “I’m kind of a genius.”

Tommy didn’t know what they were talking about, nor did he care. They can’t just mention Techno and move on!

“Technoooo!” Tommy wailed, feeling particularly childish. “Want Techno.”

“Techno’s around,” Wilbur answered. “You can see him later.”

No! Tommy wanted to see Techno NOW!

“So, Techno’s your brother?” Phil wanted to confirm. Tommy nodded vigorously. “What about your parents?”

“Techno!” Tommy huffed. Why weren’t they letting him see Techno?!

“What about him? Did he do something to your parents?”

Tommy groaned. They didn’t understand! 

“Techno,” Tommy growled demandingly. “Technoblade!”

“Yes, we know!” Wilbur groaned. 

No! They didn’t.

“‘echno,” Tommy whined quietly. His throat hurt.

“How long have you been with Techno?” Phil asked.

“Forever,” Tommy slurred. He couldn’t remember a day without his brother by his side. He was kind of the best brother a person could ask for. 

“Okay,” Phil hummed. There were some footsteps and shuffling to the right of Tommy. His head was too heavy. He couldn’t look over and investigate. “You picked a difficult one, mate. You still sure you want him?”

“Um, yes,” Wilbur said through a laugh. Was there a joke Tommy missed? He liked jokes. Techno had a really good sense of humor. “He’s interesting. We’ve never met a survivor like him.”

A cold hand landed on his arm, pushing his sleeve up. Tommy quietly whined and tried to move away. He couldn’t lift a muscle.

“Dad,” Wilbur gasped urgently. “Dad, look.”

Another hand landed on his arm and softly traced over his skin. It sent chills down his spine. He didn’t enjoy their poking and prodding.

“He was bit,” Wilbur whispered like it was some big secret.

“No,” Tommy grumbled sleepily. “Immune.”

One of the hands on his arm wrapped around the limb, lifting it up.

“Is that possible?” Wilbur asked desperately. 

“It’s old,” Phil mused. “The infection might be taking over slowly. I wouldn’t get too attached.”

“But-”

“We should’ve checked him for injuries before bringing him in,” Phil grumbled.

The arm around Tommy’s arm let go and let it fall back to the bed.

Tommy yawned.

“Dad? What are you doing?” Wilbur asked. He sounded scared. 

“I’m not going to kill him. I’m just cutting his shirt off so we can see if he’s a lost cause.”

What were they talking about? Tommy tried to keep up, but his head was so fuzzy. He really wanted Techno.

Something metal pressed up against his stomach, immediately succeeded by the sound of fabric ripping. Tommy was cold all of the sudden. He wanted the blankets back.

Above him, Wilbur and Phil gasped in unison. It was silent for a second, and then hands were poking at his torso.

“Stop,” he moaned sleepily. 

His pleas went unheard.

“Look,” Wilbur gawked, running his fingers over a scar on Tommy’s stomach. “That was a bite. It scared over.”

“He’s got another one here,” Phil mused, pressing two fingers into Tommy’s ribs. 

“Dad!” Wilbur laughed maniacally. “He’s immune! Holy shit. He’s actually immune. Do you know what this means?”

Tommy tried to wiggle away from the touch, but he couldn’t get further than a few inches.

A hand suddenly cupped Tommy’s face rather aggressively.

“And you’re mine,” Wilbur exhaled. “All mine. Isn’t that right? You’re going to get us far, Tommy. And here I was thinking you could fight for us. We’re gonna have to keep you locked up tight, won’t we? People are gonna be lining up trying to get their hands on you.”

What? Tommy didn’t understand.

Where was Techno? Tommy wanted Techno right fucking now. He didn’t like whatever was happening. 

“Don’t worry. We won’t let that happen. You’re mine. I promise I take care of my things. You’re in good hands, Toms.”

Somehow, Tommy didn’t think he was.