Chapter Text
An ill wind was blowing through Las Nevadas...he should have taken it as an omen, but as the pungent, musty aroma was most unpleasantly familiar, he took it only as a harbinger of the man who stepped into his path...again...a persistent obstacle to him moving on...
A persistent reminder of things he'd lost, things that had been taken from him...and things that had never been his, in the first place.
"What the fuck do you want, Wilbur?" Quackity glared at him, his damaged lips twisting into an expression of disdain that he knew looked like an evil sneer, because of his injuries...injuries dealt by Wilbur's family, blood or not.
Wilbur stared at him...no...truly contemplated him, perhaps for the first time since he'd returned. He was thin, but as well built beneath his suit - why the bloody hell hadn't he at least given up the suit, the full-body replacement for a collar Schlatt had forced onto everyone in Manberg - as his pristine, gleaming city, built up from the sands he's placed himself, one grain at a time. Gone the soft edges of youth, he finally had the air of a leader...but also the sorrow of one, indelibly etched into his flesh: going from Schlatt's pet to Dream's tormentor had clearly been anything but an easy journey, for him...its most obvious physical sign impossible for him to hide. While it marred Quackity's beauty superficially, he wore the scar that ran the length of one side of his face - showing off teeth both missing and not; putting a streak of white in his midnight dark hair, uncomfortably close to the one in Tommy's, though far more obvious against black instead of golden blonde...completely obliterating one of his once warm, chocolate hued eyes... - like a badge of honor, proof that he'd survived...even thrived, despite everyone else...despite...him...
Quackity's patience was clearly at an end, the sneer becoming a full scowl, his halved eyebrow raising as much as it was still able, under Wilbur's scrutiny. "I thought I made it clear that you weren't supposed to set foot in Las Nevadas..." He walked around him, his footsteps purposely loud against the asphalt, as he turned to stand between Wilbur-freaking-Soot, destroyer of cities, and the rest of Las Nevadas...his city...his home...
When Wilbur turned to face him again, his missing eye bored into him even more than the good one that remained, sparking and smouldering with hatred... He sighed. "Quackity...this is the last time. I promise I won't darken your desert sand with my shadow, again..."
"What's the catch? What's your angle, this time?" Quackity's arms crossed over his chest.
"What..." He blinked, at the cavalier dismissal at his attempt to wax poetic.
"Last time you demanded my attention, you were trying to kill my horse in front of me, and ended up killing Ranboo. And the last time you made an impassioned speech, near a city..." He motioned towards L'Manberg's crater. "...you tried to take everything with you..." There was a very slight tremor to his voice...was it fear?
"This time, I'm only taking the clothes on my back." Wilbur blurted.
Quackity's eyes widened. "What..." If it was possible, he looked even more incensed.
"I'm leaving, Quackity...going back where I came from, so this place...so you...can be done with me...but..."
"Done with you...you're...leaving? Just leaving?" He finally spluttered, his hands balling into shaking fists.
"After I say my farewells...and...try to make amends..."
"Amends...so...you're just...saying you're sorry, then running away? Leaving me again?!" Flushing first with anger, he managed crimson, as he realized what he'd said. "Leaving...us again...what about Fundy? He just got you back..."
"That's not what you said first..." He permitted himself a brief smile...a genuine if uncertain one, instead of his normal sardonic smirk...but it quickly faded, as he wrapped his arms around himself as if he was in his father's front yard, instead of Quackity's. "...Fundy...doesn't want to see me again...he's made that...quite clear." His own voice caught painfully in his chest.
"He...what?" Quackity shook his head, holding up a hand. "Wait...is this...some sort of attempt, to play on my emotions...because using your son is...low, even for you..."
"He jumped, Quackity." Wilbur sighed, sitting cross legged on the pavement...in the middle of the street...
...leaving Quackity staring down at him, his anger turning very quickly to concern. "He what?"
"I tried...I tried to make things up to him...when bloody Eret tricked me, into it...another betrayal..." He sighed, placing his head in his hands. "...but one that I both deserved, and needed, I suppose...at least I know he won't be missing me, again...it...it does...make leaving easier, knowing that he wants me gone..."
Quackity blinked, still staring down at the same man who'd literally placed himself on a pedestal, the first time he'd intruded back into his life...now at his feet, looking like a broken effigy of himself. "That...can't be right...you're his father..."
When Wilbur looked up, tears were running down his face, making tracks in the dust. "Yes, well...my father killed me, that day, because I asked him to...because...you're right...I was running away...the same way that Fundy ran away from me...except he's stronger...so much stronger...he at least did it himself..."
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Quackity reached for his communicator, but hesitated - who the hell could he even call, for this? What even was this?
"He jumped, Quackity...my son...jumped, into the ruins of the city where I gave birth to him, one more thing I've destroyed, because he...he'd rather die, than spend another moment with me." Wilbur's head bowed, again. "So...I'm leaving..." This time, the brief smile was bitter. "I'm going home...leaving him to his...and you to yours...I won't trouble you, again." He froze, as Quackity's hand appeared, in his downcast view.
"Come with me, Wilbur...I don't think...this is the place, to be having this conversation." His voice had lost it's anger, replaced with...fatigue, perhaps?
"What..." He found himself reaching for Quackity's hand...but stopped, just as their fingertips touched.
"You said you wanted to make amends..." Quackity's voice went from carefully calm and neutral, to mildly hopeful.
"Is that why..." Wilbur nodded, taking his hand: slowly raising his eyes to meet Quackity's, he pressed shaking lips to his fingers. "I am sorry, Quackity...for all that I've done..."
Quackity's fingers wrapped around his wrist. "I said: not here." Carefully pulling Wilbur to his feet, he dragged him quickly into the casino, and from there, his office. "Sit." He motioned to one of the chairs in front of his desk...as he surreptitiously locked the door, and carefully pocketed the key.
Wilbur perched on the edge of the seat, as if afraid to damage it. "Are you sure you don't want me on my knees?"
"Now you're just being dramatic." Quackity retrieved a bottle, and two glasses.
"I'll try to bottle it up, if you prefer...I came to apologize to you..."
Quackity poured two very stiff drinks, handing one to Wilbur. "First off...let's start with: are you serious, about Fundy?" He perched on the edge of his desk, instead of behind it, keeping himself within arm's length of his guest.
Wilbur stared into his glass for all of a second, then downed it in a single gulp, before nodding, and staring into the empty vessel as if willing it to refill.
"Sheesh..." Quackity breathed, under his breath, setting his own glass aside, to refill Wilbur's. "So...he really jumped?"
Wilbur's shoulders started to shake: it was his voice that betrayed the soft sobs for what they were. "Tommy begged Dream not to bring me back...Ranboo was absolutely right, to be worried, when he discovered I was back...I cost him his life...but Fundy...my own flesh and blood...he took his own life, just to get away from me..."
"And you said...Eret told you, to go talk to him?" Pulling out his communicator, he began tapping at it, as if checking messages.
"I was trying to find Niki...Eret sent me to Fundy, instead..." Wilbur drained his glass again.
"What the fuck, Eret..." Quackity took a long draught from his own drink, before tapping some more.
"No...they meant well..." He drained his glass, again. "I thought...I thought things were going well...but apparently...he endured as much as he could, then...decided that another minute in my presence was a fate worse than death...so I'm leaving, so he never has to see me again."
"Leaving for where?" Quackity paused for a moment, before refilling his glass, again.
"I'm going back home." He smiled, slightly. "There's no one left there I care about, for me to damage, with my presence."
"As opposed to the people you'll damage, with your absence?" He took another drink, refilling it despite it not being empty yet.
"Aren't you listening - Fundy killed himself, over me..."
"What about Tommy, then?"
"Tommy's better off, without me, and we both know it. You can move him into Las Nevadas...in fact...I'd consider it a personal favor, even if I've no right to ask you, for anything."
"Of course I'll take him in...if he wants to come live here...I already made that offer to him, remember?" He sighed. "You took care of me, in Pogtopia...it's the least I can do, especially if you're leaving him, again."
"I'm not leaving him, I'm freeing him from my presence. For his own safety."
"You're leaving him."
A ghost of Wilbur's normal smirk gave Quackity the time he needed to steel himself for Wilbur's next words. "Earlier, you said I was leaving you..."
Crimson faced, Quackity finished his drink this time, before refilling it. "I thought you were here to apologize, not fucking start shit with me, again."
"I am, but...exactly what all do I need to apologize for? It would seem that I don't even know the full impact of my own actions..."
Eret pored over the newest tomes in the museum's collection, trying to glean what useful notes could be taken from the rambling scribbles: even contained, the Egg was still a threat...enough so, that she jumped when her communicator buzzed, breaking the studious silence. "What on earth...?" Staring at the screen, here eyes widened until their glow threatened to obscure the text message on the screen with reflected glare. "Quackity?!"
[Wilbur is in my office, talking about leaving the SMP. Did he really say the same thing, to you?]
She sighed, shaking her head as she responded. [Yes...he came by to apologize, say he was leaving, and give me a book.]
[What book?]
Glancing towards the chest in which she'd placed it, to minimize temptation - her own, and her ferrets' - she sighed. [I don't know - he's asked me not to open it, for a bit.]
[Okayyy...did you really send him to talk to Fundy?]
Her brows knit. [Of course...they needed to mend their relationship, before he goes. Fundy deserves that.] What the hell was going on, in Las Nevadas?
[Eret...you need to go check on Fundy. Now.]
With a sigh, she marked her place in Sam Bucket's journal, and began placing the books back in the bookcase - obviously, there was something more urgent happening, which needed her immediate attention. [What's happened?]
[Wilbur is claiming that he jumped into L'Manhole.]
Eret nearly dropped the communicator. [What??? He could have been badly injured...] She froze, as she realized what Fundy's questions might have stemmed from, the last time they spoke.
[That was apparently the point...please go check on Fundy: I can't leave Wilbur alone like this, and apparently, Fundy jumped to get away from him, so...]
"What...!" [I'll go check on him.] She'd sent Wilbur to him...if Fundy had really jumped, just because of Wilbur's presence...was it her fault?
[Thanks.]
Eret barely paused long enough to retrieve her armor, and one other thing, before running out of the museum.
Foolish was about to raise his fist to knock on the office door, when he heard Quackity's slightly raised voice coming from inside: pausing, he leaned down to listen, before interrupting.
"You never consider the full consequences of you actions, Wilbur..."
"That's why I'm trying to apologize."
"You're supposed to consider the impact of your actions before you make them."
"Sometimes it's easier to apologize, than to ask for permission."
"When have you ever asked for permission, to find out?!"
"So should I not apologize?"
"Oh, you should absolutely apologize, asshole..."
"I'm trying to! How...how did this go so much easier, with Eret, than anyone else?"
"Eret's been trying to apologize ever since the final control room, Wilbur..." He sighed. "Should I ask, what's in the book you gave her? Before she reads it?"
"If I was going to say anything angry to her, I'd say it to her face...I just...want to leave her with something tangible, because you're right, she's...she's been beating herself up for that, ever since...when she truly thought it would end...all of this..." He chuckled. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, that you care more about her - after all, her betrayal delivered Manberg firmly to Schlatt...and you..."
"Do you really think that's how I wanted to win?" Quackity's voice was sad, and a little angry...but not out of control...yet... "Wilbur...you saw...what he did to me...when I ran away from him...when I sided with you..."
"I'm sorry, Quackity..." Wilbur's voice was suddenly worried, almost desperate. "I...shouldn't have brought that up..."
"I'm not having a flashback, Wilbur, relax...Sapnap got me over that, mostly..." His voice became almost too soft to hear. "And...Karl..." The pain in the whisper was almost tangible, to someone who'd been watching him try like hell to hide that he was mourning the loss of a friend: Foolish shifted, uneasily...did he need to intervene? "...after you...left..."
"I died, Quackity..."
"You took the fucking easy way out, Wilbur!" A glass broke - the fact that he knew it was only a glass, gave Foolish pause...Quackity had been in this mood, before... "You left us all staring at the smoldering ruins of the home we all built, and fought for, and some of us died for...you weren't there, to pick up the pieces...or defend them, when your father, Technoblade and Dream took them away from us again...you weren't there for Tommy, in exile...or for me, when I needed you..."
Foolish took a carefully quiet step back. The conversation was clearly headed somewhere very personal, and he didn't need to hear it.
"When did you need me?" Wilbur's voice held a note of...not pleasure, in Quackity's pain, but an almost wistful tone?
"Every...damned...day...after you left..."
"Nope..." Foolish spun around and walked far enough down the hall that he wouldn't overhear anything that wasn't loud enough to demand his intervention.
"You do know that he's a grown adult, now...right, mate?" Philza stared at Eret, one eyebrow cocked at her across his kitchen table.
"I know...but this...isn't about him being a child...it's about him needing a family." She sighed. "Philza...did you know...did Wilbur perhaps mention...what happened, when they spoke last?"
"Wilbur and Fundy?" Philza shook his head. "I didn't know they had. I hope it went well."
"I'm sorry to say, it didn't." She met his startled gaze, and took a deep breath. "Apparently...Fundy...jumped to his death, in front of Wilbur."
"WHAT?!"
"...and both of his deaths may be my fault, making it very much my duty to try and preserve the one life he has left."
"How..." Philza let out a long sigh. "Wilbur is my son, but I know...I know exactly how aggravating he can be...and since he's come back..." He shook his head. "...I can believe that he might have said or done something, to provoke Fundy...but to that? And how could that be your fault, in any way?"
"Wilbur came to speak to me...to make amends...and afterwards, he was going to look for Niki, but I sent him to where I knew Fundy would be, instead...I thought they should talk..."
Philza shook his head. "It's not your fault, mate...not this time."
"He came to me the other day...and I showed him the papers - those papers...Philza, he was giving things away..."
"Eret." Phil stood, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Fundy is a grown man. If he chose to take his own life...then that's on him, whether he did so to spite Wilbur or not. It is not...and I will emphasize: his actions are not your fault, nor your responsibility." Sighing heavily, he sat back down. "Unless you plunged a sword through him yourself, his blood is not on your hands...well, at least not the fresh blood..." He signed the document in front of him, and pushed it across the table. "...but if it will help you get over that guilt to do this, then I won't stand in the way."
"Thank you, Philza." Eret stood, and placed the papers carefully in a protective envelope.
"Out of curiosity...exactly how did you find out, about all of this?"
Eret sighed, and pulled out her communicator, bringing up the conversation with Quackity. "Quackity sent me this."
Scanning it, Philza nodded, grimly. "At least they're both in good hands...or soon will be..."
"You could go to Las Nevadas..."
Philza gave a short laugh. "I don't know who'd welcome me less - Wilbur, or Quackity. Especially if they're having the kind of conversation I think they are." He nodded towards the remains of Pogtopia. "If you're serious about checking on him...you'd best get going." Waving through the window as Eret left, he turned towards the refrigerator, and the picture still lovingly displayed on it. "What are we going to do with that boy..."
The clouds that had been gathering as she traveled to Philza's very remote home seemed to burst as she stepped back out of the cozy cabin: Eret gave an exasperated sigh. "Of course, it's raining." As soon as she could, she ducked through a nether portal, enjoying the reprieve from the persistent precipitation, and how fast the heat evaporated its remains. It also shortened the journey...for all the good it did.
Fundy was clearly in the process of removing his belongings, likely to evade Wilbur, Eret realized. Eyeing the single remaining chest with a sigh, she sat on it to wait for him to return.
"If you needed me so much...why did you push me away, as soon as I refused your gilded cage?" Wilbur slammed the last that was in his glass, angrily thrusting it out for more.
Quackity glared at him, as he poured another double from the bottle he'd resorted to drinking from, after throwing his own tumbler. "Do you really need to ask...you've been there, Wilbur...you've seen the...the fucking crater you made, of L'Manberg...or, more accurately: that your father and Technoblade helped Dream make...I guess you...tenderized the stone, a little, for them?" He took a large gulp from the bottle, then wiped his mouth with his sleeve, conscious that some of the alcohol had trickled out around the injury. "I've lost enough homes...enough people...and...and you're just proving that I was absolutely right...!"
"How, exactly?! I'm trying to apologize, for that..."
"So you can run away again, with a clear fucking conscience!" Quackity shouted. "You had a chance, Wilbur...you could have rebuilt with us...and maybe...if you had...your father and Technoblade wouldn't have helped Dream...I wouldn't have been alone...we wouldn't have been..."
"You keep correcting yourself, but not explaining."
"You left me, Wilbur! After I risked everything...sacrificed everything...lost everything...I did what you asked...you saw...you saw some of what he did...how it effected me...you even had to fucking rescue me from him..."
"Do you want me to apologize for saving you?!"
"I want you to apologize for leaving me at the same time he did!" Quackity's eye went wide, allowing carefully restrained tears to escape: taking several swallows from the bottle, he turned away from Wilbur's shocked expression. "Yeah...I said it...at least Schlatt didn't have a choice, checking out on me, leaving me to clean up his mess...hell, he probably didn't even remember about the...about...what I told him..." The arm not attached to the hand clutching the bottle in a shaking, white knuckled grip, wrapped around his midsection. "But you...you fucking...left us. You took back the thing you got us all to believe in...to fight for...and you fucking left us."
"But you rebuilt..."
"It wasn't the same...it was never the same, again...never safe...no longer built on ideals...we recreated it out of spite and stubbornness, not hope." He turned enough to glance at Wilbur over his shoulder. "You killed that, when you killed yourself. When you had your own father kill you...God...Wilbur...do you have any idea...have you apologized to him, about that?"
"Because his wings were injured? Of course..." Wilbur was standing halfway between his chair, and where Quackity was standing.
"No...though you owe him for that, too..." Quackity took another long drink: Wilbur reached out, hesitantly, as if not certain what he was reaching for...he passed him the mostly empty bottle, and pulled out his flask. "You made him hold you as you died, Wilbur...you're a father...and you should understand, but you don't..."
"We've already established that I'm a horrible father..."
"The closest I was able to come to being a father...I fucked up, too." He turned away, again. "I built a city, just like you...I tried...I tried to have a family, but..." He chuckled, mirthlessly. "...it was obviously never meant to be..."
Wilbur winced, at his choice of words...and their despairing tone. "Quackity..."
"Tell me something, Wilbur..."
"What?"
"What the hell am I doing wrong?"
Wilbur stared at him, uneasily. "What do you mean? Your city's thriving..."
"I get why Eret left...I do...and that was on me...and Schlatt died - thank God...but..." He turned to meet Wilbur's gaze. "I built this place, for my fiancés...only to get forgotten, then outright rejected..."
"That's simple - they're idiots..."
"And what's your excuse?"
"What?"
Quackity took a half step closer to him. "What's your excuse? Ever since you came back, you've been trying to get my attention...the way we used to flirt...I thought...maybe...but now, you're leaving, again...leaving me, again...alone..."
"Quackity, I don't..." Seeing the other man's bewildered, hurt expression, he caught himself, quickly rethinking what he'd been about to say. "I don't know what to say...I wanted to...make amends, not make things worse...I'm sorry I've hurt you...yet again..."
"Is it my face? Is that it? I mean...you ignored me, even before Technoblade left me like this...except...you didn't kill me...you resisted hitting the button, when I was in the room...but...obviously not because you give any more of a shit than anyone else...then or now...I guess at least...you didn't pretend to care, just to fuck me..." His voice was bitter.
"I would never..." Wilbur stared at him, concerned.
"Even if I wanted you to..." Quackity turned beet red, as he said it.
"What?"
"Damn it, Will...you are the most...clueless motherfucker..." He started to storm past Wilbur towards the door, fumbling for the key.
"I...clearly...?!" Wilbur reflexively grabbed his arm on the way past. "Now who's leaving..."
"You are! Again!" Angry tears streamed down his face. "Because I'm not worth sticking around for, to you, either!"
The pain in his expression was like a punch in the gut - he'd been trying to make up for the pain he'd already caused, not create so much more...staring at Quackity's quivering lower lip, noting the damage, but also how soft the untouched half promised to be... Wilbur leaned down, using his grip on Quackity's arm to pull him in. "If this is what it takes to prove to you that you're worth so much more than any of us have given you..." He kissed him.
Quackity's startled, angry shriek faded slowly into a moan, as he melted into Wilbur's embrace.