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“You’ll never win!”
The words ring through Tommy’s ears like white noise, the utter abhorrence and confidence in Punz’s voice wraps around Tommy’s throat and squeezes any last shards of hope until all that’s left is disparity. He digs his nails into the brick around him as he stares at Punz at the bottom of the staircase, his legs feeling numb and Tommy can sense Tubbo behind him, grabbing him, urging him to leave before the inevitable catches up with them but Tommy can barely breathe.
Why?! He wants to shout until his voice goes raw. Why are you so set out on ruining me?!
Why can’t Tommy just be happy? Why can’t he give a deserving life to his friends? To himself?
Is he really so naive to wish for something like that?
“Tommy!” Tubbo cries, grabbing Tommy’s hand as he yanks him up the narrow staircase, “We have to go, Tom!”
“Fuck,” Tommy heethes, unable to tear his eyes away from Punz as he starts whispering into a book. “Fuck! Fuck-- Tubbo, run!” His voice breaks off and Tubbo turns tail and begins scrambling up the stairs, looking over his shoulder to make sure Tommy is behind him.
He follows, the armor weighs him down though and he has to practically drag his body. His heart cries from inside his chest, and he wonders if this is now the rest of Tommy’s life. If he really is cursed inside a despicable game of cat and mouse, and not even death can save him. How is he supposed to live? Is he allowed to live, or just barely survive?
Tommy slips on a step that was far much steeper than the rest and with a pathetic thud he collides into the concrete stairs, banging his chin in the process. Tubbo looks at him horrified, but doesn’t hesitate to turn himself around to reach out a hand.
Go without me, is right at the tip of Tommy’s tongue, don’t let me slow you down. Don’t let my mistake put you in danger again.
But then a mini explosion echos out from behind Tommy, biting into his ear canal and nearly ripping it to shreds. In an instant Tommy nearly chokes on his own heart as he remembers the dynamite imbedded all around them, and he wonders if Tubbo would even have the chance to run--
It’s only one giant boom. Nothing follows after.
The sound fades into a ringing in Tommy’s head, and both he and Tubbo are caught off guard as they slump over. Tubbo grabs at the wall for support.
A small groan escapes Tommy’s lips before he can process it, his head pounding as he lays and tries to come back to his senses.
Dream…
Dream is chasing them. Dream and Punz are chasing them, and if they catch Tubbo they’re going to kill him. Tommy can’t let anything happen to Tubbo. Tommy has to fight.
“Tubbo…” Tommy clears his throat, his ears still ringing as he lolls his head up, “Tubbo, you have to run…I’ll fight them off as long as I can.”
Tubbo doesn’t respond to Tommy, and for a moment he thinks maybe the brunet has finally gone deaf before Tommy realizes his gaze is far past him.
“Wilbur?” Tubbo falters, his eyes as wide as golf balls as his knuckles turn white beneath the pressure he’s putting them under against the blackstone.
Tommy matches his look, and with a stern brow he turns around in a hastily shuffle, propping his arms up against the steps. In one moment, Tommy feels every single emotion possible as he stares down at the end of the staircase where Punz stood just moments ago.
Wilbur now takes his place, looking just as he did when he left Tommy on that beach months ago. He blows smoke off the barrel of the gun he’s holding.
“Wilby?” Tommy whispers in a tiny voice, and suddenly he feels like a child again calling for his older brother’s comfort.
Wilbur’s face grows soft. “Hello again, Tommy,” he smiles in a way he once did. No longer filled with mania and resentment, but rather the way Tommy remembers when he once wore an orange jacket. His smile is like home.
“I never really thought of myself as much of a gunman, but I’ve got to say that it’s ridiculously easy to get a firearm in Utah. Much easier than it is here, but that isn’t really saying much,” Wilbur explains like a Saturday afternoon as he looks over the pistol. “You boys got yourselves into some deep shit, didn’t you?” He asks with a faint giggle, “Don’t worry, I handled your uh--” Wilbur motions his gun to an area Tommy can’t see, but it doesn’t take an idiot to know what it is. “Accident. Just like old times, yeah? You get into trouble, and I clean up the mess as an older brother should.”
“How are you here?” Tommy rasps, the words falling out his mouth. “I thought--”
“Yeah, I didn't plan to return,” Wilbur chuckles, scratching the back of his neck. “The plan was to apologize and leave everyone's lives so I couldn’t do any more damage than I already had. But it turns out the crows here have the same hivemind in America and I couldn’t just let you both get yourselves killed.”
Tommy breaks off into a little snicker as he ducks his head low, rubbing a hand over his face as he fights to keep himself together.
The crows. Phil’s crows, of course.
“You killed him,” Tubbo says, hope laced in with his words in such a way it sounds like he might cry. Tommy would be a hypocrite to blame him if he did. “You killed Punz before he could revive Dream.”
“Suppose I did,” Wilbur hums. “Serves them right. Now death is permanent.”
Death is permanent.
Ranboo.
Oh, poor Ranboo.
Tommy’s heart aches at the thought of his friend, an unrighteous death, and when he looks up to Tubbo he knows he’s thinking the same thing as him. If only there was enough time, but Tommy can’t help but wonder if that would be right of him.
“Hold on a minute,” Wilbur says as he puts his gun away, leaning over out of sight before coming back with a book in his hands.
Revival, it says on the cover. Subtly was never in Dream’s nature.
“Ranboo,” Tubbo says before Tommy can get the chance to open his mouth.
Wilbur’s face sinks. “Ranboo,” he hums, flipping over the pages. “They’re still dead, then.”
“We can bring him back!” Tubbo exclaims, stepping past Tommy down the steps. “One last revival, and then we’ll burn the damn thing.”
“But aren’t we the same as Dream then?” Tommy asks, not moving as he flicks his gaze between the two men. “Is it truly right of us to play God just because it’s somebody close to us that’s passed?”
Tubbo bites his lip for a moment. “If it wasn’t for Dream, Ranboo wouldn’t have ever died,” he explains. “Ranboo is a victim of that guy’s bullshit. They don’t deserve to be up there with him for eternity.”
“It’s just one revival. We’re not evil people, Tommy, not like Dream. We’re going to use it, once, to right that green boy’s wrongs, and then we’ll get rid of it,” Wilbur assures.
“We?” Tommy repeats, “So are you staying then?”
Wilbur ponders. “No,” he decides, and before Tommy’s heart can swell he continues, “But I don’t want to leave you both behind. Obviously, you can’t be trusted by yourselves.”
Tubbo and Tommy let out a breathy laugh.
“So this is it then,” Tommy says, “No more tyrants. No more evil.”
“I finally get my partner back,” Tubbo smiles wetly. “Michael finally gets his parent.”
“Michael. I don’t think I ever had the chance to meet him. I know Ghostbur did,” Wilbur breaths. “I want to meet him.”
“He’ll come with us, to wherever that is,” Tommy says.
“The moon,” Tubbo nods, “A cottage on the moon.”
“I don’t think the moon would be possible just yet,” Wilbur laughs, “But Utah does have a forest, central mountains. A perfect place for a nice cottage.”
“It’s settled then,” Tommy grins, “And fuck this server! We’re getting out of here!”
“Fuck this server!” Tubbo shouts, his laughter bouncing off the walls.
They’re free now. The chase is over. That is something Tommy can say with certainty.