Work Text:
Swish
Tommy resists the urge to turn around. It’s the sixth time he manages to catch himself, but he lost to his instincts twice already.
He’s been walking for thirty minutes.
But Shroud is quiet in his arms, content to cuddle and absorb his warmth. Winter is just around the corner. It’s already cold enough that Tommy himself is wrapped in a thick jacket, laid over the blue cardigan that Puffy helped him knit.
Tchick
He flinches. He risks a glance behind him, but there’s nothing as far as he can see. It isn’t that far – his eyesight has been going in lately – but the open fields don’t offer many places to hide in. He fears the woods in the distance though. So many things, so many people could be hiding there. The Eggpire isn’t that far out, Jack and Niki could be anywhere, Dream is out there somewhere, hunting him, they could be ambushed at any time and—
Thump
Shroud yelps as he presses him into his chest when he steps back. Tommy loosens his arms instinctively. “Sorry there. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
Shroud hisses gently. It sounds like a no.
See, this is why he’s going to Tubbo, even if Dream’s hunting him and Tubbo’s grieving and Ranboo is gone. Spiders aren’t supposed to talk. Spiders aren’t supposed to talk . And yet Shroud is. He needs confirmation that he’s hearing this right before he drives himself crazy again. He’s not doing that again. He is not doing this song and dance of what is real, is this right, is thistrue,ismybodybetrayingme,is—
No.
Stop.
Deep breaths. He’s squeezing the life out of Shroud, who is making his displeasure known so fucking loudly please quiet down .
Fwhizz
Tommy startles out of his skin. He looks frantically around, looking for threats that aren’t there — they aren’t there. Once he deems it safe, he starts jogging down the path.
The noises are relentless. There’s always something happening in the background, but there’s never anything around him. Even when he opts out of crossing the forest — going instead the long way around it — there’s not a person in sight.
And then he reaches the shore. If behind him was open field, in front of him is flat blue as far as the eye can see. The sea is gray and placid, reflecting the color of the sky. A building looms over the horizon but he can’t see the land it lays upon. He’s only sure he’s in the right direction thanks to the thin strip of cobble that links the mainland to the commune.
He hates the damned thing. It’s open on all sides, it forces him on a clear path with no escapes, and with the wind whistling in his ears he can’t hear anything. It’s half an hour at the mercy of freezing air and harsh sea, and he can’t bring himself to take the first step because his brain is screaming at him that it’s a bad idea.
He pushes down the nausea in his throat and the paranoia in his mind. There is nothing that can hurt him around here. There is nothing, period.
He takes a deep breath.
He takes the first step.
“We’ll be there in no time at all,” he says, more to himself than to Shroud. “And then you can play chase with Michael while I talk to uncle Tubbo, yeah? You up for that?”
Shroud lets out some content noises — no, not content, they’re genuinely happy — and burrows into the crevices of Tommy’s jacket.
Tommy smiles. He’ll be sad to hear that none of this is real, that Shroud is not learning to talk, that there are no constant sounds around him, that he really cannot trust his own senses anymore. It’s like being back in– ringing ears, saltwater, Tubbo’s there, in the portal, he’s not talking, is he real, is he alive, why won’t he talk to–
Thump
Tommy freezes, then forces himself to relax. It’s not real. Whatever it is, it isn’t there. Tommy is fine. Everything’s fine.
Sching
That.
That was not in his imagination. He felt that sound deep within his bones.
“Shroud,” he whispers into the little spider’s ear. He scrolls his hotbar for a weapon, then his inventory when he doesn’t find anything useful– godsdammit why doesn’t he have– there . “Shroud, baby, when I tell you to run I need you to run as fast as you can to uncle Tubbo’s okay?”
He’s never been more relieved to– well at this point he doesn’t know if he’s hallucinating or not — but he’s so glad to hear Shroud’s quiet hiss. He pawns the iron sword from his inventory to his hotbar, careful not to let it slip. He loosens his hold on Shroud and looks straight ahead.
They’re halfway there. If Shroud’s fast enough– if he can keep whoever it is at bay long enough– then Tubbo will have time to come for back up. Gods. Gods he might just survive this. He hopes Prime is looking down right now.
SWISH
He drops Shroud, sword already in hand, and barely parries the netherite axe headed straight for his side. “Run! Shroud, run!”
“Tommy~,” sings Dream. The stupid fucking cracked mask covers his face, save for one eye glowing green. “Hi! Did you miss me?,” he asks like the fucking lunatic he is.
The pressure on his sword increases. He can barely keep the axe away from himself. He steps back, trying to get Dream to stumble forward, trying for an open shot at the older man’s back, but he recovers immediately.
The axe swings up. It catches Tommy’s sword at the hilt.
“Oh come on , you’re not even gonna say hi to your friend?”
Tommy can even hear the stupid godsdamned smile Dream’s got.
“Fuck off, we’re not fucking friends.” He tugs his sword to the side, letting it slip free of the axe’s hold, and steps further back. He needs to get closer to the shore, dammit.
Dream is relentless though. He swings the axe again. It’s by a hair’s width that he doesn’t get a scar like Quackity’s. He ducks under another hit and stabs at Dream’s stomach. Dream catches his sword. The CLANG of metal on metal grates at his ears. He flinches. And Dream doesn’t have enough mercy in him to let him recover. The cut on his arm stings from the cold wind. His cardigan and jacket are both already staining red.
“You wound me so, Tommy. Of course we’re friends, I’m your only friend.”
“NO YOU’RE FUCKING NOT.”
Dream, Tommy decides then, has completely gone off his hinges. He wiped Tommy’s blood off the axe with his hand — what the fuck, what the fuck — and he’s looking at the bloodied limb transfixed. Then, like he’s studying something, he rubs his fingers together and brings them to his face.
Tommy holds back a gag. He’s not gonna let an opportunity go to waste. He checks his inventory for blocks and puts the half-stack of cobble in his hotbar. He starts running.
Dream is hot in pursuit, his steps reverberating through the path beneath them. Tommy risks slowing down a bit and plants two blocks of cobble smackdab in the middle of the path before sprinting again. The heavy twomp he hears from behind almost makes him laugh. The column won’t stop Dream for long, but it’s enough to give him a slight advantage.
He runs like the fucking wind, and almost slips into the sea on the patches where the water went over the bridge. He strains his ears trying to hear Dream’s steps over the wind. It’s not hard now. He’s not being subtle anymore.
The shore of Snowchester comes into sight. The thinnest layer of ice starts showing up at the sides of the bridge, just as gray as the rest of the environment. He picks up the pace. Even if his legs hurt, even if the cold air chills his bones and runs sharp pricks along his skin, he runs.
He’s less than a hundred blocks out from Snowchester now, and yet he doesn’t see anyone outside. Gods, he hopes someone will be there. He hopes — if not for him, then for Shroud — that Snowchester isn’t deserted. That they’ll be safe.
The wind dies down as the ice grows thicker, and it’s pure chance that he hears a soft wheeze. He ducks to the side, almost throwing himself off the bridge. An arrow sails harmless past him, embedding itself in the stone and fucking tripping him . A second wheeze, and another arrow pins his jacket to the floor. He fucking liked this jacket too.
He tears the arrow away — thank the gods it hadn’t hit anything, thank the gods, he’ll leave an offering to all of them once he’s safe — but Dream’s already nearly on him. He rolls to his feet and immediately has to parry a hit that reverberates in his entire body when he catches it.
“Come on, Tommy,” Dream purrs. He’s got some of his blood on the mask. “I don’t wanna have to hurt you.”
Tommy drops down the second Dream puts more weight behind the axe and kicks his legs out from beneath him. It’s the first hit he gets in, and he’s proud of the way Dream hits his chin on the stone below. He jumps over the man, barely avoiding the hand grabbing at his ankle.
He gets maybe three seconds of vantage before Dream is attacking again. He’s even more ferocious than before. There’s a new chip in the porcelain of his mask.
Tommy parries a second blow, then a third, and the fourth nicks his shoulder. He goes for Dream’s unprotected side, just to switch in a feint at the last second. He hits the arm Dream’s holding the axe with.
Dream yells over the crunch of snow further out and ignores the sword, pushing Tommy back and throwing him off balance. Just as he’s righting himself, the axe hooks around his ankle and pulls.
CRASH
Tommy slams into the ice, with his legs sinking below where it opened up. He heaves himself up, mindful of the creaking beneath his hands, and rolls away. The axe embeds itself exactly where his palm had been a moment ago.
Well, he’s lost his sword. It’s just fair that he kicks the head of the axe hard enough to make it break the ice. And get lost in the sea.
A weight slams into him. As he rolls down the frozen sea, he catches a flash of lime at his back. He rolls over so that Dream is the one to take the burnt of the impact and digs an elbow in the man’s stomach. He tries to spring up, but a hand wraps around his leg and pulls him down.
Crick , he hears from below, before a punch blinds the living daylights out of him. His nose pulses. He tastes metal from the blood running from his nose over his lip.
“Come on~, Tommy, stop fighting.”
Tommy kicks. He doesn’t know where Dream is, he’s just aiming for the general direction he heard the voice from, but the kick does connect. He’s not too sure of where he kicked him — too soft for the head, too hard for the stomach — but it’s made the man curse. He gets to his feet and stomps on the crack next to Dream’s hand. The ice breaks, and Dream’s entire arm sinks.
“You know, I was gonna be generous and forgive you if you came with me,” Dream says. Instead of standing up and getting out of the water, he grabs Tommy’s foot with both hands. “I don’t think I will now, though.”
He pulls Tommy's foot, but the boy is prepared for that now. As he falls, he punches Dream back, right in the neck, and makes him yelp in protest. Dream doesn’t let go though. He brings one hand up and grabs the collar of Tommy’s shirt, pulling all off him roughly down.
The ice groans as Tommy slams into it, and the crack he made where Dream’s hand widens between them. Panic spikes down Tommy’s back. He tries to shove Dream away with one hand, while the other makes him let go of his shirt.
Dream’s stronger though. He’s always been too strong to feel even remotely human. His single visible eye is wide and crazed. For a moment, Tommy’s thrown back to the loud roar of lava and the harsh coldness of obsidian.
He jerks away, the movement so erratic that even Dream hadn’t predicted it. He nearly pulls the man into the crack in the ice, but his reflexes save him. Tommy doesn’t let that deter him. There’s less than forty blocks between him and Snowchester now. He can see figures running on the peninsula, dark silhouettes growing closer.
Tommy manages to get maybe ten blocks forward before the ice groans in warning.
He steps to the side just as Dream comes barrelling, and they send each other hits on the shoulders, on the arms, on the sides as they pass by each other. But Dream pivots at the last moment and nails his fist into Tommy’s gut, then another to Tommy’s jaw. He gets thrown into the ice with his back.
CRACK
Someone yells his name, and it’s the last thing he hears before the cold envelops him.
Water rushes past him, roaring in his ears, pulling him away from the hole in the ice. The little air in his lungs starts to burn as he does his best not to breathe. He fights against the current, blind in the dull blue of the sea. Unable to see the light, he follows the sounds of yells and clanging and yells.
A thud comes from above, startling him into inhaling water. His throat closes up, his chest screams, and he’s this close to the surface and he’s drowning in. His ears ring. He coughs on instinct and more water gets in his lungs. Spots dance across his already dark vision. He’s gonna pass out. He’s gonna die here in the cold, he’s gonna leave Shroud alone and he didn’t mean to, he doesn't want and he’s scared and he’s dying, he’s dying and–
CRASH
A ray of light shines right in front of him. A dark shape moves in it, but maybe they’re just the spots in Tommy’s vision. He can’t even move towards it. He’s tired, and his ears ring and he almost can’t see, and so he lets go even when something wraps around him, tugs him away, and he just wants it to stop. He’s so tired. He wants to sleep.
And then frigid and harsh winds slam into him, and he’s laying on something — cold cold cold, so cold it burns — and something’s pressing harshly, too harshly, against his chest. Everything burns, hot and cold at the same time. He turns to the side and gags,vomiting all of the water in his lungs onto the ice.
Something– Someone ’s holding him, making him sit up as he coughs. The yells and clanging of metal are still there in the distance, but they’re covered by gentle whispers in his ears and the slow buzz of his mind.
Tommy can’t understand what they’re saying, but that’s okay because there’s something soft and fluffy and warm wrapped around him and a fuzzy weight on his chest. He cracks his eyes open and meets Shrouds wide red ones. “G’d boy,” he mutters. He lays his head on the spider’s warm body and closes his eyes, breathing deeply. He flinches at a particularly loud clang.
“Tommy?”
He cracks his eyes open again, and looks to the side. Eret — is it Eret? It’s been so long, he almost can’t recognize her. Her hair’s so long now too, especially since it’s dripping with water, and there’s blood on the sword strapped to her side — is sitting beside him. Sunglasses hide their expression, but they’re a warm and comforting presence right now. Uh, who would have thought?
“Tommy? Come on, we need to get somewhere warmer. Let me help you stand up.”
An arm passes around his waist, and he feels himself being heaved upwards, still with Shroud in his arms. He stumbles forward, but Eret holds him tight enough to not let him fall.
“Oh, you’re still alive,” comes Ranboo’s voice. That’s not right though. Ranboo’s dead.
He opens his eyes, finding a washed out copy of Ranboo floating a foot off the ground next to Michael. Michael himself looks like he’s had a few not too pleasant days.
“Yes he is, but not for long if we don’t get in the mansion soon,” hisses Eret. She’s trembling, unlike Tommy. He feels too tired even for that.
Shroud climbs off his arms then, followed soon by Michael, both heading for the mansion just a few blocks further. Him and Eret set off too, though Eret’s the one doing most of the walking. Tommy tries, but every shout and clang and crash sends a jolt of fear coursing through his veins.
“It’s okay,” Eret says by his ear. “Technoblade and Tubbo are strong. They can handle Dream. It’s alright. We’ll take care of it.”
Tommy stumbles again. He tries to breathe, but there isn’t much air coming in. He’s shaky and exhausted and scared and grateful and so, so done. His body is too heavy to walk with. He lays his head on Eret’s shoulder and forces his legs to take one step, then another, then another, and again. He doesn’t make it.
“I think I’m gonna pass out.” His legs give in. His ears ring louder than Eret’s concern. The world goes dark.