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The first thing that Phil hears is the shouting.
It has been silent in this birdhouse, save for the chatter of the creatures caged inside—the flutter of wings and the panicked cawing and crying of birds hidden away from freedom—so when Phil heard other voices coming from outside, it startled him so badly that he let out some inhuman shriek of fear and ducked further into the corner he had already been sitting in, wings and arms coming up in tandem to shield him from whatever sudden danger may be approaching.
The birds sang their confusion out into the noise as it simply gets louder and louder, more voices stacking on top of one another until he can hear the cacophony sounding from all around him. He doesn't know if he's able to recognise them—the part of him that would be able to pull names out of his consciousness has retreated into a deeper part of him, and all he knows in this moment is that there are people here and they might hurt him. He has been visited by Cucurucho many times, but Cucurucho never makes this much noise, so who? Why?
He flinches yet again when he hears a loud buzz come from the locked door, followed by a shout that might be a swear and a heavy thump that might be someone kicking the door. He is surrounded by noise—scratching at the wooden walls, weapons hitting the house with more force than he could ever muster and still bouncing off like rubber, even small explosions as whatever is outside tries their damndest to make it inside. Another buzz from the locked door, and a louder sound of disappointment come from many, many people at once—then there's a voice shouting over the rest, one distinct in tone enough that some part of Phil stirs with familiarity, and he feels his feathers shift uncomfortably as a long, drawn out buzz and scrape and glitch noise sounds from the door and someone is grunting with pain and exertion—
The pressure in the birdhouse shifts, and the door pops open.
Phil's eyes go wide as his head snaps up to stare at the flood of people that enter—headed by Fit and Tubbo with Etoiles following behind them, his code-infected arm writhing and shifting as he tries to wrangle it back into a passable form. He knows it's those people—he recognises those faces, and a few names filter into his mind—but that doesn't erase the fact that they are very loud and he is very vulnerable, and he doesn't care how pathetic it looks, really; a golden apple manifests in his hand and he tears into it, feeling the dull rush of energy under his skin boost him for just a few moments as he dashes from his spot quicker than the eye can follow, grabbing his precious items and kicking from the floor to crate to crate to shelf to the rafters and waiting there, perched, hands shaking from an unfortunate terror and the effects of the golden apple. His wings are spread behind him, wide, daring for anyone to approach him.
Of course, the first person to do so is Tubbo. Phil's eyes are narrowed as he uses the grappling squok to attach to the ceiling and fly upwards, landing on the rafters with a grace that only someone part goat could muster. He stares at Phil with an odd look in his eyes. "Phil...?"
"What?" Phil snaps, taking a step back and clutching the hat and the deflated plastic in his hand close to his chest. "What do you want?"
Tubbo blinks rapidly, face twisting into an expression of confusion. "What do I—Phil, we're here to get you out! You've been gone for—for—I dunno, days? Weeks?"
"Week and a half!" Fit calls from down below, and Tubbo repeats the same.
"C'mon, Phil, we've got to get out of here," Tubbo says, reaching out for Phil's hand. "I dunno if the Feds actually want us to be here this time—Etoiles had to do some crazy stuff with his code arm to get that door open, so I think we have to go. Like, now."
Phil watches Tubbo's hand rush towards him and, before he can really think about it, swipes at it and backs away yet again, almost pushing himself up against the wall in his attempt to back away. "Get the hell away from me," he rasps, voice broken from disuse and screaming. "Get out. Get out, get out, I need to get—" He clutches his head with his free hand and winces so hard his entire body tenses. "I need to—I need to find them—"
"Find...Chayanne and Tallulah?"
Phil's head snaps up towards him at breakneck speed. "You've found them?"
Tubbo looks reluctant to answer. "N...No, Phil, I'm sorry. We haven't found any of them yet."
The growl that Phil lets out is the furthest sound from human he thinks he can make, and Tubbo seems to instinctively take the message and back away himself. "Cucurucho—I need Cucurucho, he has to give them back—is he here?" He digs his talons into the wood he's perched upon but keeps his grip on his valuables light and ginger. "Did he lead you here? Where is he?"
"We don't know, we don't know!" Tubbo exclaims, holding up his hands. "We just followed your trail—okay, I'm gonna need some help up here, guys."
Tubbo looks over the edge down at the group, and almost immediately, Fit and Etoiles both also show up in the same way that Tubbo did. Forever instead takes to stepping up on the crates stacked up to try and reach him, simply watching from below when he can't make it all the way to him.
"Hey, Phil—you're alright, okay?" Fit tries, taking a step towards him with his palms turned out towards him. "We're here to save you and take you home. Cucurucho isn't here, you're safe."
Phil feels his wings fluff further as he simply takes to baring his teeth at Fit, not bothering to spend the energy on words when he can make his point known without them. He knows Cucurucho isn't here—that's the biggest problem. What's the point of being saved when his eggs are still missing? What's the point of being safe when they're almost certainly still in some sort of awful danger somewhere where he can't protect them? The low rumbling in the back of his throat makes Fit's eyes widen as he throws a cautious glance towards Tubbo and Etoiles.
"I don't think he's...all there, you know?" Etoiles says, still dangling off the ceiling from his grappling squok and gesticulating with his corrupted hand. "I think he may be a bit...bird-brained. Baghera does it sometimes, too."
"Well, I knew he could get bird-brained, but I never thought it could get this bad!" Fit says, flinging out an arm towards Phil in an attempt to gesture at him that only makes him stumble backwards and fall into the wall. He disappears Chayanne's floatie and Tallulah's beanie off into his inventory and uses all of his instincts to properly perch on the rafters, shielding himself from the rest of them with his wings as he balances himself. He doesn't need to see them—maybe if he ignores them, they'll leave. He doesn't need them—he doesn't need to go with them—he's been in here for so long that he doesn't even know what he'll do when he's out. He's searched up and down for his eggs, he's threatened and retaliated against the Federation, he's interrogated everyone he can interrogate and more, but he's no closer to them than he was on the day he returned. Maybe if he stays here, they'll have pity on him and bring them back. Maybe if he just listens...
"Well, if Baghera has gotten like this before," Tubbo says distantly. His voice is louder but more far away when he calls, "Baghera! Jaiden! Could you help us with Phil? He's gone a bit birdy and I don't think he knows what's going on!"
Phil doesn't do anything to try and listen in on the conversation happening in front of him—he only registers it when he hears a very clear trill of his name in a language that speaks directly to his core.
He moves one of his wings to the side and lifts his head, eyes still narrowed, pupils still dilated, to meet the concerned expression of Baghera, Jaiden just a couple of inches behind her. She tilts her head to the side and frowns as she tries to force herself to speak in the language of avians, in which Phil can clearly tell she is rusty, but understandable nonetheless. "Phil. Are you okay?"
"Eggs," he hisses, talons back in his hair as he twists his eyes shut and knocks his forehead against his knees. "I want my eggs. Where are my eggs."
"Phil," Baghera says gently, laying a hand on Phil's leg. He doesn't react, only tensing and trying to fight away the burning at the corners of his eyes. "We will find them. But you can't do anything to help look from here. Here is bad."
"But—" Phil starts, drawing in a strangled breath. "But—Cucurucho comes here. He knows—he took my eggs. He has them. He—"
Phil's broken speech is cut into pieces by avian and meaningless noises that accompany the tears starting to flow from his face. "I need them back. I need him. He'll—he'll tell me where they are."
"No, Phil, he won't," Jaiden says with a solemnness hovering over her words that doesn't quite make sense in Phil's mind. "I know Cucurucho more than anyone—"
Phil's eyes widen. "Do you—?"
"No," she says firmly, and the noise of frustration that Phil makes is enough to make everyone in the vicinity wince. "I know him better than I probably should. He doesn't have your eggs. I don't even think he knows where they are, he's just...tormenting you. For fun. There's no reason for you to stay here, Phil, don't do this to yourself."
"But—"
"I might not know that bird-speak stuff as well as you and Baghera do," Jaiden carries on, undeterred by Phil's rising agitation. "But I do know how to say this: help. That's what the eggs need, and that's what you need. Help."
Immediately, every instinctual alarm bell in Phil's mind sets off at once and he looks like he's been shot by something. He knows the cry came from Jaiden's mouth, he saw it happen and he heard the context, but all he can think of is the idea of his eggs, his kids out there somewhere, crying out for help and having no-one to turn to. It makes him hike up his shoulders and dig his nails further into his scalp and let out a wail, his chest twisting violently before the tension slowly starts to release from his body. He sobs into his clothes, Baghera removing her hand and giving him space as he cries and cries and cries, and his awareness starts to come back to him to tell him that he's being pitiful but he can't bring himself to care, not when its his eggs that he's crying over, not when he's lost his children to the darkest, most terrifying fear of them all: the unknown.
He doesn't know how long he sits there for, but when his tears run dry and he feels mostly like himself again, the room is suspiciously silent. When he lifts his head up, he sees that many of the people that were there originally aren't anymore, having filtered outside to give him privacy. He sees Fit and Tubbo sitting on crates as Etoiles stands on the floor, facing them. Forever is sat on the crate closest to him, messing with his communicator, and Baghera and Jaiden are still sitting on the ledge, somehow both immediately looking at him as soon as he looks at them.
Bagera flashes him a tired smile as Jaiden widely grins at him. "Hey, man. Welcome back."
Phil shakes his head, trilling as he does so, and frowns deeply. "I am...so sorry. I'm so sorry for that."
"No, no!" Baghera insists, pushing him lightly as the remaining people in the room protest with him. "Don't apologise. You've been stuck in here for twelve days, Philza, nobody is upset or surprised that you were upset."
Phil yet again shakes his head. "I'm still sorry. I'm—I just...I got so freaked out over Cucurucho coming here and...saying things. Writing things. Whatever." He leans into his legs again. "It was messed up. I can't believe I let him get to me."
"You can't believe that manipulation meant for you worked on you?" Forever rewords, making Phil stare at him and blink several times over. Forever offers him a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes and says, "Trust me, man. If the Federation wants to mess with your head, they will. I think me of all people should know that."
Phil frowns. "That was different."
Forever shrugs. "Not really. I could've said no to the drugs, and none of that would have happened. But they caught me when I was at my lowest and broke me. Same with you. Don't hold yourself to an impossible standard, my friend. That's the president's job."
Phil lets out a deadpan, 'ha,' and the room snickers. Etoiles is beaming at him, that eternal smile somehow comforting Phil despite the circumstances. "Mr President is right, Phil. You leave the impossible standards to him, leave the impossible feats to me. The only impossible thing you need to focus on is getting yourself to sleep."
"But..." Phil protests, his subconscious mind poking into his inventory to make sure the floatie and the beanie are still there despite there being no way for them to have disappeared. "What about finding the eggs, guys, I can't just—"
"Ah, ah," Etoiles interrupts, holding up a finger towards him. "I said impossible things. Finding the eggs is super possible. We can do it at any time. Finding a time to get you to sleep is like waiting for a boss to show its weak point, yeah?" Phil snorts despite himself. "You're gonna go home and rest, or else I'll be forced to..."
Etoiles waggles his code-corrupted fingers at him. Phil doesn't know what Etoiles can actually do with that and every deep-rooted part of his body is begging him to not find out. Forever pushes himself to a standing position on the crates and presses a warp stone into his hand, still smiling at him, and he gives a quiet thanks.
One by one, after making sure that Phil will be going home and going to bed, the people in the house warp away. Those outside were likely instructed not to come in, and Phil can hear the chatter being significantly quieter now than it was when he originally came to. Baghera waits for him to go first, and he struggles to find his words before saying, "I'm really sorry about all of that."
"Philza," she drawls. "I am not upset. You think I'd be upset because you were panicking like that?"
"No, no—"
"I'm almost offended."
Phil lets out a defeated sigh and half-smiles. "I don't think—look, it was an inconvenience. I'm sorry for snapping at everyone."
"I think I was worse when I found out they were missing, Phil," Baghera says lightly. "I was fine for a while, but after that I just...ah, what's the word for it? Dissociated, I think, for a long time after Tubbo told me. You have been kidnapped for a week and a half with a bunch of panicking birds. You are fine."
Phil looks unconvinced. "...sure."
Baghera raises an eyebrow at him. "Sure?"
"Sure, yes, okay," he continues. "Fine. I'm fine. Thank you. For helping me, I mean—thank you so much."
Baghera shrugs and grins. "Birds help birds, yes? We flock together, and all of that."
Phil laughs and cracks open his warp stone, activating it. "Yes, I suppose we do."