Work Text:
Tubbo knows he’s dying before he can even take his next breath.
The screwdriver hits the side of the makeshift beryllium-netherite chamber with a soft clink. A sound so innocuous it should be unheard in the low, consistent din of the room. It is almost deafening in the moments when he realizes what had just happened. That moment between milliseconds seems to last forever, and he gasps. He is only able to blink once before a blue glow envelops the room and a dizzying blast of heat throws him back. A second wave follows, an intense purple light that is as cold as ice and as sharp as diamond.
On instinct, he kicks the chamber over as he falls backwards, the plutonium and magma cream spilling across the stone floor. His movements are panicked and scared like an animal as he flails on the ground for a moment taking in deep breaths. His eyes flick from side to side, pupils narrowing and throat tightening. Tubbo can feel his body lurch and spasm as the blast of radiation and nether magic finishes passing through him.
Tubbo thinks he passes out, he can’t tell. Every part of him is on fire.
Ba-dump
Ba-dump
Ba-dump
Slowly, slowly slowly, he stands on shaking legs, his heart beating strangely slow for the amount of adrenaline in his system. It skips a few beats before evening out to a slow, steady thud. His skin is on fire, his eyes water.
The reaction was supercritical.
Tubbo didn’t think he would die like this. Heavy anxiety flashes across his chest like nails digging into skin. He thought he’d make it a few more years, stumbling along and eventually succumbing to the longer term effects of his work. He would be okay with that, he could do his damnedest to raise Michael and do what he could for Tommy. Tubbo doesn’t have another respawn though, he’s been running on borrowed time for months. He was comfortable with the idea of dying, but he didn’t expect it to happen now. He isn’t ready.
He throws up all over the ground. His vision is hazy, but there is definitely blood and chunks of something disgusting in it. Bile rises in his throat, and he backs away on shaking legs to get away from the mess. He is dizzy, the world spins around him and he struggles to stay on his feet.
Tubbo stumbles over to the table near the door where he left his things. His hand goes for the door, he wants to see his son one last time. He pulls back after a moment of silence. The buzzing of the lights seem to be getting louder. They’re almost painfully loud. He presses shaking hands to his ears and lets out a breathy sob. He can’t leave. He can’t infect his son with the radiation and magic seeping from his pores. Tubbo knows how to be selfless, but he isn't quite sure how to give up something like this.
On the table sits a chest. Tubbo pushes it to the ground, unsure if he would be able to keep the heavy lid open in his current state. His work gear spills out onto the ground, with it coming two faded, heavily folded pictures and a small locket. Tubbo stares at it for a moment, leaning against the table. He stumbles forward and falls against the wall. The impact of falling into the wall and the physical sensation of his upper body coming into contact with more than just the fabric of his shirt burns. He lurches away, falling onto his ass and hitting his head against the wall.
It feels like when Tubbo was hit by the firework times a million. Fire dances under his skin and licks at his nerves, like netherfire biting at his bones. It has to be that, he thinks, the nether magic. It’s making this far, far more painful than it should be. Or is it? He’s never been in contact with this level of radiation. He’d been careful before, but now that the threat of Dream taking the last bit of happiness he has left looms over him, he neglected those safety measures.
“Stupid. Fucking, stupid. Why why why.” Tubbo speaks through sobs, clawing at his hair and curling into himself on the cold stone floor.
Tubbo feels his organs seize and his body lurch as he vomits again. There is nothing but blood and chunks of flesh in it now, his food long since evacuated. He puts his hands on his arms, curling into himself. He feels his skin move under his fingers as if it is detached from his muscle and fat. Tubbo removes his hands immediately and sits up in a panic. He crawls towards the wall, fingers fumbling for the photographs on the ground as he does so.
With significant effort, Tubbo claws his way until he is sitting on the floor with his back to the wall. He can feel the skin separating from his chest and thighs. He is glad he cannot see his face. He does not want to know what his organs look like.
Tubbo sobs, bringing a trembling hand up to his mouth. Void, this is it, isn't it? Broken cries echo through the empty, quietly humming lab. In one of his hands he holds the picture of his family Tommy took for him and another one showing Tommy grinning, thumbs up and holding the camera with one hand so he can lean into the photo. Tubbo wishes it was his full face, he wants to see his friend one last time before-
Maybe he couldn’t see Tommy, but he could definitely talk to him. With numb fingers, he taps on his communicator. Barely able to navigate to the communications screen and tap on Tommy’s profile.
“Tommy.”
“Hi Tubbo!”
“I need you to promise me something please.”
“Suuureeeee?” Tommy says,Tubbo can hear him fidgeting with things in the background. He didn’t want to tell him this. He wants to stay in this moment forever, wrapped in the feeling of comfort his best friend brings him. Tubbo is silent.
“Tubbo? All good man?”
“No.”
“What’s up? Are you okay?”
“No, I’m not.”
There is shuffling.
“Tubbo where are you, I just gotta grab my sword and I’ll come get you.”
“No- no tommy this isn’t something you can-“
“Tubbo I’ve been through a lot with you, I’ll beat the shit out of whoever’s bothering you, okay? We do this together.”
“No. Tommy, I am dying. I will not- I can’t- I won’t make it. I know I won’t. I won’t.”
“What?”
“Don’t try to find my body after I’m gone. It’s- It’s radiation poisoning and some sorta magic I was experimenting with. I wanted to see if it was possible to kill an immortal using accelerated and mutated cell death to stop the rapid healing process but I fucked up and I caused a reaction. It went supercritical, man. My face was right above it. My chest was too. I’m going to die I-”
“No you’re not, didn't that one guy on 2b survive okay?”
“Tommy, this is about 1200x the radiation he was exposed to. It was a mild mechanical failure and he got his hand stuck. He only survived because a few of the guys were able to drag him to an old stash and feed him enough duped Gapples to kill a horse.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. My body is gonna be emitting radiation for a few thousand years. “
“Thats fuckin’ brutal man, you deserve a burial.”
“I- I’m making my peace with the fact I will be buried with my work.”
“Fuck Tubbo you really did something really stupid, and I just- I dont know.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry man I don’t wanna shame you while you’re fucking dyin’ thats not good.”
“I get it.”
“I’m gonna miss you.” Tommy says with a tremble in his voice
“I’m gonna miss you too.” Tubbo whispers back. His chest is starting to hurt as his heart beats heavy in his chest.
“How long do you have?”
“Seconds? Minutes? Hours? I’m not sure. It won't be long though. I can feel it.”
“I’m sorry Tubbo.”
“It’s okay, can you watch after Michael?”
“Of course man, of course. Don’t needa worry about that.”
“Get out, if you can.”
“I will. Maybe there’ll be a way to bring you back out there.”
“I don't know. Don’t worry about that too much, okay? Just, be okay for me. Be okay for Michael. I- I don’t want you to spend the rest of your life thinking about this.”
“Don’t think I could ever forget you man, don’t think I could ever stop searching.”
“Well, you shouldn't.”
“Tubbo,”
“I’m sorry.”
The line goes quiet for a few minutes. Tommy holds his hand to his mouth to hold back the sound of him crying. Why did it have to be like this? Why them? Why couldn’t either of them get a fucking break?
“Hello?” Tubbo’s voice sounds different. Stiffer, scared, and almost like every word was a struggle to get out.
“Hey man,”
“I’m not alone.”
“No, you’re not.”
“That’s good. I don’t wanna be alone. I feel really bad.”
“What are you talkin’ about man? I’ve been here the whole time? Or, at least since you called.”
“I don’t remember that, sorry.”
“It’s okay, I’m here.”
“Thank you, I’m scared. It doesn’t feel good right now. My head hurts and I think I’m bleeding, I dunno where it’s coming from though.”
“Listen, listen, I'm going to stick with you. It’s okay, I care about you. Michael will be okay.”
“Who's Michael?”
“Who- What? Tubbo, not a time to joke, man.”
“Whose Michael, Tommy?”
“I- He’s your son?”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“I should know that, shouldn’t I?”
“Who am I, Tubbo?”
“What?”
“Who am I?”
“Well, you’re Tommy.”
“Who's Tommy?”
“I- I- don’t know.”
“I’m your friend, I’m your brother at this point.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, I love you. I’m here. I’m glad I could be here so you-”
“I love you too. I think- I think I at least remember that. I want to say it before- I- What was I saying? Who am I talking to?”
“You’re talking to Tommy, I’m your friend.”
“Oh.”
“The radiation must’ve hit your head pretty hard, fuck Tubbo I’m so sorry.”
“Who’s Tubbo?”
“You. You’re Tubbo.”
“Who am I? Am I good?”
“The best. You’re strong and caring and you do your best to help others even when- even when it hurts you. You’re a good dad and you were a good husband. We went through so much together, we lost so much, and you just kept tryin and tryin even when everyone else thought it was futile. I’ve fought beside you since we were kids, man, and I don’t think I’ll ever meet someone as brave as you again.``
“I had a wife?” Tubbo sounds incredulous, Tommy would laugh if the pit in his stomach wasn't so gnawing, if they knew they would see each other again.
“Nah, partner. They were Genderfluid. You guys got together to raise Michael-”
“Who's Michael?”
“Your son. Anyway, you guys were-”
“What are we talking about?”
“Nevermind man, it's okay, I’m here.”
“Why do you sound so upset?”
“You’re dying.”
“Oh. I knew that I think.”
“Yeah.”
“It really hurts. Is it supposed to hurt this much?”
“I- It does sometimes.”
“Will I come back? You seem like a good friend. I want to be your friend. I think people come back sometimes, I think I remember that.”
“No, you won't.”
“Oh. It was good I met you now then.”
The line goes dead.
Tommy sits there for hours, listening to the hum of machines from the other side of the call. He stops trying to listen for Tubbo about an hour in, and sits in his dirt hole listening to the sound of emptiness. He stays there until the communicator dies, knowing Tubbo will never answer another call.