Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Wilbur’s been in this cell for. Well he doesn’t actually know how long.

A really long time.

Long enough that it’s hard to remember what Outside looks like. In here everything is white or black, everything except Wilbur’s skin- which is less pink than it should be, because he’s not exactly healthy these days- and his hair. Not that he gets many chances to see his hair, they like keeping it short.

He’s under no illusions about his purpose here. He was born without mutant genes- they both were, him and-

Wilbur cuts off the thought. He’s alone. He’s been alone for so long. He can’t think about- about him for too long, or he’ll start to go crazy.

He might be close to crazy anyway. After all the tests and experiments, he’s definitely not sane anymore.

But they’ve given up on him at this point, he’s pretty damn sure, anyway. It’s been. A really really long time since they did any kind of tests. Which is… good. Right?

Yeah, that’s good. The tests were bad, they hurt.

But they were something. And now there’s just-

This.

The white cell. The bed with its flat mattress and the toilet and showerhead in the corner and the stupid flimsy gowns and the door that never, never opens. Every so often they feed him, some kind of nutrient paste or liquid or whatever that comes in vials through a tube in the wall.

Wilbur tried going on a hunger strike once. He knows better now. IV fluids and a tube into his stomach are not an experience he wants to repeat, that shit hurt.

So he behaves, he eats his stupid nutrient goop and sleeps when the lights go off and cleans himself when the showerhead turns on and changes whenever a clean gown appears.

He’s nothing more than a rat in a cage, just enduring day after day after day of the same shit. All alone.

~~~

God everything hurts.

Techno drags himself back to consciousness by sheer force of will, because he knows he can’t stay down for too long. He’s gotta get up, he has be the perfect test subject, the perfect experiment, or they’ll hurt Wilbur.

It’s been so long since he’s been with his twin and Techno misses him so much it hurts, so much worse than the physical pain of the training or the drugs they pump into him or the surgeries or the ache and burn of the powers he wasn’t born with.

He hates it all but he has to endure. He has to keep going, he has to be good and obedient or they’ll hurt Wilbur.

Of course, they could have already. Techno doesn’t know. He’s not allowed to see him very often.

He throws off the haze of the drugs and drags himself to his feet, just as the lights flash for a second. A familiar signal and he obeys automatically, turning to face the wall and placing his palms flat against it, either side of his head.

Techno knows the rules. He stays still while they wrench his arms down one at a time, into the cuffs. They’re not gentle, they never are, but things could be worse. Things could always be worse.

He stays silent while one of the scientists takes his vitals. While the guards march him down the hall.

He knows every inch of this place by now, has all the usual routes memorized. They’re taking him to train this morning, he breathes a silent sigh of relief. It could be worse. It could be so much worse.

The floors are cold tile and the walls are stark white. This place is by and large just plain white, even the scientists make an effort to keep every inch of skin covered. The guards wear black, which is a difference but not much of one. It’s still an absence of color.

The only colors Techno sees are the too-pale flush of his skin and the red of his own blood.

Techno keeps his head down and his shoulders rounded, submissive and non-threatening, as they shove him into the training room and uncuff him. They’re not too rough, they don’t have to be. They know that all they have to do to keep him in line is threaten Wilbur.

He hasn’t gotten to be with his twin in. In a long time, since they were grabbed, he thinks. They show Techno live camera feed of Wilbur’s cell, once in a while. Just often enough to keep him compliant, to remind him that they have his brother completely at their mercy.

He snaps out of his thoughts as a handler approaches. He has to be present and obedient, he has to do everything they tell him to.

They’re talking about prepping him to go out in the field.

Techno keeps his gaze obediently fixed on the floor and listens and does what he’s told.

He’s training. He doesn’t need to think right now.

When Techno’s completed his training for the day, they take him to the cafeteria.

That’s what he calls it, anyway, the word dredged up from hazy memories of elementary school. It’s been so many years since they were brought here, Techno doesn’t even know how old he’d be now. He knows how old they were when they were taken but it’s been. It’s been so, so long.

But- cafeteria.

He knows how this goes, it’s routine. They’ll sit him at one of the circular tables and he’ll eat his nutrient goop and then they’ll take him back to his room (his cell) or to the lab for drugs or surgeries. If he’s lucky (astronomically unlucky) they’ll show him Wilbur.

Except today, there’s a deviation.

There’s a kid sitting at one of the tables.

Techno does his best not to freeze up, not to show any kind of surprise or emotion. He’s gotten frighteningly good at that, and they walk him over to sit in his usual place.

It’s been so long since there was another kid in here.

As he eats, Techno subtly studies the new arrival.

He’s skinny. Short- or maybe average height, it depends on how old he is, Techno can’t really tell but he looks young. He’s pale, has shaved hair that might have been blond, and freckles across his nose.

He… he looks a little bit like Wilbur did when they were younger, and Techno’s chest clenches painfully at the thought.

One of the handlers moves closer to the kid and he snaps his teeth at the woman, almost actually biting her. Techno hides a grimace, his face still a stony mask. Keeps his gaze fixed on the goop, trying not to listen to the kid’s raw screams behind him.

For the kid’s sake, Techno hopes he learns the rules quickly.

You stay quiet, you behave, and they- well, it’s not like they won’t hurt you, but the handlers don’t dish out punishments left and right if you’re still and silent and do everything you’re told.

The kid is crying, raspy and hiccuping, when they take Techno down the hall to the lab.

He lets go of awareness as they strap him into the chair, as a needle slips into the crook of his elbow. It’s one of the most important lessons he’s learned in the facility, how to dissociate so completely that he can’t feel what they do to his body during all but the worst experiments and surgeries.

It’s easier this way.

Techno sees the kid again the next day in the cafeteria. He looks worse, there are bruises on his arms that make Techno want to wince sympathetically. He recognizes the shape and pattern of those marks, from the restraints and enhancer injections.

He shouldn’t afford sympathy. Not in here. Not when the only thing that matters is behaving, is being good and doing everything he’s told, so they don’t hurt Wilbur.

But, well- it’s a kid. He can’t be older than twelve or thirteen, not much older than Techno and Wilbur when they were taken here.

Techno tries to focus on eating, but he can’t help hearing the kid mutter to himself. Which is to be expected, his hearing is enhanced apparently past the normal human level. He wants to tell the kid to shut up, not to break the rules, but then Techno would be breaking the rules and he can’t do that.

Luckily the handlers don’t seem to notice, or they just don’t care.

“Just a few days, fucking right, it’s been a few fucking days-” A quiet exasperated sigh. “I’m gonna fucking kill Dad when he gets here.”

Techno keeps his expression utterly neutral, as usual. If he eats a little slower, no one will notice, he does sometimes after tests.

So the kid has people on the outside, they’re not gonna come for him though. Even if they do there’s no way they get out of this.

(Techno can’t let himself think about that, because- because-

no. there’s just the facility. the facility and the training and the experiments and, someday, missions. all for Wilbur, all of it always to keep him safe.)

“Fucking- ow.” The kid hisses, Techno can almost hear his ribs creak. That’s no fun. “I’m gonna sleep for a week.”

One of the handlers finally takes notice. Techno keeps his expression flat and disaffected while the kid screams with the force of the electricity running through his body.

Inwardly, he’s cringing with sympathy.

It only took Techno a few days to learn the most important rule, be quiet. They don’t tase him anymore, they don’t have to.

He swallows the last spoonful of goop and stands when prompted, putting his hands behind him to be cuffed. The kid is crying again when they lead Techno out.

Today they take him down a hall he hasn’t been down in a while, and only Techno’s practiced calm keeps his emotion from showing on his face.

Inside, his heart is leaping.

They jerk him to a stop in front of a screen, blank and empty. Techno knows, he knows what comes after is going to be terrible, is going to be so much worse than the usual, but he can’t think of that in this second.

Because the screen turns on and he can see Wilbur.

His twin looks exactly the same as always. Too thin and too pale, hair cropped so close to his skull there’s no trace of their natural curls. He looks gaunt and sickly but he’s moving, he’s breathing, he’s alive.

He’s sitting in the middle of the cell with a book in his hands. As Techno watches, Wilbur flips a page.

He stares at the screen without blinking for as long as he can. They leave it on for exactly sixty seconds before the feed cuts out and Techno’s staring at his own reflection. He closes his eyes quickly, he doesn’t care to see what he looks like now.

They take him to the lab again.

At some point during the surgery, Techno thinks he might like to die.

~~~

Okay so maybe ‘get kidnapped by the shady government people to infiltrate the shady as shit secret hero program’ was not one of Tommy’s brightest ideas.

But! In his defense, none of them thought it would be anything like this. They thought it was just gonna be some training facility, some kind of indoctrination or conditioning like the others, and he was only supposed to be here for like three or four days before the Syndicate came and got him out.

Well, it’s definitely not just a training facility, and Tommy is really starting to regret taking those power dampeners.

He hopes to god the taser didn’t fry his tracker- his hearing implants are still working, but the audio is fuzzy, staticy. Sam had been pretty adamant that nothing Tommy ran into could deactivate his tech, but Tommy doesn’t know if Sam was exactly counting on them using electricity to torture him.

He keeps talking anyway, in case the implants are still transmitting to his parents.

“-and I’m gonna eat so much food, real food, not this fucking- goop, or whatever shit it is- god, if I never see pudding again it’ll be too fucking soon-”

He cuts off his ramble when the Creepy As Shit guy shifts closer, holding a black box threateningly close to Tommy’s skin. Yeah, he’s not eager to repeat the taser experience.

It’s… what, the seventh day Tommy’s been here? And the third day they’ve brought him into this- like, high school cafeteria or whatever. He’s getting the point pretty quick- shut up and eat your goop or we’ll torture you, blah blah blah.

The other guy sure gets it.

Tommy’s still not sure what’s up with the other guy.

They bring him in a couple minutes after Tommy, just like the other two days. He’s scarily big, there are a lot of scars on his face and his exposed arms, and for some reason his close-cropped hair is pink. He’s wearing scrubs, the lucky bastard, all Tommy has on is this loose hospital gown type deal. Tommy doesn’t even get underwear. Fucking creepy.

But anyway. The other guy.

He seems to have a pretty good grasp of whatever The Rules are. He doesn’t talk, he keeps his head down and his expression scarily blank, he eats his goop like a good little drone. He’s pretty sure the guy doesn’t even flinch when they tase Tommy. Which is rude of him.

Today he looks kind of- off, though. He stumbles and wobbles on his feet, and when they push him down onto the chair he hits with a heavy thud and sits there, swaying.

That’s weird. And really concerning. Tommy hopes his parents get here soon, because the guy does not look like he’s okay.

Tommy eats quietly today, because he really doesn’t want to repeat the experience of having a taser pressed against his skin. Doesn’t want to risk Sam’s tech, because if his tracker gets knocked out then-

Nope. Not thinking about that.

After he cleans his plate, they drag him back to the lab. They tried to make him demonstrate his mutation, the first two days he was here, and thanks to the power dampeners Tommy was basically useless. Which as it turns out was not lucky for him, because his apparent lack of powers got him drugs and pain.

And then the dampeners wore off, and they brought him here.

They strap him into a weird torture chair thing, putting cold metal bands around his arms and ankles, leather around his chest and head. A needle in his arm, a blood draw first and then-

The drugs, the pain, agonizing and constant.

Later, curled up in his cell, alone, Tommy cries.

His throat is raw from screaming and his whole body burns with pain and he just- he just wants to go home. He wants his mom and dad to come and get him like they said they would, they promised, they promised.

He wants to go home.

Boom.

Tommy jerks awake, biting back a scream as pain reignites in his body. That- was that an explosion?

BOOM.

Tommy sobs. Oh thank fuck, that’s Tubbo. That’s Tubbo blowing things up.

‘-omm- -ear -e?’

“Dad,” Tommy sobs, slumping back against the thin mattress at the sound of his dad’s voice over his implants, albeit blurred by static. It’s working, the wireless connection is still working, they found him. They’re coming.

‘ge- -wa- -oor-’

Tommy takes that to mean get away from the door, and obeys promptly, scrambling into the furthest corner and clamping his hands over his head.

BOOM.

He feels the heat of the explosion, the whoosh of air and the resounding thud of the door collapsing. After a second there are hands on him, warm and familiarly calloused, and Tommy sobs as he twists into his father’s arms, as dark wings wrap around him.

“-mmy, baby, look at me, look at me, god-”

Tommy lifts his head and Phil half sobs when Tommy’s gaze meets his.

“Oh, baby. My baby, what did they do to you-”

“’ad,” Tommy croaks, leaning into his hands. “Hurts.”

“Shh, shh, it’s okay now. I’m here, your mom’s here, we’re gonna fix this.”

Tommy wants to cry even harder at that, but he doesn’t, he still has a report to give.

“There-” He coughs, his throat is so dry.

“Shh, don’t try to talk yet.”

Phil reaches away, coming back with a canteen, water. Tommy wants to gulp it down but he knows better, takes slow careful sips until his throat feels better.

“Are you up to moving?” Phil asks when Tommy stops drinking. His voice is strained.

Tommy nods, then shakes his head. “There’s- another guy in here,” he rasps. “Th’nk he’s a prisoner here too. He’s older than me but I don’t know how much.”

Phil nods, gathering Tommy into his arms with surprising ease. “Okay. Okay, we’ll find him,” he murmurs. “You did good, baby. You can rest now.”

~~~

Techno wakes up in the middle of the night.

This, in and of itself, is strange. He’s used to going to sleep and staying out until the lights come on in the morning. What’s even stranger is that he can hear- he can hear explosions.

Instantly he’s on guard, on his feet, ready to- to-

Techno has no goddamn clue what he thinks he’s gonna do.

He’s in his cell. Wilbur is somewhere else, in his, and Techno has no clue where in the facility that is.

He can only wait, swaying on his feet with the dregs of pain in his stomach, the heat of his enhanced healing working to repair the aftermath of the last surgery.

The door opens with a fizzle and pop of electricity and Techno flinches, he hates himself for that, knows they’ll punish Wilbur for it-

“Holy shit, he was right.”

That-

Wait.

That was a voice. An actual human voice, not the scientists’ carefully modulated tones or the handlers’ flat orders.

“Hey, man,” the voice says, and Techno blinks, heart thudding wildly in his chest. It’s- it’s a guy with dark hair and a mask and a colored hat. A- a blue hat. “It’s okay, we’re getting you outta here.”

Techno’s brain stalls.

Out?

His confusion must show, because the guy steps further into the cell, hands held up in front of him in a non-threatening gesture.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he says quietly. “We’re here to rescue you, we’re gonna burn this fucking place to the ground.”

Techno doesn’t- he can hardly dare to believe it. He’s spent so long not wanting to hope that he’d get out, and now- and now-

Wilbur.

He can- he can-

Oh god he can see Wilbur again.

The guy is still there, and he touches something in his ear and says, “Yeah- yeah, no, I found him. Where’s Goddess?”

A pause. Techno stares, chest heaving, still trying to comprehend that there’s a person in his cell.

“No shit?” The guy huffs. “Okay. Okay, I’ll get him and meet you at the rendezvous point.”

The guy moves forward then, holding out his hands. Techno flinches- he shouldn’t do that, he should be impassive and contained as always-

“It’s okay,” the guy says soothingly. “I’m Jester, I’m with the Syndicate, we’re here to rescue you.”

That- it doesn’t make sense. The Syndicate are villains, why are- why are they rescuing him?

“C’mon, we’re gonna take you someplace safe, okay?” Jester comes closer, and he touches Techno’s arms, and gently, gently pulls him forward. It- it doesn’t hurt.

Jester’s leading him down the hall when Techno’s brain finally kicks into gear. He hasn’t spoken in… in… yeah he doesn’t know how long, but he does now.

“Wilbur,” he croaks. “M-my brother, he-”

“We found another kid in a cell,” Jester says, voice oddly soothing. “That’s probably him, we’ll find out when we get to the rendezvous, yeah?”

Techno swallows down his sudden terror- he can’t leave without Wilbur, he doesn’t want to leave if Wilbur can’t come too, if Wilbur is-

He nods slightly.

They don’t run into anyone in the halls, and almost before Techno knows it he’s standing frozen, staring at a gaping hole in the wall.

He- he can feel a breeze. Can see trees and- and grass, faintly illuminated by a whitish glow.

That is- that is Outside. That’s outside.

“C’mon, we gotta keep moving,” Jester says.

Techno takes one deep breath and steps through the hole.

He doesn’t have shoes, and the grass is damp and cold under his feet. He tips his head back and there’s the moon, the stars oh god he never thought he’d see the stars again. Tears burn behind his eyes but he can’t- he can’t cry. He won’t cry.

Jester leads him through the woods and Techno ignores the crack of sticks breaking under his feet, the crunch of dry leaves. He’s outside and he- he got out of the facility, and they’re going to get Wilbur, and they’re going to be together again.

There’s a vehicle- a plane, Techno thinks, sitting in a clearing. Jester guides Techno up into the well-lit interior and-

And there’s a woman kneeling beside a person lying on a stretcher and it’s Wilbur.

Techno trips, stumbles, dropping heavily to his knees beside his twin. Wilbur doesn’t stir or open his eyes and Techno reaches out, he can hardly breathe, he’s gonna- he’s actually gonna get to touch his brother but he can’t make himself get past that last inch out of fear that it’s not real, that Wilbur won’t actually be there-

“Is that your brother?” Jester asks over Techno’s shoulder.

Afraid to break the spell, Techno nods. “He- what did you do to him?” he whispers.

“He’s okay,” the woman says, her voice is soft and warm and the sound of it makes Techno want to cry. “When I got to him, they had him sedated. I’m monitoring his vitals, he’s okay.”

Techno holds his breath. Cautiously, hesitantly, lets his fingers brush his twin’s.

Wilbur’s hand is cold, but Techno can feel his slow, steady heartbeat in his wrist. He sobs, doubling over to carefully rest his ear over Wilbur’s chest, listen to him breathing.

Wilbur is here and Techno is with him and- and they’re outside. They’re alive and they’re out.

A hand settles on his head and Techno stiffens, but the touch is light and gentle, just stroking over his hair.

“Shh, you’re okay,” the woman murmurs. “Your brother’s okay.”

Wilbur is okay. He’s safe, and Techno is touching him.

Techno cries.

~~~

Phil carries Tommy out of the facility, and he just clings to his dad and tries not to break down.

“Are you in pain?” Phil murmurs, tucking Tommy’s head into the crook of his neck.

He sniffles, nodding. Phil’s grip tightens slightly, his emotions flood into Tommy’s mind for a second, a swell of grief and anger and worry. It’s so comforting, after a week away from his parents, when Tommy hasn’t been without one or the other of them for more than a few hours since he was born.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Phil murmurs after a second. “I’m gonna get you back to Kristin, she’ll help.”

He nods again, presses his face into Phil’s neck and tries not to cry.

Almost before he knows it Phil’s going up the ramp into the plane and there’s a soft gasp, Tommy lifts his head to see Kristin rushing over. She hugs him tight for a second, and he leans into his mother’s arms with a choked cry.

“Oh, sweetheart. Oh Tommy, baby.” She cradles his head in both hands, searching his face. “Are you okay? Let me see you, let me see what they did.”

Tommy’s tired and hurting and he’s been so scared, and he sobs. “Mommy,” he whimpers.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay now. It’s okay, mom’s here, baby.” Kristin gently traces the tear tracks on his face, smooths the bruises on his arms, presses a gentle kiss to the place where the needle sat in the crook of his arm. “Oh, my baby, you must’ve been so scared.”

He was. He really was.

“You promised,” he whimpers, it hurts and he was so scared and his parents are here now. “You di-i’n’t come.”

Phil holds him tighter, and Kristin keens, pressing her forehead against Tommy’s. “Oh, Tommy, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she whispers.

“We- the tracker got disrupted,” Phil says, voice breaking. “A couple times, we- we were trying so hard, Toms, I swear.”

“W’nna go home.”

“We’re going home. We’re going home, baby.”

A brief flare of warmth, his mom’s powers, dulls down the pain so Tommy can breathe more easily. Phil carries him over to a seat, setting him down so gently, like Tommy’s made of glass. He kneels there for a minute, pressing love-love-love into Tommy’s mind, holding his hands so carefully between his own palms.

Finally, though, Phil has to move away. He does up the straps to keep Tommy safely in his seat first, soothing Tommy’s whimpers when it feels too close to the restraints on the chair. Then when Tommy’s secure, Phil moves across to- oh, that’s the guy. The guy who Tommy’s pretty sure was getting experimented on too.

He doesn’t look emotionless now, he’s kneeling beside a stretcher where another guy is laying, he seems to be unconscious. First Guy is holding Second Guy’s hand, his other hand cupping his head. First Guy might be crying, Tommy can’t tell, but hey, who’s he to judge?

“Hey, mate,” Phil murmurs, kneeling beside the pair. First Guy startles, but doesn’t let go of Second Guy. “Easy, you’re okay. What’s your name?” Phil’s not even talking to Tommy but he relaxes anyway, just hearing the soft soothing tone knocks tension right out of him, even as shit as the sound quality is.

First Guy is silent for a few seconds. “My- my designation is Asset Blade,” he rasps.

Phil gives a neutral hum. “Do you know your name?”

More silence. A whisper, inaudible to Tommy.

“Hi, Techno,” Phil murmurs. “It’s nice to meet you, I wish it were under better circumstances.” Phil doesn’t make any moves towards them. “Who’s this?”

The guy- Techno- curls more protectively over the other guy. “My- his name’s Wilbur,” he whispers. “Please- please don’t-”

“Easy,” Phil murmurs. “It’s okay, Techno, you’re both safe now.” He shifts, not moving closer. “Is he your brother?”

Techno freezes for a second. Nods, and even from the opposite side of the plane Tommy can see the tears in his eyes. “Please don’t hurt him,” he breathes. “I- I’ll do anything you want-”

Kristin squats in front of Tommy, opening the med kit. He closes his eyes, biting back a whimper as she lifts his bruised wrist.

“Nobody’s getting hurt,” Phil’s saying gently. “We’re gonna take you back to our base and take care of you, it’s all gonna be okay now.”

See, the thing is, the Syndicate is officially labeled as a terrorist group, as villains. But the thing about that is, the heroes are worse. For fuck’s sake, the goddamn government was behind the Shady As Shit Secret Hero Program.

So when Phil says nobody’s getting hurt, Tommy wants Techno to be able to believe that. Because it’s true, nobody’s gonna hurt them. None of them.

“Please don’t hurt him,” Techno repeats, but his voice is weaker now, like he’s giving up. “Please I’ll do anything, just don’t hurt Wilbur-”

“It’s okay,” Tommy says, surprising himself. His throat still kind of hurts. He presses on, anyway. “We’re safe now.”

Even more of a surprise, Techno looks up, meeting his gaze.

“He’s my dad,” Tommy croaks. He bites back a wince as Kristin gently rubs salve onto his bruises. “They came to get me, we’re gonna go home.”

Kristin presses on his ribs then, and Tommy chokes on a cry. She pauses briefly, letting him catch his breath.

“I’m sorry baby, I know it hurts.” Kristin pulls his head in to press their foreheads together. “We can’t let you have any painkillers yet, not until whatever they gave you is out of your system.”

Tommy sniffles, nodding. He knows there’s only so much pain his mom’s powers can block, he expected he’d have to wait. “’kay.”

“Hey,” Phil’s saying gently. “I know you’re scared, Techno. I know you’ve been through a lot, I can’t even begin to imagine how much, but it’s all over now. You and Wilbur are safe now. We’re not gonna let anyone hurt you, not ever again.”

Tommy blinks hard, looking past Kristin, Techno’s staring at him again. His red eyes are weird and a little unsettling, but Tommy stares right back.

“It’s okay,” Tommy repeats. “I don’t know what they told you but we- we’re not the bad guys. If anybody’s the bad guys it was them.”

Techno doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t start begging again, either.

Phil shifts, hands still open on his knees, palms up. “How old are you?” he asks gently.

Techno shudders, closing his eyes. “D’nno,” he mutters.

Tommy hisses in pain again as Kristin places an ice pack over his ribs. She croons, soft and wordless, pulling him back in for a second.

Phil inhales deeply. “How old were you when you first got to the facility?” he asks.

A long pause. Tommy tries to relax as the ice pack starts to numb the ache of his cracked ribs.

“Ten,” Techno breathes. “We were ten.”

Tommy gasps and Kristin flinches at the sorrow-anger-ANGER that crashes through Phil and, by extension, the two of them. He reins it in after a second, but Tommy’s still shaken, trembling as he leans into his mom’s steady hands.

“I’m sorry,” Phil whispers. “God, I’m so sorry, Techno.”

“They- we were walking home from school.” Techno’s voice sounds terrible but he keeps talking anyway. “They grabbed us and- and took us here.”

“I’m so sorry,” Phil murmurs. “Oh, you were just little. Do you… will your parents be looking for you?”

“We were fosters,” Techno whispers. “We-” He shudders. “No one’s looking for us.”

“Oh, mate.” Phil still sounds so sad. “We’re gonna take care of you now. I promise, you’re gonna be okay.”

As soon as they get back to base, Phil goes with the twins, and Kristin carries Tommy down to medical. Turns off the implants when he winces at the bursts of static the extra tech causes.

And Tommy would protest- he usually hates medical- but he’s still hurting from the drugs and the tasing. And, besides, he doesn’t want his mom to get mad at him. She can be scary when she’s mad.

“Will talk tomorrow,” Kristin signs, to keep Tommy distracted while Niki draws his blood. “Rest now, you did well, baby.”

Tommy closes his eyes for a second, nodding. Niki squeezes his arm lightly.

“Two more,” Niki signs.

“’m not gonna have any blood left,” he grumbles. Hopes his voice is quiet.

Kristin presses her lips to Tommy’s forehead, running her fingers gently over his shaved hair before pulling back to sign some more. “Doing great. Almost done, then you can shower and go to sleep.”

He’s so tired. He sighs, letting his eyes slip closed.

Kristin jostles his head slightly, and he blinks at her. “Stay awake,” she signs. “Little more.”

Tommy blinks, holding his head up. “M’kay.”

Niki takes off the tourniquet. After a second she removes the needle and replaces it with a wad of gauze in one fluid motion. Kristin shifts to hold the gauze in place.

“I’m tired,” Tommy signs, hands clumsy with exhaustion. “Everything hurts.”

Kristin makes a soft pained sound, kisses his forehead again. “Sorry, baby. We shouldn’t have let you go in.”

“It’s okay.” Tommy shrugs. “You came for me.”

The door opens again, and Tommy holds out his hands to his dad before he’s consciously registered the sight of blond hair and worried eyes. Phil comes over and wraps them both in his arms and wings and Tommy relaxes, warm and safe in his parents’ embrace.

Phil cups his face. “There you are,” he says, slowly, so Tommy can read his lips. “There’s my boy, you’re okay now.”

Kristin rubs Tommy’s back gently. “So sleepy, baby, aren’t you?”

He nods, reaching out for Phil. His dad scoops him up, and Kristin walks right along beside them, stroking Tommy’s head gently.

“Talked to you.” Tommy’s arms feel so heavy. “Wasn’t sure it was working.”

Phil’s breath hitches, and a wash of grief hits Tommy, just for a few seconds. “Yeah, mate,” he says. “We heard you.”

Tommy hums, leaning his head more heavily on his dad’s shoulder. “Didn’t like me talking.” He hesitates over the word taser, settling on signing, “Electric box a couple times. Hurt.”

Kristin leans over, kissing his forehead. “We know, sweetheart. I know, we heard you.”

“Sorry.”

“No. No, what for?”

He takes a deep breath, gets his answer out slowly and clumsily. “Screaming. Tried to hold out.”

“Oh, Toms, no.” Phil’s still speaking slowly. “We were so scared for you, baby, but you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Tears slide down his cheeks, and Kristin wipes them away gently. Almost before Tommy knows it they’re in their apartment.

He keeps zoning out, but he gets… flashes.

Warm bathwater, Phil’s hands gently washing the sweat and blood off Tommy’s body.

Clean clothes, so soft. Fingers running over his head, slow and smooth and gentle.

Arms wrapped around him, the warmth and the softness of the blanket easing the tension out of his body. His mom, one palm cupping his cracked ribs, small washes of her power keeping the pain at bay; his dad, soft feathers brushing Tommy’s bare arms.

He curls up between his parents and goes to sleep.

Chapter Text

Wilbur doesn’t feel good.

His head feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton and he feels so heavy and he can’t… he can’t think clearly.

He gets his eyes open for a second, just slightly, just long enough to see a man’s face, framed by blond hair and smiling softly, hovering over him.

That… that’s not right.

“Shh, go back to sleep, mate,” the man murmurs, and tears pool in Wilbur’s eyes. The man’s voice is so kind and he’s been alone for so long. “You’re safe now, your brother’s safe, you’re both okay.”

Wilbur can’t really comprehend the words but the voice is nice, and he’s tired, and he tumbles back into unconsciousness.

He wakes up to dry mouth and soft light and something touching him.

Wilbur takes a deep breath, trying to open his eyes, and beside him there’s a quick sharp inhale. The grip on his hand tightens.

“…Wil?”

It’s a whisper, barely there, but it still makes Wilbur start to cry. No one’s said his name in so long, so long.

“Wilbur, please.” The voice is a little louder now, but horribly raspy. “Please wake up. Please say something.”

Speaking… he could talk, right? He still knows how.

“Wh’ ‘ap’n’d?” he mumbles, mouth uncooperative.

There’s a harsh sob, the back of his hand is pressed to warm skin. “Wilbur,” the voice sobs. “Wil.”

He opens his eyes and- and there’s a stranger sitting beside him, a man with close-cropped pink hair and red eyes that almost glow and a scar across his face. He looks like he’s about a second away from bursting into tears.

“Who…” Wilbur frowns slightly. “Wh’re?”

“It- it’s me. It’s me, Wil.” The man’s breath hitches, and he presses Wilbur’s hand harder against his face. “We’re safe, we’re safe now.”

Wilbur doesn’t really have the energy to deal with that. He tumbles back into sleep.

He wakes up again and, this time, is immediately fully conscious.

The stranger is still there, sitting beside him, holding his hand. He looks like he’s sleeping, slumped in the chair. Wilbur glances around, fear gripping his heart and speeding up his breathing as he realizes he doesn’t know where he is.

This- this isn’t his cell. The light is dimmer and the walls are painted a pale soft green and he’s lying on something soft. Blissfully, incredibly soft.

It’s not enough to reassure him.

Where is he, if he’s not in the lab then where’s Techno, what did they do to him-

The man stirs, taking a deep breath, and Wilbur flinches, bites back a whimper of fear. The grip on his hand tightens.

“Wil,” the man croaks, sitting up straight. “Are you- are you awake?”

Wilbur can’t reply, he’s frozen in terror. He wants- he wants Techno , he wants something, anything familiar, even if it’s the cell-

“You’re okay. You’re okay, it’s okay, we’re safe.” The man sobs, pressing Wilbur’s knuckles against his lips. “Wil, Wilbur, talk to me please-”

“Who- who ‘re you?” Wilbur coughs, his throat hurts. “Wh’re’s Teh’no?”

The man makes a sound like he’s been wounded, hot tears dripping on Wilbur’s arm. “I’m right here,” he chokes out. “It- it’s me, Wil, I’m here. I’m right here.”

“I don’t- what?” Wilbur pulls his hand free, ignoring the man’s pained sob. He sits up, putting as much distance between them as he can. Which isn’t a lot because he’s backed up against the wall. “You don’- you don’t look like my brother.”

“I know,” the man breathes. “I know, I- they changed me. The powers.” His breath hitches painfully. “But I- I swear it’s me, Wil, I- I’ve been waiting so long to be with you again- please, it’s me, it’s Techno. Please just-” He reaches out and grabs Wilbur’s hand again, holding it against his chest. “Please just see me,” he gets out, voice so soft and broken.

Wilbur can’t breathe. He- he doesn’t look like Techno, he’s bigger than Wilbur is and his hair is pink and he- he has red eyes, and yeah they haven’t seen each other since they were ten but he’s pretty sure Techno had brown hair and brown eyes, like Wilbur did. Does. He doesn’t know.

“Please, Wilbur.” The man sobs. “I- look, it’s me, I have- they tried to cover it up but they couldn’t, look-”

He tugs down his shirt to expose his collarbone, the birthmark there shaped like a four-pointed star. Exactly the same despite the raised scars across it.

Wilbur’s chest hitches, he can’t- no, that can’t be possible-

“Techno?” he whispers, he doesn’t dare to hope, it can’t be-

“It’s me. It’s me, it’s Techno.”

“Please, I can’t take it if this isn’t real.” Wilbur sobs, holding out his arms, begging wordlessly for a hug-

Techno sobs, raw and aching, and then he’s holding Wilbur, he’s holding him, and Wilbur clings to him with all his strength. Which is very, very little.

For a long, long time, they both just sit there and cling to each other and cry.

“I thought- I thought I was never gonna see you again,” Wilbur rasps at last, he’s practically sitting in Techno’s lap, his head resting on his twin’s collarbone. He’s so exhausted, but he can’t go to sleep yet. He needs to stay awake because Techno’s here, he’s here, and Wilbur doesn’t want it to end.

“They- they had a camera in your cell,” Techno says. “Every so often they would- before big tests or procedures they would show me some of the live feed. To keep me obedient.”

That- that is creepy as all hell, but Wilbur’s stuck on procedures. “What… what did they do to you?” he whispers.

Techno’s chest heaves under him. “So much,” he breathes.

Wilbur tangles his fingers in Techno’s loose t-shirt. “Tell me?”

“I don’t- it hurt.” Techno puts his head down on Wilbur’s with a soft whimper. “It hurt so much.”

Wilbur twists to look up at him, Techno looks so different than he remembers. “Your powers, you- you got a power?”

He flinches. “Two,” he whispers. “I can travel in shadows and- and manipulate blood.”

“How?”

“They did- they were doing genetic experiments.” Techno’s breath hitches. “They- I had to do a lot- a lot of training. And there were so- so many surgeries.”

Wilbur’s heart twists painfully at the thought of someone- of someone cutting into his brother. “Techno,” he breathes.

“If it- if it hadn’t been for you, knowing you were alive, I-” Techno goes silent, pressing his face against Wilbur’s head.

“I wanted to die.” Wilbur unconsciously digs his fingers into Techno’s chest, his twin doesn’t even flinch. “I… tried, once, but they wouldn’t le-et me.”

Techno takes a few ragged, heaving breaths. “They needed you alive to- keep me from trying to fight.”

“I thought you were gone.” Another sob punches out of Wilbur’s chest. “I just- I wanted to die, I didn’t want to- to live without you.”

“I couldn’t have either.” Techno’s voice sounds raw. “The only thing that kept me going was- was knowing you were alive.”

Wilbur whines softly, it hurts. It hurts so much and he holds Techno tighter and Techno’s arms wrap tighter around him, all but crushing him with the pressure.

“I missed you so much,” Wilbur chokes out.

Techno doesn’t say anything, but there are hot tears falling on Wilbur’s head, Techno’s chest is shaking under him, and Wilbur holds on all the tighter.

~~~

Techno wakes up, and for one terrifying instant he doesn’t know where he is.

Then the weight on him shifts, a soft sigh puffs against his neck, and he remembers.

Wilbur.

Carefully, oh-so-carefully Techno tightens his arms around his twin. He’s taller than Wilbur is now, and stronger. A lot stronger. Wilbur feels brittle in his arms, like he could fall to pieces at any second. Like if Techno squeezes too tight, he’ll just snap Wilbur in half.

Wilbur inhales sharply, goes completely still. He’s holding his breath, and Techno tightens his grip a little more.

“It’s me,” he says, voice barely a whisper. “It’s me, Wil, it’s Techno.”

Wilbur goes limp, pressing his face into Techno’s neck. “T’ch,” he breathes. “’m I dreaming?”

Tears burn his eyes, and Techno holds them back by instinct, he can’t- no, no, they’re out. He can cry.

“No,” he whimpers, chest hitching with a sob. “We’re together, you’re not dreaming. I’m here.”

Wilbur whines, high and pained, fingers wrapping tight around a handful of Techno’s shirt. “Please, please I don’t want to wake up-”

There’s a knock on the door, and that jolts both of them out of their emotional outbursts.

Wilbur freezes completely, breathing shallow and too-fast. Automatically Techno stands, turning to face the wall-

His hands are rising to bracket his head when he hears the voice, the man’s voice, warm and quiet.

“You don’t have to do that, Techno.”

He… right. Because he’s not in the facility anymore.

Techno slowly turns around, still half-expecting his arms to be wrenched behind him, wrists cuffed roughly at the small of his back. Instead of black-clad guards he’s facing the man with the blond hair and the dark wings and the kind smile.

“Good morning,” he says. His gaze falls on Wilbur. “Oh,” he adds, “hey, Wilbur. It’s good to see you awake.”

Wilbur flinches, a high frightened whine leaving his throat, and Techno doesn’t have to think before dropping down on the bed, dragging Wilbur into his arms and caging him in safely. He knows- he knows it’s illogical to think they’re going to take Wilbur away from him now, that if they wanted to they would’ve done it already, but still.

Wilbur clings on just as tight, fingers digging into Techno’s collarbone hard enough to bruise. Not that Techno cares. He’s got Wilbur here and safe in his arms and that’s all that matters.

“It’s okay,” the man murmurs. “I know you don’t trust me, I know you’re scared. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Wilbur whines again, curling tighter against Techno, who twists to put Wilbur closer to the wall. Techno can still hear the echo of his twin’s screams as the guards pulled them apart so long ago and he can’t breathe, he can’t-

-se don’t let them take me please techno please don’t let go-

“I have you,” Techno breathes, he could swear that’s Wilbur’s voice in his head. “I have you, I won’t let go-”

“Breathe,” the man says. “You’re okay, you’re both okay, no one’s separating you. Take a few deep breaths, alright?”

And it’s so ingrained in him to obey that he does, breathing slow and deep, trying again when the first few stutter and stick in his chest. After a minute Wilbur copies, dropping his head to rest on Techno’s chest over his heart.

“Good,” the man murmurs. “You’re doing great, you’re okay. You’re safe now.”

-please don’t let go please i can’t i need you-

“I’m here.” Techno hunches over, resting his head on Wilbur’s. “I’m not lettin’ go.”

Wilbur’s breath hitches, and his voice in Techno’s head screams for an instant.

-PLEASE i’m so scared-

Techno inhales slowly, deeply, pressing one hand over Wilbur’s other ear, trying to make it so all he can hear is Techno’s heartbeat and his breathing. It seems to work, gradually Wilbur slumps in Techno’s arms, breaths evening out.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” the man says, when Techno looks over at him. “I know this is a lot. We don’t expect you to be okay right away, or for a long time.” His smile is so sad. “We’re not gonna separate you, and we’ll try not to ask you to do anything you’re not comfortable with or don’t want to do.”

Wilbur sniffles, pressing his nose against Techno’s collarbone.

“I know that might take a long time to feel true, and that’s okay, too. We’re willing to wait as long as you need to feel safe.”

“Why?” Techno chokes out.

The man sinks to the floor, wings lowering. “Because you’re just kids,” he says. “You deserve to be taken care of, you deserve to be safe.”

The word kids sticks in Techno’s mind, he doesn’t know… “I don’t know how old we are,” he mutters.

“I know.” The man sighs quietly. “We’re gonna try to figure that out for you, okay?”

Techno hunches more protectively over Wilbur as his twin whimpers, hiding his face in Techno’s shirt again. The man shifts.

“Anyway, I came to introduce myself, and to ask you a couple questions,” he says. “My name is Phil, my wife Kristin and I help run the Syndicate. The government calls us villains, but we’re just trying to help people. That’s all our group has ever tried to do.”

“Was-” Techno chokes on the question, it still doesn’t feel okay to ask. But Phil’s eyes are nothing but patient.

“Were they the ones who hurt us?” Techno whispers. “The government? They ran the facility?”

“Yes,” he says. “I’m so, so sorry. We’ve only known about that place for a couple of months now, if we’d known you were in there we would’ve tried to get in sooner.”

That… is strange. They would’ve done that for- for Wilbur and Techno? Two kids they don’t even know?

“Anyway, are you hungry?” Phil asks after a minute.

Techno’s brain stalls.

He- he hadn’t even thought about that. About- food. Real actual food, god, he doesn’t even remember what that would taste like.

“We- we can eat?” Wilbur croaks, lifting his head slightly.

“Of course.” Phil shifts. “We’re gonna start nice and easy to make sure your bodies can handle it after being deprived for so long, but yeah, you can eat.”

“Do we… have to leave the room?” Techno whispers.

“No, we can bring you anything you need in here, if you’re more comfortable with that. For now, we’re gonna take everything nice and slow.”

Phil brings them two cups filled with a cloudy, brownish liquid. Wilbur cowers into Techno’s side when he gets too close, and Techno has to fight the urge to hunch, to make himself seem submissive and small. He takes the cups and sniffs at one, it smells familiar but he doesn’t know… what it is.

“That’s beef broth,” Phil says quietly. “It’ll be easier on your stomachs while you’re getting used to regular food again. Small sips,” he adds.

Wilbur reaches for the second cup, but his hand shakes and Techno worries he’s gonna spill it, so he sets his own on the nightstand. Guides Wilbur to take short sips, slowly, until the cup is empty. Wilbur doesn’t protest, leaning into him when Techno supports his head.

Phil’s pulled a chair into the room, and he sits and flips through a book while Techno sips his own broth. It tastes- oh god does it taste. It’s so good, he can hardly resist chugging it all down at once. But Phil said to go slow so he does, because there is nothing Techno does better than follow orders.

Wilbur tucks his face back into Techno’s neck and just rests there, the physical contact is almost overwhelming after so long but it’s- this is Wilbur. This is Techno’s twin and he wants to never let go.

He doesn’t mind Phil sitting there. Being observed, constantly, is something Techno’s used to.

When he sets his own cup down, Techno feels… good. Better than he has for a long, long time, he thinks. Phil gives them another smile, closing his book and resting his hands on his knees, palms up.

“Good job,” he says quietly. “I know you’ve had a stressful morning, would you like to get some rest?”

Techno could keep going all day, he supposes they don’t know that though. He shrugs.

“I know this might be hard,” Phil says, and Techno braces himself, holds Wilbur tighter- “We know what happened to Tommy in there, and I can only assume the two of you went through something similar. So I wouldn’t ask you to do this if it weren’t really important.”

Techno doesn’t flinch, doesn’t draw back. He is a soldier, he is good. He is obedient. Especially because Wilbur is here in his arms, fragile and so easily hurt, and Techno won’t do anything to risk them hurting Wilbur.

He clears his throat. “Yes, sir?”

Phil’s expression pinches for an instant. “We want to run a few quick medical tests,” he says, and Techno does flinch then, because they promised- they promised not to hurt him and Wilbur, they keep saying- and was it a lie, was it all a lie to get them to cooperate-

“They won’t hurt,” Phil says. “We just want to make sure you’re physically healthy, both of you.”

It takes a few seconds for Techno to get his voice to work. “I- I am in prime condition,” he says dully, it’s the words the scientists always used, Asset Blade is in prime physical condition. “I was going to be mission ready soon.”

“I’m sure you are, by their standards.” Phil’s still looking at him with that sad smile. “But Techno, there’s a difference between being in fighting condition and being healthy. And I don’t think your brother is either of those things.”

Wilbur hasn’t stirred in a few minutes- he’s asleep, Techno realizes. He shouldn’t have worn himself out from just the couple of things they’ve done this morning- they haven’t even left the bed.

And that realization brings worry and utter terror crashing down on him, and Techno’s grip tightens. He could- he could still lose Wilbur. They got out but Wilbur could get sick and- and he could die-

“Breathe,” Phil says, and Techno does, he can do that. “The tests won’t hurt, we’ll explain everything we’re doing, and we’ll let the two of you at least hold hands the whole time, I promise. We won’t separate you.”

Techno should not trust this. Shouldn’t trust Phil. He’s been through so many tests, so damn many, he knows what those are like and he hates them, he hates them so much.

But Wilbur. Wilbur is weak, and Techno’s strength can’t protect him from illness or injuries.

“It won’t hurt?” he whispers.

“The blood draw might, a little-”

“I’m used to those,” Techno says, realizing a second too late that he interrupted, and that can’t be okay, surely-

“Okay,” Phil murmurs, apparently not even noticing how Techno’s curled tighter around Wilbur, shielding him, because the smart thing to do would be to punish Wilbur for Techno’s slip-up. “We can use a numbing spray to make it hurt less.”

He pauses, leaning forward. Techno tries not to flinch, but he tucks Wilbur’s face a little more out of sight.

“I know this is scary, mate,” Phil says gently. “I wouldn’t ask you to do this unless it was really important.”

His throat works, it takes a few seconds to get the word out. “Okay.”

“I know you don’t trust me yet, and I know you won’t be able to believe me when I make promises to you. And that is okay.” Phil shifts. “But I promise, I swear on my life, Techno, you and Wilbur will be safe. If you’re really not comfortable with something, you can tell us, and we will stop.”

He’s right- Techno doesn’t trust Phil, he can’t. Trusting people has never worked out for them, the only person Techno trusts right now is Wilbur and maybe, maybe that kid who was in the facility with them. The one who told him these people were good.

But Wilbur is sleeping against his chest, he’s fragile and shaky and weak, and Techno can’t, he can’t lose Wilbur again.

“Okay,” he breathes, closing his eyes for a second. “Okay, we- we can do the tests.”

~~~

In the med bay, Phil watches the twins carefully.

Wilbur’s awake again and clinging to Techno, looking like he’s near tears. Techno is stoic, but Phil can see how his hands shake, how he clutches at his twin.

Tommy’s here, too, he thought it might make the twins less scared if he went through the tests first. Phil didn’t want to let him, but Tommy is quite strong-willed. Even when he’s still on enforced rest and tired after the surgery yesterday to replace his damaged implants.

“Okay,” Phil says, drawing the attention of all three boys- signing, for Tommy’s benefit, because he’s not allowed to turn on the implants until his head heals. “Techno, Wilbur, this is Niki. She’s our doctor.”

Niki’s wearing green scrubs with flowers on them, because Phil saw enough of that place to suspect that white might be a trauma trigger for the twins. Which is also why they’re in a side room, usually used as an office. The walls are blue and the tiled flooring is light gray and there’s a big window set in one wall.

The twins don’t look much more relaxed, but Phil expects that. They’ve just come out of some place, some thing horrible and inhumane, it’s natural for them to be stressed and tense.

“I’ll tell you exactly what I’m going to do before I do it, and I’ll demonstrate on Tommy first, so you can get an idea of how it might feel,” Niki says, keeping her tone gentle. “If you’re not comfortable with something, you can tell me, and I will stop as quickly as I can, okay?”

Techno nods slightly; Wilbur clings to him tighter.

Niki does the standard surface checks first. The twins seem okay with the stethoscope and pulse oximeter and the forehead thermometer; Techno holds his brother’s hand tighter when the blood pressure cuff goes on, but he doesn’t ask them to stop.

And then she does the blood draw.

Niki only draws one vial from Tommy, because he’d had tests the other night and doesn’t need more done. “I’m going to fill five of these for each of you,” she explains, showing the twins the vial. “I’ll use this spray to numb the area on your arm where I’m going to draw blood, so it won’t hurt as much.”

“I’ll be first,” Techno says, shoving his left arm forward and holding Wilbur’s hands tighter with his right.

Niki takes his arm gently, inhales sharply. Phil steps closer, staring at the bruises and the scarring in Techno’s inner elbow.

“Oh, mate,” he murmurs, heart aching. Every time he thinks it’s not possible to feel more grief and anger over what was done to the twins, something else comes to light.

“May I see your other arm?” Niki asks.

Techno flinches. “Other one’s worse,” he mutters, “too many scars.”

Niki inhales, exhales steadily. “Okay,” she says. “I’m gonna put the spray on now, it’ll feel really cold, but then it’ll numb the area so you don’t feel the needle, okay?”

Techno gives a short nod, staring straight across the room.

And another thing to grieve, Phil watches Techno’s eyes go blank as Niki inserts the needle. Wilbur must notice, too, because he makes a little worried sound, tugging on Techno’s free hand. Techno doesn’t respond.

“Seems like he’s dissociating,” Phil murmurs, his heart aches at the knowledge of why, exactly, he would be doing that.

Phil’s seen this kind of thing before, dissociating as a way to avoid being physically present while your body is being hurt. If Tommy’s report is indicative of what Techno experienced in there, it’s likely he learned the tactic to cope with the pain.

When Niki removes the tourniquet and the needle, Phil steps closer to hold the gauze in Techno’s elbow. Techno still doesn’t move, blinking straight ahead at the wall.

“Techno?” Phil keeps his hold exclusively on Techno’s arm, despite how he longs to wrap the young man up in wings and arms and hold him close. “Mate, can you hear me?”

Wilbur tugs on his hand again, he’s starting to look more anxious. “Techno,” he whimpers. “Tech please, I’m scared.”

And Phil opens his mouth to say it’s not going to be that easy, because it usually isn’t, it shouldn’t be, but Techno blinks a little faster. Within a few minutes- much less than the at least twenty Phil would’ve estimated- he’s frowning, trying to pull Wilbur closer.

Wilbur goes easily, tucking his face into Techno’s neck and clinging to his shirt with both hands.

Whatever it is he’s doing, it works, because within less than fifteen minutes, Techno’s giving coherent- if slightly delayed- answers to the questions Niki asks.

For now they avoid the topic of what just happened, and focus on getting through Wilbur’s blood draw. Which is harder, he definitely hasn’t developed the same coping mechanism, and every whine or flinch of pain makes Techno hold his twin tighter. Phil keeps Wilbur’s arm steady, talks quietly the whole time about how well they’re both doing and how close they are to being done with it.

When Niki’s finished with Wilbur, she pulls Phil out into the hall so they can talk. Kristin and Puffy join them- they’ve probably been behind the one way glass, invisible from inside the room, the whole time. Tommy stays in the room, curling up in a big chair in the corner and putting his head down on his arms.

“I should’ve waited and done that last, I suppose.” Niki’s face is drawn. “I still want to do x-rays at some point, but I don’t know if we should do that today, not when they’re so stressed.”

It almost feels like they’re discussing a pair of wild animals- they might as well be, though, the twins have been through things they can’t even begin to understand and need to be handled with that kind of delicate caution.

“Probably for the best,” Phil agrees.

Kristin wraps her arm around his waist, leaning against him. “How do they seem, overall?” she asks.

“I won’t know about potential drug effects or long-term issues till I get their bloodwork back. Just off the information I have…” Niki shrugs. “Techno seems in fairly good shape, physically. Wilbur is okay, but not thriving by any means- I wouldn’t say either of them is, to be fair, but Wilbur definitely has not been receiving the same standard of care.”

“Good diet and exercise, going forwards?” Phil guesses.

“And intensive psychotherapy,” Puffy puts in. “From what I could pick up on, they’re both experiencing severe separation anxiety, to say nothing of the trauma and complex PTSD.” She glances at Kristin. “Do we have an idea of how long…?”

Her face hardens, and Kristin practically spits out the answer. “Seven years.”

Phil can’t suppress a gasp. They are just kids, still, they’re only seventeen- oh god, who would do something so horrific to children?

Well, that’s a stupid question. Probably the government scientists locked in the cells under Syndicate headquarters.

He wonders, again, how the world can call the Syndicate villains.

~~~

“I was usually alone.”

Techno’s arms tighten around him. It kind of hurts, but Wilbur just wants his twin to hold him, he doesn’t care how much it hurts.

Wilbur tries to keep talking, his throat hurts and words feel strange in his mouth but he wants to talk to Techno, he wants to tell him everything. Wants to know everything they did to Techno.

“I- they did tests on me for a while. Drugs and- and stuff.” Wilbur takes a shaky breath, nudging his head under Techno’s chin. “Then it stopped and- and they put me in that room and didn’t let me out.”

Techno takes a slow breath, rubbing his chin against the top of Wilbur’s head. “They- the tests got worse after I got my powers.”

“There was one- like, scientist, who- he brought me books. A tablet, one time, to play some games.” Wilbur closes his eyes, a shuddering exhale escaping him. “D’nno what happened to him after he stopped coming. I thought for sure they were- were gonna beat me or some shit but they didn’t. Didn’t even take the stuff.”

Techno runs his hand over the back of Wilbur’s head, down his back. Wilbur breathes slowly, he feels secure and safe here, with his twin caging him in from the front and the wall at his back and a soft mattress under him. Maybe he shouldn’t be so at ease but Techno is here and Wilbur thought he was never gonna see him again.

“They knew if they hurt you I wouldn’t behave,” Techno breathes.

“Did they. They ever threaten you?”

He shudders. “No. Just- just you. Said if I- if I disobeyed they’d punish you. And I couldn’t-” His breath hitches. “Couldn’t let that happen.”

“Were you alone?” Wilbur nestles closer, he’s cold and Techno is so warm. “I mean- other than them.”

Another shudder. “There were. A couple other kids. But I knew to- to be quiet. They didn’t. The guards used- tasers. A lot. They usually got quiet after the first couple times. And then they all disappeared and it was just me for a while.”

Techno must notice that Wilbur’s starting to shiver because he pulls a blanket up over both of them, tucking it tight around Wilbur. He revels in the closeness, in being in his brother’s arms, he’s not alone anymore. He’s not alone.

“I missed you,” Wilbur whimpers.

Techno sobs, dry and aching. “It- the best and worst days were when they let me see you. Cause I could see you but then they would do a- a really bad test or surgery and- I knew I just had to get through cause otherwise they’d hurt you.”

Wilbur gets one arm around his twin and holds on. Just holds on.

“Do you remember what the sky looks like?” Wilbur breathes, in the dark.

He doesn’t know why he just keeps talking. Maybe because the silence hurts too much, makes him feel like he’s in his cell.

Techno doesn’t ask him to stop even though Wilbur keeps waking him up, he must be. It’s so late but Wilbur’s not tired and he doesn’t know why.

“Kind of,” Techno mumbles. “Saw it a little wh’n they brought me out. ‘s dark ‘n’ there were stars out.”

Wilbur tries to remember what the stars look like. “Did we… we used to do that? Look at the stars together?”

“Mm.” Techno takes a deeper breath, his arm is heavy and warm where it’s slung over Wilbur’s waist. “It’s hard to remember.”

“I used to miss the grass.”

“I miss snow.”

“Clouds.”

Techno hums. “Clouds.”

Wilbur stares at the ceiling in the dark. “Color,” he breathes. “I really- really missed color. And clothes.”

They gave him real clothes after the tests, boxers and a loose soft shirt and pants. A yellow shirt and blue pants, and Techno’s wearing the same kind of clothes only his shirt is blue and his pants are green and there’s a little pig pattern on the pants in pink. There’s so much color everywhere and Wilbur doesn’t think he’s seen white since they got back to this room.

This room. Their room? He supposes it’s probably theirs right now. Phil keeps saying no one will make them leave each other and Wilbur thinks he would just die if someone took Techno away again.

Anyway they’ve been in here for a whole day, and there’s a window but Wilbur hasn’t dared to go over and look out yet. He still feels like it can’t be real, like this can’t be Techno holding him. He doesn’t look like Techno but he- he just feels right, Wilbur doesn’t know how to explain it.

“They made you wear those- like, hospital gowns all the time?” Techno moves his arm, taking Wilbur’s hand. It feels weird, the way Techno moves around the tendons and veins under his fragile skin.

“Mm-hm.”

“I had- like, loose pants and shirts.”

“Were you training? With your powers.”

Techno nods. “Every morning. They wanted me to- to go do missions.” His breath hitches. “They were gonna make me hurt people.”

Wilbur twitches, he can’t… he doesn’t want to think about Techno hurting anyone.

“Did you know they had a camera?” Techno asks after a minute.

Wilbur shrugs one shoulder, turning his head sideways to look at Techno. His eyes do glow, a little, just enough to be visible in the darkness. It probably shouldn’t be comforting but it is.

“I guessed.” Wilbur holds Techno’s gaze, this- this is his brother, his twin who doesn’t look like him anymore but then Wilbur doesn’t really know what he looks like anymore. “They- if I didn’t do what they wanted when they wanted, they’d make me. Before too long I just did it.”

Techno hums, blinking slowly. “Said you tried to-”

Wilbur shudders, rolls onto his side again to be closer to Techno. “Die. Didn’t eat for. A while, d’nno how long. They strapped me to my bed and- and put a tube down my throat and fed me through it. They kept me like that for a while. After that I just did what they wanted.”

He hated it, it hurt, and he didn’t understand why they wouldn’t just let him die. And now he knows, he knows they kept him alive to manipulate Techno, and maybe it’s selfish but Wilbur wishes he had died so they couldn’t have used him against his twin.

Techno moves again, tucking Wilbur’s hand between their chests and wrapping his arm around Wilbur’s waist to pull him closer. Wilbur closes his eyes, tangling his fingers in Techno’s shirt.

“I was almost never scared,” Techno breathes. “I just- after a while, I just felt numb.”

Wilbur feels incredibly guilty. “I tried to stop thinking about you,” he mutters. “It hurt too much. I di-idn’t want to forget you-”

“S’okay.” Techno presses their foreheads together.

“I don’t want to forget you. Don’ want you to leave me.” Wilbur’s chest seizes painfully, and he brings his arm up under Techno’s, gripping his twin’s shoulder. “Please- please you can’t-”

“Never,” Techno snarls, arms tightening.

Wilbur should be scared by that. He should be really, really scared of Techno right now.

He sobs in relief, tucking his head under Techno’s chin. His twin holds him too tight for a few seconds longer, and when his grip loosens his hand is still twisted in a fistful of Wilbur’s shirt.

“Sorry,” he whispers. “Sorry, I-”

“Shut up.” Wilbur bashes his forehead against Techno’s sternum, crumpling in on himself, trying to claw impossibly closer to his brother. “Don’t go. Just don’t go.”

“I’m really scared,” Techno whispers after a long time, shaky in the silence.

“…me, too.” Tears pool in Wilbur’s eyes, soaked up by Techno’s shirt before they fall.

Chapter Text

Phil sits with Kristin’s arm around his waist, her hand rubbing at the base of his wings. Puffy is here, too, because Niki’s gotten the twins’ test results back.

Tommy’s had come back mostly clean. There were trace amounts of drugs in his system, ones meant to activate latent powers and others to enhance already-existing powers (and Phil grimaces at the thought of Tommy being even faster). He was physically unharmed, except the cracked ribs and a lot of bruises.

Phil suspects the twins’ results are going to be a lot worse.

Niki sits down heavily at her desk, opening the folder. “There’s a lot to cover,” she says. “Ah, about the only actual good news I have is that Wilbur’s x-rays are clean, there’s one old break but it healed cleanly.”

That’s all the good news?

“Techno’s show a fair number of healed breaks, and a partly healed cracked rib, but nothing that needs intervention. What does worry me is this.” Niki places a printout of a scan on the desk, pointing to a dark spot near the base of the skull.

“What is it?” Phil asks.

“A chip of some sort. I don’t know what it would be for, have we made any progress getting into the facility’s records?”

“Not yet,” Kristin says. “We’ve got people working on it.”

“Okay. Once we figure out what that is, we’ll consider if we have to remove it. I’d rather not put him through a surgery if we don’t have to.” Niki puts the scan back in the folder. “Wilbur’s bloodwork shows some nutritional deficiencies, but nothing too severe-”

“Nothing that would cause this level of exhaustion and physical weakness, you mean,” Phil puts in. A panic attack had worn him out, and that’s not normal. That’s incredibly concerning.

“Right. He also has reduced muscle mass, which makes me suspect he’s just been inactive for some time.” Niki shifts. “The only trace drugs in his system were sedatives. At a guess, it was a controlled dose, meant to knock him out for transport. He has mild anemia, but that should be easy to correct with proper diet. His white blood cell count is slightly elevated, we’ll keep an eye on that, but all things considered it’s probably a stress response.”

Niki pauses, flips over to the next page.

“Techno’s bloodwork doesn’t show the same deficiencies. However there are a lot more trace drugs. Power enhancers, stronger than the ones in Tommy’s blood. Paralytics, surgical quality, but no anesthetics.”

Which makes the freshly stitched surgical incision across Techno’s stomach particularly concerning. As if it hadn’t been concerning enough when he took off his shirt for the exams to reveal old scars, lots of them.

Niki doesn’t acknowledge Phil’s low, angry hiss. Kristin’s hand presses a little harder against his back, scratching gently at the down feathers at the base of his wings.

“I’m not too concerned about side effects, but we’ll need to test his powers at some point.” Niki hesitates, finally flipping over to the next page. “Their foster care files said they’re identical twins, right?”

The tension in the room is almost palpable.

“Yes,” Phil says after a second.

They’d found the twins’ files easily, Techno being such a unique name. Phil spent a long hour last night sitting over those files, staring at photographs of little boys with identical features, brown eyes and brown curls and sharp noses. There were some superficial differences- Techno’s hair was longer, Wilbur had a smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks- but otherwise, an exact match.

The differences in Techno’s eye and hair color can be explained by his powers, it’s unusual but not unheard-of; he’s a few inches taller than Wilbur, probably due to differences in exercise and nutrition.

“Well, they aren’t now.” Niki places the sheet in front of them, a DNA test.

For identical twins, Phil knows the results should show approximately a ninety-nine percent match.

It’s closer to fifty percent.

“Their files indicated they didn’t have any mutant genes. And now…”

And now, Techno does.

Phil reels his suspicion and anger in quickly as Kristin pulls out her phone. “I’m putting top priority on getting into those files,” she says.

“We could ask them?” Niki suggests.

“That’s not a good idea right now,” Puffy says. “They’re already dealing with a lot of stress, they’re going to be scared, we need to give them time to settle in.”

The files come through less than an hour later, and Phil holds Kristin’s hand while they sit down with Puffy and Niki, as well as a couple other high-ranking Syndicate members, to see the worst of it.

There are-

There are far too many files on kids.

One of the more recently edited ones turns out to be on Tommy, and they put that one aside for later, for Phil and Kristin to view in private.

Techno’s is the largest, labeled Asset: Blade. They open Wilbur’s first- Subject: Control, it says, and Phil suspects a double meaning in that designation.

There are videos, in both files, of procedures and tests. Wilbur screams and cries; Techno does, until videos from the third year, when he starts to go silent.

When they finish, there’s no one in the room who doesn’t look shaken.

Eret breaks the silence. “We- we have to go public with this.”

“Can we? Should we?” Phil’s wings bristle, he wants to scream. They were so small, so young, and he can’t help seeing Tommy, imagining his baby experiencing that, being hurt- “Haven’t they been through enough?”

“This is the evidence we’ve been looking for,” Eret says, their voice is steadier now. “People have to know what’s happening. What the government is willing to do to- to children.”

“Phil’s right.” Dream looks like he’s going to throw up. He’s been here so long that they tend to forget, sometimes, that he was raised in a similar facility. That he endured years of training and abuse and trauma before defecting to join the Syndicate. “We can’t do that to them.”

“We wouldn’t do it without consent-” Eret starts.

“They’re in no condition to consent to anything right now,” Puffy says sharply. “This isn’t an option, let’s move on.”

“Some of the other files maybe?”

Kristin hums. “We’ll have to review them,” she says after a minute. “See if we can- can find out what happened to those children.”

“And deal with those government shitheads in the basement,” Schlatt mutters.

“I’ll be more than glad to help with that.” Dream bares his teeth in a snarl.

~~~

Techno wakes up and. And nothing hurts. There is only a familiar kind of dull ache throughout his body.

He gets up, because he can’t stay down for too long. He has to be obedient, he has to be the perfect subject, or they will hurt Wilbur.

He doesn’t even get his eyes open before he’s on his feet, turning to face the wall, waiting.

As he’s bringing his hands up, he blinks.

The wall is… green.

He blinks again and it stays green and Techno wonders if he’s hallucinating, if this is a side effect of the drugs.

He hears breathing. Not his, but quicker, slightly shallower. Techno turns his head slightly and-

And Wilbur is there.

Techno’s breath catches, he hardly dares to breathe, Wilbur’s here. He’s pale and gaunt and his eyes are deeply shadowed, he looks the same as he always does on the camera but clearer now. And Techno can hear every hitch in Wilbur’s chest as he breathes in, his rasping exhales. He’s wearing a loose yellow shirt with short sleeves, half hidden under a thick blanket, and he has his head on a pillow, a real one.

Techno can’t take his eyes off his twin. He’s right there and he’s breathing, he’s alive, and Techno could almost reach out and touch him but he’s scared to break the dream. He wants to stand here and burn the image of Wilbur into his brain permanently. Even if it’s not real, because it can’t be real, because they haven’t let them be together in- in so long, and they wouldn’t be alone even if they were allowed in the same room.

It can’t be real but god does Techno want it to be.

He hears the click of a door handle and instantly snaps to attention, hands on either side of his head, facing the wall. His heart pounds, what if they saw him looking at the bed, what if they noticed him not behaving, they’ll hurt Wilbur oh god-

The door opens and there’s a soft sigh. It’s not exasperation, it’s not-

“Techno, you don’t have to do that,” says a voice, a man’s, quiet and patient and-

And Techno can’t move, he can’t dare, what if he does the wrong thing and they take it out on Wilbur-

“Techno, can you hear me?”

A response is required. He nods slightly, they don’t like him to speak.

“You can put your hands down,” the man says. “You don’t have to stand at attention, mate.”

But- but he-

He doesn’t understand.

What do they want? Why haven’t they cuffed him and dragged him out yet, why- why won’t they just tell him what he’s supposed to do?

“Techno,” the man says, his voice is still gentle but Techno knows that can’t last for long, it’s only a matter of time before he gets upset because Techno’s not being good, he’s not doing what he’s supposed to- “look at me, please.”

An order, clear and explicit. Techno’s not sure what to do with his hands so he lowers them to the crook of his back, turning to face the man.

He- he’s not dressed in the stark white of the handlers or the heavy black of the guards, he has blond hair loose around his face and black wings and-

And Techno remembers.

They’re out. They’re not in the facility anymore and Wilbur’s behind him, Wilbur’s real.

The realization hits him and knocks the air out of him, makes his knees feel weak. Techno fumbles for the bed, sitting down heavily, gasping for breath.

Phil comes across quickly to kneel in front of him, hands resting on his legs, he doesn’t reach for Techno and he promised no one would touch them without them saying it was okay-

“You’re okay,” Phil says gently. “Just breathe for a minute, you’re okay, Techno.”

“I-” He gasps in a breath, Phil had told him he didn’t have to stand at attention and he did anyway- “I’m sorry-”

“No, hey, don’t apologize.” Phil looks sad. “You didn’t do anything wrong, you’re not in trouble.”

He reaches for Wilbur anyway, he knows it’s illogical to think they won’t hurt Wilbur if Techno’s holding him but that can’t shake the feeling, that his twin is safest in his arms.

Wilbur stirs and grumbles as Techno lifts him to rest against his chest, as Techno wraps the blanket tighter around him. Phil watches with that sad look in his eyes- he looks sad a lot, Techno’s noticed, it’s weird.

Holding Wilbur makes it easier to breathe. Techno rests his cheek on his twin’s head and just breathes for a couple minutes, slow and deep, and Phil sits and watches them.

“Did they make you do that?” Phil asks after a minute. “Stand like that, I mean.”

Techno’s breath hitches and he nods slightly, hunches over Wilbur even more. “Had to be good,” he rasps. “Or they’d hurt Wilbur.”

Phil takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second. “You don’t have to do that here,” he says. “I know it’ll probably take a long time for you to really remember that, and that’s okay. We’ll remind you as many times as you need.”

He doesn’t… that doesn’t make sense but Techno can’t say so, he doesn’t know how. Instead he turns his face down against his twin’s head, holding him a little tighter.

“Are you hungry?” Phil asks.

Techno is. He shrugs, because he doesn’t know if it’s okay to express that want. Wilbur had, yesterday, but Techno is supposed to be silent, be obedient and good, the way he was trained.

“I’ll get you some food, and we’ll see if you feel up to eating, how does that sound?”

It sounds an awful lot like ‘I’ll bring you food and you had better eat it’ so Techno nods, because he is obedient, he is good. For Wilbur, he can be perfect.

Phil leaves, and belatedly, Techno realizes Wilbur needs to eat, too. Phil had brought food for both of them, yesterday, so it’s not unreasonable to expect they’ll both be fed again today, but that means Wilbur needs to be awake.

Techno takes a deep breath, jostles Wilbur gently, so gently. “Wil,” he breathes, “you gotta wake up now.”

Wilbur stirs, inhaling a little more deeply. He doesn’t open his eyes, though.

“Wilbur, wake up,” Techno says, a little more urgently. “You need to wake up.”

He comes awake in an instant, with a gasp, fingers clawing at Techno’s chest. His breath hitches, doesn’t even out.

“You’re okay,” Techno says, even though the words might be a lie. “I’m here, Wil, it’s me, it’s Techno. I’ve got you.”

A shuddering exhale, Wilbur goes limp. “Tech,” he whimpers. “Y’r here?”

“Uh huh.”

Wilbur shudders. “Don’ wan’ wake up.”

“You are awake.” Techno rubs his chin against Wilbur’s head, his hair is so short it’s itchy. “’s almost time to eat.”

“Pl’se, jus’ a li’l longer, I m’ss you.”

Techno feels like crying, it’s real but Wilbur doesn’t believe him but he didn’t think it could be real, either. “Look at me. Wil, look at me, I’m right here.”

Wilbur’s holding his breath and he lifts his head, blinks at Techno. He just stares for a few seconds, he’s crying, Techno thinks.

“Teh’no,” he whimpers, reaching up to grab the collar of Techno’s shirt and digging his fingers in above Techno’s collarbone again. It doesn’t hurt, not like it should, because it’s Wilbur. “Don’ go.”

“’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Phil comes back then, with what seems to be the usual two cups of broth. Wilbur flinches violently when the door opens, but Techno doesn’t let go of him. Phil just comes close enough to put the cups down on the table beside their bed, and then he backs away to the chair in the corner and pulls out his book again.

“Small sips,” he says gently. “Take your time.”

Techno figures Phil’s just staying here to make sure they eat, to make sure they’re good. He wouldn’t be surprised, really, if they had a camera in the room, watching them when no one else is there.

It’s sort of becoming a routine, this is the… fifth time they’ve fed them? And every time Techno helps Wilbur first, because his twin’s hands are still shaky. And then drinks his own broth.

But this time, after the third sip- “Is there something in this?” Wilbur croaks.

Phil hesitates, nods slightly. “Your bloodwork showed that you’re missing some important nutrients,” he says. “We thought it might be easier for you if we crushed up the pills to put in your food, rather than having you try to swallow them.”

Techno’s grip tightens on the plastic cup, pulling it away from Wilbur, he wants to dump it all out but he can’t do that, that would be bad- “What is it?” he asks, surprised when his voice sounds wobbly and scared. “What did- what are you-”

“It’s just vitamins,” Phil says, and Techno shouldn’t believe him. Shouldn’t trust him. “They weren’t taking good care of Wilbur, he’s not as healthy as he should be and the vitamins will help. I promise, Techno, we’re not drugging him.”

-techno techno i’m scared-

He tightens his arm around Wilbur. “Is- what is it gonna do to him?”

“Nothing at all,” Phil says, he keeps his hands open and empty in his lap. “They’re just to help him get healthier and stronger.”

“You said-” The words catch in Techno’s throat, and he coughs, trying to unstick them. “You said you’d try not to make us do anything we’re not comfortable with.”

“Yes.”

He’s scared, he’s so scared and he can’t ask this, he shouldn’t- “What if we’re not okay with you putting anything in our food?”

A long pause, during which Techno gets even more scared, because what if this is when Phil snaps, what if that was a step too far, eating is important and you get in trouble if you don’t do what you’re told-

“Then we won’t,” Phil says at last, and Wilbur crumples against Techno’s chest with a strangled sort of whine. “It’s important for Wilbur to get vitamins, but we can try doing it a different way, one that you are okay with.”

And- and he makes it sound like it’s just that easy, and Techno stays tense for a few minutes longer, waiting for the punishment. Waiting for consequences because he asked questions, and he refused something they wanted him to do.

Nothing happens.

“I can bring you a cup without anything in it, if you want,” Phil says.

“I’ll finish his.” Techno puts Wilbur’s cup on the little table, watching Phil’s face very carefully for a sign that that’s the wrong thing to say.

Wilbur stiffens, sending -no no techno don’t that’s bad- but see, Techno knows how this works. They want to keep Wilbur healthy so they can use him to make Techno behave, and if it really is bad for Wilbur then they won’t want Techno to drink it, because he’s the important one here, he’s the- the asset.

“That’s okay,” Phil says, neutral and calm. “But Wilbur still needs to eat some more, if you want to give him something without any extra vitamins in it, I’ll have to go get a different cup.”

Oh, they put it in both anyway. Techno eyes the cups, stomach flipping uncomfortably.

“It really won’t hurt me?” Wilbur breathes.

-scared don’t let go-

“It’s just vitamins,” Phil says. “It won’t hurt you, mate, I promise.”

“Tech, I’ll drink it, it’s okay.” Wilbur tugs on Techno’s shirt a little, turns his face back out towards the rest of his room. “It’s okay.”

Techno forces himself to pick up the cup, to keep helping Wilbur drink the broth. It’s mechanical, he feels kind of numb but he’s still so scared.

The thing is-

Techno almost thinks he can believe Phil. Because he didn’t lie about the tests yesterday, and he- Techno doesn’t know why he wouldn’t, except maybe to get them to trust him so they’ll do anything he says later, once they’ve realized how valuable Techno is, how much he’s capable of. Not that they need him to trust anyone- all they would have to do is threaten Wilbur, and Techno would obey without question, because that is what he is made for.

For a long time after Wilbur’s cup is empty, Techno just sits there and keeps his fingers on his twin’s pulse. He knows how to monitor heart rate and breathing, knows what patterns would indicate possible sedation or poisoning.

Nothing happens. Wilbur stays awake, his heartbeat stays steady, his breathing rasps and hitches but that tallies with his baseline vitals, at least from what Techno’s observed since Wilbur first woke up from sedation.

Phil doesn’t say anything, doesn’t push Techno to drink his own broth, and he wonders again when these people are going to come to their senses and make him behave.

Finally he grabs the second cup. Drinks a little faster, ignoring Phil’s slightly displeased expression. The liquid is cold and a little gritty and there’s an unpleasant aftertaste, but Techno drinks all of it anyway.

When he puts his cup down, he waits for the tell-tale pull of sedatives or the pain or itch or discomfort of poison.

Nothing happens.

“I’m sorry,” Phil says, and Techno startles, because it’s been silent in the room for a while. “We shouldn’t have done that, especially not without asking you, and we won’t do it again. In the future, we’ll work with you to find better ways to get you the vitamins or other medicines you might need.”

Techno doesn’t say that all they would have to do is tell him they’ll hurt Wilbur, and he would take anything without question, even poison.

After a minute, Phil comes across and takes the cups. Through sheer willpower, Techno stays impassive, stays still. Wilbur’s in his arms and that’s what matters, is protecting his brother.

Phil backs away to the other side of the room before he speaks.

“No one will force you to do anything you don’t want to,” he says. “If you want to stay in here, you can, that’s okay. We won’t make you leave. But if you’d like, you can wander around the building, or even go outside. Or, I could bring you some books and games.”

It’s- that’s a lot of information to take in all at once, and Techno knows- he knows his brain should be able to process better, faster, it’s another of the enhancements. He’s built to assess new situations quickly, assimilate information and make split-second decisions on the fly.

So why is his brain stalling when presented with- with a few simple options?

“Tech,” Wilbur breathes, barely audible, tugging on his shirt. “Techno, we can- we can go outside.”

That makes it simple. Wilbur wants to go outside, so they’ll go outside.

He still can’t make himself speak.

“Can we?” Wilbur asks, a little louder, twisting to face Phil. “Can- can we really go outside?”

“Of course.” He nods, smiles. “I can take you whenever you’re ready.”

“Now?” Wilbur wriggles in Techno’s arm until he’s facing him. “Techno, we can- we can go now.”

He looks so eager and hungry that Techno doesn’t know if he can say no. Even though he doesn’t want… he’s not ready to leave the relative safety of this room, where Wilbur’s safe right here with him, where no one can get them apart.

But he can’t say no to Wilbur, he can’t do that, because his twin’s eyes are begging, pleading, and Techno has had to do a lot of things he didn’t want to. He’s good at doing things he doesn’t want to do, wouldn’t do if that were an option, for Wilbur. To keep Wilbur safe, and now, to make him happy.

“Yeah,” Techno breathes. “Yeah, n-now. After- can we go to the bathroom first?”

“Of course,” Phil says. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

Fifteen minutes, they don’t need nearly that long to use the bathroom attached to the bedroom they’ve been put in, but- but knowing the time frame is good. There’s a clock on the wall and Techno doesn’t really remember how to read one but he’s- he’s figuring things out.

Phil comes back with two pairs of shoes. Techno eyes them suspiciously. He hasn’t worn regular shoes in. In a really long time, just the combat boots for the ‘hero’ outfit they were fitting him with.

But while Techno keeps his expression carefully schooled, utterly neutral, Wilbur looks openly disgusted. “Do we- I don’t want shoes,” he mutters.

“You don’t have to wear them.” Phil sets both pairs of sneakers by the door. “I just wanted to offer.”

He doesn’t make them put the shoes on, or even socks.

Stepping out of the door is hard. It’s so hard, but Wilbur goes out first, practically tripping over himself, and so Techno has to go to keep him from falling.

The floor is cold, synthetic, with no gaps; the walls are a neutral cream color; and Wilbur is leaning on his arm. Techno’s hands are free, not cuffed behind his back, and he’s wearing real clothes made from soft fabric with some slight weight to it, not the flimsy thin scrubs.

The floor is cold but Wilbur is leaning on him and Techno isn’t there, he’s not.

They pass other people in the halls, and Techno is careful not to flinch from the curious stares, from the unfamiliar eyes on them. He keeps his arm around Wilbur, keeps his twin close, that’s all he needs. It’s all he has.

Phil takes them to a door in a wall and he opens it and there is sunlight. Real and hot and bright.

Wilbur gasps, straining forwards, and Techno pulls him back, terror flooding his body. He doesn’t know why, it’s irrational to think something bad will happen if they go out there, but he can’t… he can’t do it. He can’t make himself take that last step.

“It’s okay,” Phil says gently.

“Tech?”

He can’t do it and he doesn’t know why. He can’t… he can’t make himself step across that threshold, even though it’s all right there, the grass and the sky and the clouds will be right there-

“Techno, I wanna go outside.” Wilbur pulls on his arm.

And Techno knows, he knows he has to do it. For Wilbur, because Wilbur wants to go out, and Techno can do anything for him. But-

“I’m scared,” he breathes, just for Wilbur to hear.

Phil moves away, and it’s just the two of them, standing in the doorway, staring at the sunlight and the green grass.

Wilbur twists to face him, hands twisting in Techno’s shirt. “It’s okay,” he says, matching Techno’s volume. “It’s okay Techno, we can go outside.”

Tears burn his eyes, he can’t he can’t and he doesn’t know why. “I’m so scared,” he whimpers. “I can’t- Wil I don’t know how.”

“Trust me?”

Techno nods, of course he trusts Wilbur, they’re twins, how could he not?

“Close your eyes.”

He does, gripping Wilbur’s hands tighter. Holding on as Wilbur backs up slowly, as he murmurs watch your step, here, until his bare feet sink into the grass, warm and a little wet.

Techno keeps his eyes tightly closed, holds on to Wilbur’s hands.

The sunlight is warm, so warm on his skin. There’s a light breeze, it’s warm too, he doesn’t remember ever being this warm in his life except these last two days with Wilbur. He can hear- he can hear birds, chirping and twittering away in the trees that rustle in the wind.

Techno can’t stop shaking but- but Wilbur’s holding his hands, and they’re standing in the sunshine, and they’re outside.

“It’s okay,” Wilbur says softly. “We’re okay, see? We’re outside, you did it.”

Techno sinks down to the ground, slowly, because he doesn’t think his legs will hold him up any longer. Wilbur goes with him, never letting go of his hands.

He still hasn’t opened his eyes.

“It’s okay,” Wilbur repeats, his voice shakes and he puts his head down on Techno’s shoulder.

He doesn’t hear the door close, doesn’t hear Phil say anything. Techno knows the man is still there, can hear feathers rustling, but he doesn’t try to speak to them.

After a while Wilbur shifts, twisting around, and his breath catches. “Techno, the sky is- is so blue,” he breathes. “The clouds- look, look at the clouds.”

They were just talking about it last night, how much they both missed the clouds.

Techno tips back, falling onto his back in the grass. It’s soft and prickly at the same time, the sensation on his bare arms and the back of his head is strange and almost overwhelming but- but Wilbur’s hand is still in his, warm and trembling faintly. Wilbur lays down beside him, and their heads bump together.

And for a few minutes Techno just breathes. Slow and careful, holding Wilbur’s hand, getting used to the feeling of being alive again.

He opens his eyes slowly. Stares straight up at infinity, bright and deep and perfectly blue, a few white fluffy clouds drifting past.

For a few seconds Techno is little again, just a kid staring at the sky with his twin, in the yard of a foster house- any house. Just a little kid, when the worst he’d ever experienced was that one house where the foster dad was too rough and smacked them around a couple times.

The feeling passes quickly, but it- for a second it was there. Just for a few seconds, he wasn’t the soldier they built him into.

Techno doesn’t realize right away that there are tears running down his face. Wilbur’s hand appears in his vision, pointing to one of the clouds, tracing its path across the sky. He doesn’t say anything, but that’s okay.

This is enough.

Later, back in their room, Phil brings them some books and games. He opens the curtains, opens the window slightly to let the breeze in through the screen.

And then they’re alone again.

“Why were you scared?” Wilbur asks.

They’re sitting on the floor against the wall, fingers still tangled together. Techno shrugs, he can let the mask fall in here, with just Wilbur.

“I don’t know.”

They leave it like that, and Wilbur reaches for a book.

Techno looks at the words on the page, he knows how to read- he used to anyway- but it’s been a long time and- and the words don’t make a whole lot of sense anymore. It’s. Confusing.

“Do you want to read something else?” Wilbur asks.

Techno glances away. “I don’t remember how,” he whispers.

He feels like he’s gonna cry again, it’s stupid. He used to read so much, a lot more than Wilbur ever did, and now-

Now he stares at the words on the page and he recognizes some of them but they don’t make sense.

Wilbur leans away, he doesn’t let go of Techno’s hand but he shuffles through the pile of books and comes back with a thinner one, with a cover that looks kind of familiar, in a distant way.

“It’s Greek mythology,” Wilbur says, and- and Techno used to like that, didn’t he? “Here, I’ll read it to you.”

“I c-” Techno shouldn’t cry, he is supposed to be emotionless and stoic but he sobs, and Wilbur holds his hand tighter. “I can’t read, Wil.”

“It’s okay, Techno-” Wilbur’s voice goes higher. “Look, I’ll read it to you, don’t cry-”

He curls up, covering his face with his hands, pulling his knees up to his chest. He has to let go of Wilbur’s hand to do it but Wilbur doesn’t leave, Wilbur leans heavily against Techno’s side and wraps his arms around Techno’s neck and holds on to him while he cries.

“It’s okay, don’t cry.” Wilbur’s head bumps against his. “Don’t cry, Techno-”

They took that away from him, they built him into their soldier but they took him apart first and it hurts it hurts he just wants to be okay. He wants to be okay and he isn’t and he might never be okay again-

“Techno, I’m here, I’m right here, we’re together, don’t cry.” Wilbur sounds like he’s about to start crying, too. “I’m here, please don’t cry-”

It’s so stupid to cry over something so small. Instinct wants Techno to stop, to hide it all away under his mask, to be quiet and emotionless and good, but Wilbur- Wilbur’s holding him and Wilbur lets him cry until he can’t cry anymore, until everything feels fuzzy and distant and slow.

And even when Techno slumps, exhausted and worn out and just wanting to sleep, Wilbur doesn’t let go. He just shifts into a more comfortable position, hiding his face in Techno’s neck, and keeps holding on.

~~~

Phil sits in that doorway for a long time, watching the twins lie in the sun, staring up at the sky.

It’s ten in the morning and they’ve been outside for nearly two hours when he finally, regretfully tells them it’s time to come in. Asks, because he’s seen Techno react to orders without question, and Phil hates doing that to him. He wouldn’t make them come in at all, but he’d forgotten to have them put on sunscreen, and a sunburn would be… less than ideal, right now.

They go, without protest. Phil takes the twins back to their room and opens the window- there are motion sensors, they’ll know if either of them tries to get out, but he doubts they will. He gathers some of Tommy’s old books. Some at a grade-school reading level, since the twins were only ten when they were taken, and others more age appropriate for mid-teens. A couple of easy board games.

Phil leaves the twins there, alone, and goes to find Tommy.

He’s in Kristin’s office, sitting on the desk, swinging his legs absently. The bruising on his face has gone down, a yellowish color now instead of the purple it was when they first got him back, he looks better.

Tommy’s chatter cuts off abruptly when Phil comes in, and he holds out his arm in a clear request for a hug. He nudges the door closed and gathers his son into his arms, tucking Tommy’s head against his shoulder.

Tommy sighs happily, tucking his head under Phil’s chin. “Hi dad.”

“Hey, mate. Feeling better?”

“I can hear now!” he chirps. “But Mom says I can’t go back to training yet.”

“I’d rather you weren’t training at all,” Kristin puts in dryly. “The least you can do is wait till your ribs heal.”

“Listen to your mother.” Phil kisses the top of Tommy’s head, lamenting the loss of his riotous golden curls.

Tommy huffs, but he nestles closer. “D’you think the drugs they gave me will make me faster?”

Phil exchanges a glance with Kristin, she’s grimacing, rolling her eyes. “I don’t know,” he says. “Maybe.”

Tommy huffs again. “I hope so, better get some fuckin’ thing outta all that.”

Kristin looks over Tommy’s head at Phil, meeting his sorrow, his worry, his trepidation with an expression of careful forced calm.

They still haven’t opened the file.

“I’m sorry, Toms,” he murmurs. “We never would’ve let you go in if we’d known how bad it would be.”

“But then we wouldn’t have rescued Techno and Wilbur.” Tommy rests his forehead in the hollow of Phil’s shoulder. “I don’t mind going through that, cause they had worse. And now they’re safe.”

He’s shaking, though, and Phil smooths his hair- what’s left of it- gently, over and over again.

“Are you still hurting, mate?” he murmurs.

“Some.” Tommy shrugs. “It’s mostly- I can’t stop thinking about it. Being scared a-and waiting for you and Mom to come get me.”

Kristin gets up and moves around the end of the desk, and Phil shifts so they’re holding Tommy between them. Tommy flails a little with one hand, grabbing Kristin’s.

“I was- I was so scared,” Tommy whispers. “Cause- the plan was just like four days, and it was a lot worse in there than we thought it would be and- I dunno. It was a lot. It hurt.”

“Oh, baby, I know, I’m so sorry.” Kristin rests her head on Tommy’s. “I’m so sorry, we did everything we could-”

“I know.” He sniffles. “I know that, I just- I was scared, but I kept telling myself you were coming. I kept saying ‘any minute now they’ll be here’ and that- I dunno.”

“It kept you strong long enough for us to get to you.” Phil exhales shakily, leans his head against Kristin’s, on top of their son’s. “You were so, so brave to get through that, Tommy.”

It’s not till that night, late, that they sit down in their little living room to open Tommy’s file.

Tommy is asleep, tucked up in his parents’ bed. Warm and comfortable and safe. The last time Phil glanced at the camera, the twins were settling in for bed.

(they haven’t told the twins about the camera. it doesn’t pick up sound, and they don’t watch it constantly, just glance in from time to time as a security precaution. Phil still doesn’t think it’s a good idea to have a camera at all, but he understand why it’s necessary.)

They’re holding a tablet, about to open the file titled Asset: 007, the one with Tommy’s face staring back at them.

“Are you ready?” Phil asks, voice shaking slightly. He doesn’t think he could ever be.

“No.” Kristin reaches over and taps the screen twice, opening the file.

The first attachment is a voice recording. Phil hits play.

“Subject log thirty-six. Doctor Jared Smith, conducting intake assessment.”

A pause. “Subject is a white male, thirteen years old. Name, Theseus Innit, born in Logstead, recently moved to a foster home in Manberg.”

They must’ve found the fake foster care file they created for Tommy quick. It was a good cover, especially with power dampeners and a few extra bruises garnered from sparring. And it fit the profile of the missing persons reports they’d been looking at.

“There are no… physical signs of mutant genetics. Further testing to be conducted when subject regains consciousness… Rapid blood tests indicate the presence of latent genes, though whether it will be possible to trigger the mutation remains to be seen. Drug testing will begin in six hours.”

The recording stops. Feeling sick, Phil clicks to the next one.

It’s a video.

Tommy, restrained in a semi-reclined metal chair, thick metal bands around his upper arms and wrists and legs, leather straps around his head and chest and waist. A person, nearly every inch of skin covered by white scrubs and gloves and a mask, a white cap hiding their hair, approaches with something in their hands, the quality is too poor to tell for sure what it is.

There’s audio, Tommy cursing them out. Phil knows his son well enough to hear the way he’s trying to cover up fear with brash loudness.

They put a needle in his arm. Connect it to a plastic tube and a clear IV bag half-full of dark red fluid. The person switches the pump on, the first of the drug hits Tommy’s vein, and he goes stiff and silent.

Before long, he’s screaming.

Kristin presses her face into Phil’s shoulder. He holds her tighter, unable to tear his gaze away from the screen. That’s his son, that’s his baby screaming in pain, and Phil let him walk into that situation.

There are other videos. Phil skims them, sound muted, each sharply visible frame gut-wrenching. “They’re all the- the same,” he says, strained.

He plays a voice log.

“Doctor Jared Smith, updating file on Subject Thirty-Six. Day three of testing. Subject has begun to exhibit signs of increased metabolism, consistent with recorded baseline for mutants with heightened speed. More testing required to confirm.”

The timing tracks with the duration of the power dampeners. It’s why the original plan was for them to get Tommy out after three days, four at worst.

The next log. “Doctor Jared Smith, updating file on Subject Thirty-Six. Day four. Subject exhibits heightened speed and metabolism. Infusions of activator chemical to be stopped, replaced by regular infusions of enhancers. Designation to be changed to Asset 007. Clearance and handling requirements to be updated accordingly.”

A pause. “Asset remains unruly and vulgar. Forceful measures to enforce compliance authorized.”

There’s a clip of Tommy, sitting in the cafeteria. There’s no sound, and Phil doesn’t know if he should be grateful for that.

Techno’s brought in, forced down into a chair at a different table- not that he’s resisting. After a minute one of the handlers moves closer to Tommy. He snaps his teeth at them, and they press a taser to his shoulder. Tommy jolts, convulsing, his mouth open in what must be a scream.

They don’t let up for nearly a full minute.

“Stop,” Kristin says when Phil’s finger hovers over the next video. Her voice breaks. “I can’t, Phil.”

He’s glad she told him to stop, because he doesn’t think he could’ve done it again, either. He puts the tablet down and holds his wife, and they both sit there for a long few minutes and cry.

Suddenly Kristin twists, pulling away from Phil and going across into their room, silently. He puts the tablet down and follows her in to where she’s standing, gazing at Tommy.

“He’s okay,” Phil says softly. “He’s safe, Kris.”

It’s hard to convince himself of that.

Kristin sinks down beside Tommy. He stirs with a tiny grumble as she strokes his head, and she pauses for a second.

“Shh, it’s mum, go back to sleep,” she whispers.

Tommy turns his implants off to sleep, but he seems to know it’s them, even without hearing Kristin’s voice. He doesn’t even open his eyes, curling deeper into the blankets. Phil watches Kristin trace the bruises marring his face. He wants them gone, each and every one. He wants his baby unhurt and safe, he wishes-

“We should never have let him go,” Kristin breathes.

Phil agrees, but-

“If we hadn’t, we wouldn’t have saved the twins.”

Tommy suffered, he suffered so much, but Techno and Wilbur endured worse, for so much longer. The trauma is unimaginable, incomprehensible. How someone could do those things to children, to two little boys- Phil can only wonder what kind of person would be capable of it.

Tommy put himself in danger, he didn’t know it was to help them, but that’s how it turned out. They got the twins out and safe. Yes, Tommy suffered, but Phil can admit that perhaps, in the end, it was for the best. Even if the thought makes him feel like he needs to take a year off and reevaluate his priorities.

“How do we help them?” Kristin whispers.

Helping Tommy heal will be- not easy, but simpler. He has his family and friends to take care of him, to heal the mental and physical damage.

With the twins, they don’t even have trust.

Phil sits beside her, leaning his elbows on his knees. “I don’t know,” he says after a minute, very softly. “We’ll figure it out, we always do.”

Tommy lets out a soft murmuring sound, and Kristin strokes over his head again, hushing him softly. He nuzzles into her leg and goes still.

Kristin slips down under the blankets, pulling Tommy closer. Phil leans back out the door, turning off the light in the living room before lying down at Tommy’s back, draping one wing over both of them.

He knows Kristin hates when he uses his powers on her, but Phil can practically feel her worrying over Tommy, so he does his best to project calm reassurance he doesn’t entirely feel. She squeezes his hand, sighing quietly.

Chapter Text

After Phil leaves on the third morning, Wilbur reaches for another book.

Techno’s expression twists, but he doesn’t immediately burst into tears. Wilbur hates that he cried about it at all, he hates that this is something that place and those people took away from his twin.

Because Wilbur- he doesn’t remember a lot from when they were younger, but he remembers enough. He remembers the ragged stuffed animals they carried from house to house, his blue sheep and Techno’s red horse; he remembers the fantastical stories they’d make up about kings and empires, ghosts and fantastical creatures.

He remembers how impossible it was to pry Techno away from a book. How they’d go to the library after school, and Wilbur would play on the computer or talk to his friends and Techno would just read and read and read.

And now-

Now, Techno puts his head on Wilbur’s shoulder so he can follow along while Wilbur reads out loud from The Phantom Tollbooth, a book they both liked when they were younger. It makes something scream and ache in Wilbur’s chest, thinking about before, before they were taken, before the facility and the experiments and the pain.

He wonders who they would be now if it hadn’t happened.

They’re seventeen, he asked Phil this morning and he told them. They’re seventeen. He doesn’t know… what teenagers do. What they did, even, before they were-

Techno’s so quiet.

He was quiet before, too, but never- never quite like this. He was always quieter than Wilbur, but he never went silent and still whenever someone came in.

Wilbur looks over at him, and Techno lifts his head slightly, glancing at him.

“Why’d you stop?”

“’m thinking.” Wilbur barely remembers to stick the bookmark between the pages before he puts the paperback aside.

Techno hums questioningly.

“You’re so quiet.”

Techno shudders, turning his head away. “They made me stay quiet,” he whispers. “I couldn’t talk. If- if I did then they would’ve threatened you and I-”

Wilbur’s heart hurts. He squeezes Techno’s arm.

“I couldn’t- I had to be good.” Techno whines softly. “I still don’t- I can’t let them hurt you.”

Wilbur doesn’t… really know how to answer that.

He wants to believe that this place is safe, like Phil keeps saying it is. Wilbur wants to trust him, because he’s exactly how he always imagined their dad would’ve been like. Because Phil’s just kind and he apologized for doing something they didn’t like.

But.

But trusting people isn’t- it’s not safe for them. The last time they did-

“I miss Friend and Carl,” he says, because he needs to stop thinking.

Techno’s head falls back on his shoulder, the weight feels good. It reminds Wilbur that his twin is right here, he’s not leaving, he’s not letting anybody pull them apart again because Techno’s strong now. Strong enough to protect both of them, and he has powers.

“Me, too.”

~~~

Techno wishes they would just tell him what they want.

It’s been… two days? Three? Three days. This is the third day they’re here. And all he’s done is sit with Wilbur.

And that’s- Techno doesn’t want to leave Wilbur. He’s not going to let go unless they make him, and no one’s shown any signs of wanting to make him, but it feels- it feels like it can only be a matter of time.

But still, he hasn’t done anything. He just- just sits here and they haven’t asked him to train or use his powers or- or do anything.

Phil comes in to bring them the second of the five small meals they’ve been getting, and Techno gets to his feet in a second. Wilbur’s hand closes in the fabric of his loose pants.

“I’m glad to see you’re enjoying the books,” Phil says with a smile.

Wilbur’s grip tightens. “We are, thanks,” he says quietly, voice rasping from how long he’s been reading.

Phil’s smile gets a little wider. “If there’s anything else you want, you can ask.”

He keeps saying that and- and Techno still can’t believe it. That’s not- it isn’t how things work.

Everything is so confusing.

Wilbur is here, with him, and no one’s tried to take him away. No one’s threatened him or- or made Techno leave him. They’re trying to help Wilbur get stronger, which isn’t smart, because if Wilbur is weak he’s easier to control, which by extension makes Techno easier to control.

They took Techno and Wilbur out of the facility and won’t tell them the rules. Techno knows the old rules, from the facility- those are easy, those are familiar- but things seem to be different here.

He’s talked a few times and Phil didn’t get upset. He said no- well not no, exactly, but kind of- when he put pills in their food, and Phil didn’t get upset then either, just said it was okay.

“I brought you something a little different this time,” Phil says.

He crosses the room to put two bowls down on the little table near the bed, skirting around them. Wilbur flinches, hiding behind Techno, clinging a little tighter to him, and Techno stands impassive, ignoring the too-fast beat of his heart.

Phil doesn’t seem to notice. “It’s oatmeal,” he says. “There’s a little brown sugar and some pieces of apple in it. It’ll taste sweet, not like the broth.”

Neither of them moves until Phil goes back to his chair in the corner, with his own book. Techno pulls Wilbur up and his twin clings to him, fingers tangled in fabric, as they move back to sit on the bed to eat.

Wilbur takes his bowl and pokes at the spoon, he looks perplexed. Techno sniffs his, it smells… he doesn’t even know what it smells like. The oatmeal is brownish gray and lumpy, and he suddenly really wants to know how it tastes.

Spoons are easy. Techno assumes the slow eating, small bites, rule still applies, and he gets just a little and tastes it and- oh god that’s what ‘sweet’ is. It’s so good, and only Techno’s carefully practiced self-control keeps him from scarfing down the rest of the bowl too quickly.

“Techno,” Wilbur breathes.

He glances at his twin, to see that Wilbur’s just staring at the bowl. Techno hums, questioning.

“I don’t… don’t remember how to do this.”

“The spoon?” Techno asks quietly, glancing across at Phil but the man doesn’t seem to be paying attention to them. He picks up his own spoon again. “Watch what I do.”

He takes another small bite, savoring the sweet taste. Wilbur copies carefully, his eyes go wide as he takes his first bite.

“Holy shit.”

He- he’s smiling. Wilbur has a big smile on his face, making his eyes crinkle, and Techno can’t breathe for a second because Wilbur is smiling.

Techno thinks he’s gonna cry. “Good?”

“Holy fuck, yeah, it’s good.” Wilbur scoops up another small spoonful, still smiling. “God, I don’t wanna eat anything else for the rest of my life.”

Techno thinks he remembers Wilbur always liking sweets. He feels a little smile creep onto his own face, and he nudges Wilbur gently. “’s good,” he breathes.

For a little while he’s able to forget- kind of- what they’re doing here. It’s just Techno, eating slowly, and Wilbur copying him. It’s just quiet, and they’re together, and that’s all that matters.

When they’re done, and Phil moves to take the empty bowls, that peace shatters.

Wilbur flinches away, and Techno twists sideways, sheltering him. Phil backs away slowly, he has that sad look in his eyes again.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “You’re okay, I won’t hurt you.”

Techno is supposed to be good and quiet and emotionless, but he suddenly snaps. “Why?” he rasps.

Phil frowns slightly, putting the bowls down and kneeling on the floor again to look up at them. “Why what, Techno?”

He shudders. Getting the words out is terrifying, but he does it anyway, clinging to Wilbur, knowing he won’t fight even if they try to take Wilbur after this.

“Why won’t you just tell me the rules?” He sobs, dry and painful. “Please, I’m t- trying to be good.”

“Oh- Techno, mate, no.” Phil looks so- so sad and Techno doesn’t understand why. “You’re not here for us to- to use you in any way.”

Techno’s breath catches, and it- it hurts in his chest. “Then why?” he begs. “Why- why do you want me? Please, I- I just need to know what you want me to do.”

Phil looks devastated. “ We don’t want you to do anything,” he says. “All we want for you right now is to rest and recover.”

Techno holds his twin tighter, and Wilbur tangles shaking fingers in his shirt. “I don’t… I don’t understand.” Techno means his voice to come out stronger, but instead it’s a pathetic little whimper. “I’m- I’m supposed to be- I was training to be- to use my powers and-”

“You’re just a kid.” Phil exhales a little shakily. “That’s all you have to be, mate. If you never want to use your powers, you don’t have to.”

That-

What?

“No, I- I don’t understand.” He’s still struggling to breathe, and he doesn’t know why, he doesn’t- do this, he doesn’t have panic attacks. He is a good soldier, he is stoic and silent and steady. “I don’t-”

Wilbur puts his hand on the middle of Techno’s chest, and the warmth and the weight makes it easier all of a sudden to get a breath. He whines softly, and Wilbur twists to face more towards him, breath puffing against Techno’s neck.

“Techno, listen to me.”

An order. He can obey. He lifts his head, meeting Phil’s gaze.

“You don’t have to do or be anything,” Phil says. “We brought you here because the way you were being treated in that facility was wrong, and you should never have had to go through that. You should’ve been able to grow up safe and happy and loved, not- not being hurt and put through tests and experiments.”

But- but-

“I don’t…”

“It was wrong,” Phil says, his voice gentle and forceful at the same time.

Techno-

He never stopped to consider right and wrong. It just was, it was the way life was, training and behaving and enduring, to keep Wilbur safe. Wrong was breaking the rules, right was obeying. It is all he has, all he needs, all he knows.

“I hated it,” Wilbur croaks, and Techno flinches, holding him tighter. “They took him away and- and I didn’t know if he was alive or dead and I hated it.”

Techno never considered how he felt about it, because he didn’t have to feel, emotions aren’t required. Emotions would make him less obedient, less efficient, so he learned to hide them so well that they didn’t matter.

“Techno, listen to me,” Phil repeats, and Techno’s gaze snaps to his. Phil stares right back, unflinching, uncompromising. “The things they did to you were wrong, and it does not matter what they were trying to make you into. What matters is that you are a kid, and you do not have to be anything else.”

There’s the disconnect, the strange confusion, his brain working slower than it ought to do. Techno should- he is meant to be capable of processing information half again as fast as an ordinary human. And these are just words, simple short words in uncomplicated sentences.

But he doesn’t understand.

“We just want you to get better,” Phil says, softer. “Both of you.”

That- that makes sense. “Because Wilbur’s not healthy,” Techno says, his throat hurts when he speaks. “But I am-”

“Wilbur’s not physically healthy, and you are, that’s true.” Phil shifts slightly closer, keeping his hands in his lap, wings lowering and flattening. “But there are other ways you need to heal.”

“I don’t- what?” Techno shakes his head slightly. “I don’t understand.”

Phil sighs, he doesn’t sound upset but Techno still flinches. “I know,” he says. “You’re trying to sort through a lot of new information and new feelings, and that’s really hard, I know.”

Phil is quiet for a few seconds, like he’s trying to give Techno time to process that, and it- it kind of helps, which is stupid. Techno’s supposed to be better, faster, that is what he was built to be-

“We want your minds to heal, too,” Phil says gently.

Techno doesn’t know what that means, and he feels tears building behind his eyes, and he wants to make them stop but he doesn’t know how.

He doesn’t want to cry. He shouldn’t cry, but he is anyway, and Wilbur makes a little worried sound and wriggles until he can put his arms around Techno’s neck.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he says in Techno’s ear. “Don’t cry, Techno, why are you crying? What’s wrong?”

He sobs, he doesn’t know. None of it makes sense and it’s all so confusing and Techno doesn’t know what he’s supposed to feel.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s a lot,” Phil murmurs.

Wilbur whines, holding on tighter. “Techno, what’s wrong, why are you crying? Are you sad again?”

He shakes his head, he’s not- he doesn’t know why he’s crying-

“Are you maybe feeling overwhelmed?” Phil asks gently, and- and yes, that’s it, it’s all too much all at once and he doesn’t understand.

Techno nods, and Phil hums. “Sometimes, Wilbur,” he says, “when we get overwhelmed, the way our brains deal with that is by crying. It’s okay to feel that way, Techno. For a long time your life was one way, and now all of a sudden everything has changed, and it’s normal to be stressed.”

He sobs, hiccupy and hurting, and Wilbur hugs him tighter. “It’s okay, Techno, it’s okay- I’m here, look, I’m right here-”

“Would the two of you like to be alone for a little while?”

Techno doesn’t know how to say yes but Wilbur nods, his chin bashing against Techno’s collarbone.

“Okay,” Phil murmurs. “I’ll come check on you later.”

~~~

Phil leaves the twins and goes to hold his son again.

He finds Tommy in the apartment, lying face-down on the couch with a half-eaten nutrient bar in his hand, dangling from his fingers like he could drop it at any second. A little amused, but mostly just comforted, Phil kneels beside him.

Tommy blinks when Phil settles one hand on the back of his head. Waves one hand at the coffee table, and Phil grabs the remote and turns on his implants.

“Hey, mate, are you tired?” he murmurs, rubbing Tommy’s head gently.

“Mmf.” Tommy makes a face. “No’ a’ymore.”

“Yeah? You have a nice nap?”

“Mmhm.” Tommy yawns. “’m hungry.”

The joys of parenting a speedster- all that speed calls for a heightened metabolism, which essentially just means that Tommy’s constantly hungry.

“You have a snack in your hand,” Phil says, laughing softly, his worries are so easily soothed away by the sight of his son safe, right where he belongs. “Maybe finish that, hmm?”

Tommy makes another grumpy sound, dragging the bar up to his mouth and swallowing the last two bites, barely pausing to chew. He yawns, rubs his eyes, and pops upright.

“’kay, ‘m ready!”

Phil laughs again, quietly. “Ready for what?”

“Uh- did you not come to get me for something?” Tommy blinks, looking utterly bemused.

Phil’s heart twists with love, overwhelmingly warm. “Nah, mate, I just-” He sighs. “I needed to see you.”

Tommy doesn’t even question it, just tips forward and curls into Phil’s arms. He smooths stubbly hair, gently tilts Tommy’s head back to kiss his forehead. Traces the fading black eye, the yellowed bruise on his cheekbone.

“Dad?” Tommy asks after a while, voice pitching up a little. “’s something wrong?”

“No, baby,” Phil murmurs. “You’re okay, everything is okay.”

He makes those promises to Techno and Wilbur, and they stare at him with eyes that hold only suspicion and fear.

Tommy just hums and goes limp in his arms, utterly and completely trusting. He’s never had any reason not to trust in his father- in all his thirteen years of life, Tommy has never known anything but love and warmth and gentle touches.

After a little while, Tommy yawns again. “Urgh, I don’t wanna fall asleep again,” he grumbles.

Phil hums, letting him lean back a little. “Why are you so tired, anyway?” he asks, lightly teasing.

Tommy pointedly avoids his gaze. “I maybe… maybe, possibly, might have gone to the gym.”

Phil sighs. “Tommy…”

“Okay I know, but I was so bored, and I was really careful about my ribs-” Tommy ducks his head. “I’m sorry dad.”

“I’m not mad at you.” Phil sighs again, he’ll have to have Kristin check that Tommy didn’t aggravate the cracked ribs. “Just- Toms, please, you need to be careful. Just rest for a while.”

“Daaaaad…” Tommy whines.

Getting Tommy to sit still has always been a Herculean task, he’s always been energetic and things only got worse after his powers manifested. But now, well-

“Thomas.” Phil gives him a stern look. “Your mother and I are not above putting you on house arrest and banning you from the gym and training areas.”

He rolls his eyes, flopping against the back of the couch overdramatically and promptly hissing in pain. Phil raises his eyebrows.

“What did I tell you?”

“Fucking ow.” Tommy grimaces. “Fine, fine, I’ll behave.”

He won’t for very long, because Tommy is uncontainable, but he’ll try at least and that’s what matters. “Thank you.” Phil sighs, cupping Tommy’s face and brushing his thumbs over his cheekbones. “We just want you to heal properly, mate, you know that.”

“I know.” He sighs, closing his eyes and leaning into Phil’s hands again. “’m trying, I just get so- so bored.”

“You don’t have to sit still and do nothing, but you do need to take things easy.”

“I hate taking things easy,” Tommy grumbles.

~~~

Wilbur is coughing.

That’s the first thing Techno notices when he wakes up, the wheeze in his twin’s chest and the harsh coughs that wrack his whole body. The next thing is the sneezing that Wilbur tries to smother in his elbow.

Techno knows about poisons, but this feels different. This tugs at old, old memories, from before. Before the facility and the lab and the cells and the drugs and tests and training. Before all of that, they were normal kids, and every so often, they would get sick.

Wilbur would get sick. Techno almost never did, for whatever reason. But everything that went around school, every cold and stomach bug and flu, Wilbur always caught it.

“You’re sick,” Techno says.

Wilbur coughs again, whining a little and pressing his hot dry forehead into Techno’s neck. “No shit,” he rasps.

Techno doesn’t really remember what you’re supposed to do for that kind of thing, except drink plenty of water. Wilbur whines complaint when Techno shifts him out of his arms.

“I’m gettin’ you water,” he says. Pauses, staring at Wilbur. “I’m not leaving.”

“Techno-”

He forces himself to go into the bathroom and fill a plastic cup at the sink. Irrational anxiety swells in his chest the whole time, he needs- he needs Wilbur, he needs to make sure his twin is still there, still safe-

Wilbur’s halfway off the bed when Techno comes back, face flushed, he’s crying and straining towards Techno. “Tech,” he chokes out.

“I’m here, I’m here, it’s okay-” He puts the cup down and drops onto the bed beside Wilbur, dragging him back carefully. “I’m here,” Techno repeats, trying to let his arm around Wilbur’s chest settle the frantic beat of his own heart.

Wilbur claws at his arm with a high whine, another raspy cough. “Techno, Techno-”

“I’m here.” He wraps his other arm around Wilbur, too, holding him as tight as he can. “We’re okay, Wil.”

Wilbur devolves into another coughing fit, and Techno loosens his grip to let his twin bend over a little, the hacking sound hurts to listen to.

“Please- please drink some water,” Techno begs, when Wilbur stops coughing. “Here, drink, it’ll help-”

It’s kind of early in the morning, so they sit here for a long time and wait for anybody else to come. Wilbur won’t stop coughing and it makes Techno more and more worried.

And when Phil does come, he looks worried when he hears Wilbur. “How long have you been feeling sick?” he asks, even without saying the usual good morning.

Wilbur sniffles, shrugging. “S’nce yesterday? I d’nno,” he rasps.

“He only started coughing this morning,” Techno says, because even though he is supposed to stay quiet, Wilbur’s sick and he can’t stand that. “Is he- is he-”

“It sounds like a cold,” Phil says, expression still worried. “But it could turn into something else, we should take you down to the medical bay-”

Techno pulls Wilbur close again as his twin cries out, trying to claw at Techno’s chest. He doesn’t want that to happen but- but he doesn’t want Wilbur to get worse.

“No-” Techno’s not even sure which of them says it.

“Techno, he’s very weak. His body might not be able to fight this off, and-”

“No, please, don’t-” Techno’s breath hitches. “Don’t take him,” he whimpers.

Phil bites his lip, gazing at them. “Alright. We’ll start with some medicine, okay?”

Wilbur takes the medicine, but he doesn’t get better.

By evening, he sounds worse, his coughing is deep and hacking and he’s having a hard time breathing. Phil looks even more worried when he brings them food. A dark-haired woman comes with him, someone Techno vaguely remembers seeing when they were brought out of the lab, and she touches Wilbur’s chest and exchanges a look with Phil.

“It’s bad?” Techno asks, his voice shakes and he hates it.

“Yes,” the woman says. “It’s developing into pneumonia, and that’s very serious. Especially with how weak Wilbur is-” She stops, looking at Phil again.

Techno feels like he’s gonna cry again. He tries to hold Wilbur a little tighter, but not too tight, because Wilbur’s chest seems to hurt.

Phil takes a deep breath. “You know we wouldn’t ask you to do this unless it were really, really important,” he says gently.

Techno’s heart skips.

“Wilbur, we need to take you to the medical bay so we can take care of you properly.”

He shakes his head, trying to drag in a breath.

“I know. I know, you don’t want that,” Phil says. “You can stay together, as much as possible, but Wilbur, you have to go.”

“Please-” Techno’s own chest aches, he doesn’t want them to take Wilbur away. “Please don’t take him-”

Phil meets his gaze. “Techno, if we don’t get him to the medical bay to get the care he needs, Wilbur will die.”

And Techno feels like his heart stops.

Techno doesn’t want to let go of Wilbur because if he does, then they’ll take him away, but- but if he doesn’t, then Wilbur will die.

He can’t let go.

He can’t let Wilbur die.

“We need to go now,” the woman says, and that makes Techno stop and reorient.

They have to go. It’s an order, and he can obey.

He shifts Wilbur around in his arms, standing up with one arm under his twin’s knees and the other under his back. Wilbur hacks and coughs into his shoulder, getting a handful of Techno’s shirt and clinging on tight.

“N-” Wilbur wheezes. “N- no-”

Techno doesn’t say anything, following Phil out and down the hall, the weight on his heart getting heavier and heavier.

He’s so vividly aware that he might be walking Wilbur to a new prison, a new cell. That when he lets Wilbur go they might not let Techno take him back again.

But he’ll be alive.

Wilbur will be locked away where Techno can’t see him except when they need him to obey, but he will be alive. That is the only thing that has ever mattered.

The woman leads them into a white and gray room, and another woman, who’s wearing a surgical mask and gloves, directs him to put Wilbur on a bed in a little area with glass walls.

Techno puts his brother down and his heart rips right in half as he backs away, as Wilbur reaches after him. Through another coughing fit, Techno can make out his own name, repeated over and over again. Wilbur is calling for him and he can’t go in there. He can’t, because the glass door slides closed behind a second doctor.

Techno wants to crumple to the floor, bur he doesn’t. He hides all his pain away behind a blank mask and stands with his head lowered, shoulders rounded, hands at the crook of his back, waiting for the cuffs. Waiting for them to drag him away from his twin.

No one touches Techno, and one of the doctors holds Wilbur still while the other one puts an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth, starts putting more medical equipment on him.

Wilbur stops fighting after the IV goes in.

Techno doesn’t cry, but he’d like to. He stands submissive and still, waiting for orders. Waiting to be told what to do, and it doesn’t happen. It doesn’t happen.

Someone moves in front of him, dark wings blocking out his view of Wilbur. Techno blinks, refocusing his gaze on the floor, bracing for the punishment for his slip-up.

“Techno, we’re taking care of him,” the man says.

It hurts, it hurts, he wants to see his twin but he knows better than to move, to speak. Techno waits for orders.

“Techno, mate, can you hear me?”

A question, which requires an answer. He nods slightly.

“Look, Wilbur’s right there.” The man shifts to the side. “You can’t be with him right now, we don’t want you to get sick, too, but you can stay here where you can see him.”

Techno was told to look, so he does, he lifts his head and stares at his twin on the other side of the glass.

Wilbur’s face is flushed, there’s a needle and tubing in his hand, an oxygen mask over his face. He’s just- lying there. Completely still, except for the shuddering rise and fall of his chest.

Techno stares at his twin, a dull kind of dread building in his chest, the promise of pain to come. Pain he won’t be able to escape. It’s always so much worse after they let him see Wilbur.

He stands there for a long time, watching the scientists- they must be, they’re wearing masks and gloves and they’re doing things with the medical equipment- move around Wilbur. Techno stands and waits for them to take him away and it doesn’t end.

“-ink he’s dissociating?”

A quiet hum. “Maybe. It might be conditioning, look at his stance.”

“What do we do?”

Silence. Techno hears the scuff of shoes on tile and waits, hands open and wrists pressed together behind his back.

A woman steps in front of him, she has curly white hair pulled back in a thick braid. “Techno, can you hear me?”

He nods slightly, dropping his gaze back to the floor.

“Do you know where you are?”

He… he isn’t sure. Because it doesn’t look like the facility, there are little things wrong, but he can’t think where else he would be. He doesn’t know how to indicate that. A shrug, perhaps?

“Techno, do you know where you are?”

He should answer before they get angrier but will it be worse to not answer, or worse to speak? He settles on the former, breathes out an I don’t know, nearly silent.

“That’s okay. You’re safe, can you repeat that back to me? You are safe.”

Techno opens his mouth to answer, he can’t. He can’t.

“It’s okay, you can talk. You won’t be in trouble for talking here.” The woman pauses. “You’re safe, Techno. Can you say that for me?”

He shudders slightly, he isn’t supposed to speak but she said he could. “I’m safe,” he whispers.

“Good. Try to take some deep breaths, okay? You’re safe, and Wilbur is safe.”

Wilbur is safe. Wilbur is right there on the other side of the glass and he is silent and still but he’s breathing.

“Wil.” He lets the word out on an exhale. He can barely hear himself.

“That’s right, Wilbur’s right there. He’s safe.” The woman shifts so he can see Wilbur better. “He’s sick, but we’re giving him medicine to try to help him get better.”

Wilbur is sick.

That’s right, Techno remembers that… they were sleeping in their room, and he woke up and Wilbur was coughing.

They’re at the Syndicate base now. They’re not in the facility.

Techno chokes on a breath as his knees buckle and he drops. Someone catches him, keeping him from just hitting the floor, and he doesn’t know why he doesn’t get scared and try to pull away. He doesn’t know why he feels calm all of a sudden.

“That’s it, mate, just breathe,” a voice murmurs in his ear. “You’re okay, your brother’s okay, you’re both safe.”

“Wil,” he says, reaching after him. “Please- please can I just-”

“Easy,” the man says, gentle and low, that’s Phil, Techno remembers. He’s nice to them. “He’s being taken care of.”

“You can stay right here where you can see him,” says a woman’s voice.

He wants to keep looking at Wilbur and never stop, but he feels really tired and it’s hard to keep his eyes open. Techno slumps in the arms holding him because he can’t hold himself up anymore, and his eyelids close.

“Pl’se,” he mumbles. “Don’ hurt him.”

He doesn’t hear the answer before the blackness takes him.

Chapter Text

Techno passes out in his arms, and for a long minute Phil just gazes at him.

He can’t help thinking that somewhere along the way, they messed up. That there’s something more they could be doing to help the twins heal.

But they’ve had four days, and that isn’t nearly enough time to undo seven years of trauma and conditioning. If there is any time long enough to counter that.

“I didn’t even push him that far under,” Phil says, not glancing up as he adjusts Techno into a more comfortable position in his arms. “I just tried to calm him down a little, not enough to make him sleep.”

“He’s stressed,” Puffy says. “He’s been under a lot of stress for a while now. It makes sense.”

Niki comes back out of Wilbur’s room, stripping off the gloves and mask and tossing them in the trash. “We’ve got him set up,” she says, then stops short. “What happened to Techno?”

“He’s just asleep,” Phil says.

“Do you have a place for him?” Kristin asks. “I don’t think we should separate them right now.”

“I want to get him into isolation, too. If his immune system is as shot as Wilbur’s, we should make sure he’s not going to get sick.”

It takes all four of them- Phil, Kristin, Puffy, and Niki- to lift Techno into the bed in the isolation room next to Wilbur’s. Niki takes his vitals, and then closes the door, drawing the curtain partly across to give him a little privacy.

It’s not till a couple hours later, when they try for half an hour to get Wilbur to swallow even just one mouthful of broth and can’t, that Niki says it.

“We need to consider more extreme measures.”

Phil can tell from Niki’s tone that she hates the thought as much as he does. They both saw those files, they both know the extreme amount of medical-related trauma the twins were put through.

“What are you thinking?” Phil asks quietly.

Niki drops her head in her hands. “He can’t skip meals,” she says, voice slightly muffled. “Techno- he’s not nutritionally deficient, it wouldn’t hurt him to miss a couple, but Wilbur is malnourished enough that he needs regular, consistent intake.”

“So…”

“So, I think…” Niki grimaces. “I think we need to consider a feeding tube.”

Phil exhales harshly. He saw that recording, too, of the masked featureless figures strapping Wilbur onto his bed, forcing a tube through his nose and down his throat. “Are you sure?”

“I know. I know, but it- it’s the best option we’ve got.” Niki clasps her hands on the desk. “IV nutrition could work, but it won’t be as effective. Especially in the long term.”

“Long term?”

“It’ll take time for the pneumonia to clear up. For a person with a healthy body and immune system, it generally takes a week or two.”

“And Wilbur has neither.” He glances past Niki, to where Wilbur’s weakly and sporadically twitching, broken moans barely audible over the intercom.

Niki shakes her head. “We’d be lucky if it’s over in a month. It’ll more likely take a couple months for the infection to clear, and even longer for him to start regaining strength.”

“So, a feeding tube.”

“Yeah.” She brushes her hair back. “Ideally I’d use an NG tube, but, well…”

“Probably not a good plan, considering his history.”

“Plus, his airway needs to be unobstructed so he can clear his lungs.” Niki fiddles with her tablet for a second. “I think the best option is a G-tube. Insertion would involve a minor surgical procedure-”

“Also not a great idea,” Phil tells her. Pointlessly, because Niki’s seen those files too.

“Again, it’s the best bad option. He needs to get proper nutrition.” She blows out a breath. “I hate this as much as you do, I hate having to do this to him, but he- he will be alive.”

Phil gazes past her at the isolation rooms again, to where Techno’s sleeping soundly and Wilbur is feverishly twitching.

“For all intents and purposes, you are their guardian,” Niki says.

They’d made that decision right away, needing someone to be their primary caretaker. Phil feels all the weight of it, but he’s glad to be able to do it. The thought of that happening to Tommy, of seeing his son hurt and scared like that…

Kristin had teasingly called it his ‘paternal instincts kicking in’ and, well. Phil would be lying if he said that wasn’t close to the truth.

“And you want me to consent to the procedure without asking either of them.”

“Wilbur’s in no state to, and I doubt Techno would.” Niki glances away, expression set. “We might- might be able to pull him through without it, but this will give Wilbur his best shot at a full recovery.”

Phil knows he’s going to say yes. “Possible negative effects?”

“Aside from the mental toll, far outweighed by the positives. So much as to be negligible. And I know- I know we can’t just ignore how this is going to affect both of them mentally, I know this might set back the trust we’ve been trying to build up, but-” Niki leans on the desk again. “I think it’s a risk we have to take.”

The ‘trust’ they have with the twins is fragile at best. This could do worse than set them back, it could destroy that completely.

If Wilbur dies, they will definitely lose any kind of trust Techno has in them.

“Okay.” Phil meets her gaze. “Okay, do it.”

~~~

Techno wakes up and Wilbur is still sick.

They don’t make him leave, but they won’t let him go in the room with Wilbur either. Phil says that they’re worried Techno will get sick, too. That’s why they’ve put him in a second glass room ‘for observation’.

Techno knows it for what it is- another prison. A friendlier one, where he can see his twin, but still a prison.

It’s too easy to fall back into habit. To sit motionless and silent, staring through the glass at Wilbur, lying still in the bed. To sit waiting for orders that don’t come.

It’s been less than a day since they brought him here.

“Hey,” a young-sounding voice says.

Techno blinks, head snapping up to look at-

That’s the kid from the facility. He looks a lot better now, the bruises on his face are fading and he’s not so pale. He’s nudged the curtain open a little bit and is leaning against the glass door.

There are curtains across the glass fronts of the rooms. Mostly closed, presumably to give them some kind of privacy. The far wall of the room, the one that goes into another identical room, is tinted dark so he can’t see through it, but they left the one between Wilbur and Techno completely see-through. He kind of appreciates that, distantly- it’s hard to feel much of anything right now.

“I don’t know if you remember me,” the kid says. “My name is Tommy, we- we sort of met?”

Techno can’t speak, but he nods slightly. Yes, he remembers him.

“Cool.” Tommy nods, lapses into silence.

Techno’s gaze drifts back to Wilbur. He knows- he knows he’s not supposed to, he should keep his gaze on the floor, but- but the only person around to notice is Tommy, and Tommy was an asset, like him, so it’s kind of different.

“How’re you doing?” Tommy asks, quiet.

Techno shrugs, he still can’t find his voice but Tommy doesn’t seem to care.

“Yeah, I get it. This must be super rough.”

Is it? Techno doesn’t really know what that’s supposed to mean.

He’s been sitting and staring at Wilbur for so long that he doesn’t think he can move anymore. Not that he wants to.

His eyes burn, are they just dry because he’s had them open so long or is he going to cry?

“I bet you’re really scared,” Tommy says quietly.

Oh, he’s gonna cry.

He is scared. He’s really, really scared. Because Wilbur’s laying there like he might be dead and they won’t let Techno be with him and Techno can’t stop thinking that these people are gonna hurt them too.

“I just- I want you to know you’re safe here.” Tommy pauses. “The man who’s been taking care of you- you know, Phil?”

Techno nods again, he should try to wipe away the tears trickling down his face but he can’t move. He knows Phil. Phil seems kind enough, keeps saying I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to and he can’t trust it but so far- Phil hasn’t hurt them so far.

“He’s my dad.”

Oh, that’s nice.

Techno knows he had a dad, once. He doesn’t remember him, though he used to like to pretend he did. He would imagine his dad would teach him and Wilbur how to ride their bikes, and help Techno with the science homework he was always so bad at, and hug him after bad dreams to make everything better.

He wonders if Phil does those things for Tommy.

“Anyway, I- you know, I kind of get it if you have a hard time trusting us at first. Ranboo did, too, he was from a place kind of like that-”

He can’t trust them. He can’t dare. It’ll hurt too much when they turn on him, when they finally stop playing at whatever game this is and come to their senses. When they lock Wilbur up where Techno can’t reach him and use his twin to control him, to make him behave-

“-but we’re the good guys, we really are.”

The scientists said they were making a new generation of heroes. A new hero, more powerful than any of the others. The Blade. They mentioned the Syndicate a couple times, they said they were villains, that they disrupted the order of the world and they had to be stopped.

Techno was meant to fight the villains. To slip into the shadows and pull blood out of bodies and destroy anyone and anything his handlers pointed him at. He was going to be given a sword and a costume and he was going to be the perfect hero, to protect Wilbur.

He never stopped to consider right and wrong, but he is now.

The people in the facility, the ones who said they were making heroes, they hurt them. They hurt Wilbur, they made him so weak that he might be dying. They hurt Techno, he can still feel it if he thinks about it, the burning unending pain from surgeries and muscle biopsies and spinal taps and so many other procedures that he doesn’t know the names of.

The people here- the Syndicate- have let him go outside. Let him sit in a room with Wilbur for days at a time, let him hold his twin. Gave him real food and books and a blanket and haven’t turned his powers on or asked him to use them. They haven’t done any tests or surgeries or- or anything at all to hurt him.

How can they possibly be villains?

Tommy hasn’t said anything, apparently ignoring Techno’s mental crisis. Techno glances over at him, hesitantly meeting the kid’s gaze.

His eyes are blue. Bright, and Techno doesn’t know a lot about reading people’s emotions in their eyes but Tommy doesn’t look like he’s trying to hide anything. Like maybe, maybe he’s telling the truth.

“They hurt you, too,” Techno says at last. His voice comes out as a near soundless whisper, but Tommy apparently hears him anyway.

“Yeah, they did,” he says quietly. “Nowhere near as much as you, but- yeah.”

Tommy was there for a few days; for Techno and Wilbur it was seven years. Phil says, anyway.

“We don’t hurt people here,” Tommy says.

Techno doesn’t answer that. He doesn’t know how.

Tommy doesn’t say anything else, and after a while Techno turns to look at Wilbur again. Something’s beeping. It makes him worry, in a distant muted kind of way.

Worry that quickly turns sharp when Niki and another doctor hurry into the room and start working over him frantically. When Techno realizes that Wilbur’s struggling to inhale- Wilbur isn’t breathing-

He jolts, stumbling over on numb legs to collapse against the glass wall, pain and terror building in his chest- Wilbur, Wilbur-

They’re pulling the mask off and pulling him upright to bend over facing the floor and one of the doctors hits him, hard, in the back, and Techno wants to scream but he can’t. He can’t, they’re hurting Wilbur and Techno can’t do anything except slowly crumple to the floor.

The doctor hits him a third time and Techno can’t catch his own breath. “Stop,” he whispers. “S- stop-”

And then Wilbur starts coughing, wet and hacking and awful, and Niki puts a plastic basin under his mouth as he spits out something greenish that splats unpleasantly.

He’s breathing again. Techno sobs softly, pressing his hand on the glass like he could phase through and get to his twin. Wilbur’s breathing, he’s breathing, he’s alive, he’s okay-

He keeps coughing, and the other doctor pats his back gently. She’s saying something that Techno can’t hear past the buzz of relief, watching Wilbur hack up more of the stuff choking him.

When it finally stops, they carefully sit Wilbur back upright and tip some water down his throat. His head lolls sideways as they lean him back against the pillows, his gaze locking with Techno’s.

“I’m here,” Techno says, pressing closer against the glass, heart pounding in his throat. “I’m here, Wil-”

His twin’s lips move as Niki puts the oxygen mask over his face. His eyes flicker and close, and Techno’s heart skips a beat but- but Wilbur’s still breathing. He’s breathing. He’s alive.

Niki pulls up Wilbur’s shirt as the other doctor goes out, she’s messing with a- a tube in his belly. Techno’s throat feels dry, watching as she attaches a longer piece of tubing to it and the other doctor brings in a syringe and some other equipment.

“What- what are you doing to him?” he croaks.

Niki glances over, expression softening as her gaze falls on Techno. “Wilbur is too weak to eat right now,” she says gently. “So we put something called a G-tube into his stomach, that way we can feed him while he rests.”

Techno flinches. “No- no, you can’t do that, it’s-”

“It’s not hurting him,” Niki says, still gentle, she’s not looking at Techno anymore. Instead she’s connecting the plastic tubing to the little box the other doctor brought in. “We wouldn’t hurt him, Techno, we’re trying to help him get better.”

“We don’t hurt people,” Tommy repeats, and Techno glances over at him. “They’re just trying to help.”

He shouldn’t believe it- he can’t, he really, really should not believe this. Because they put a tube in his brother’s stomach, they’re making him eat-

They’re force-feeding Wilbur because he’s sick and he’ll die if they don’t.

Techno doesn’t want Wilbur to die.

He can’t get up from the floor, he just stays there leaning against the glass, staring at Wilbur. His twin is half sitting up, every so often he opens his eyes and lets them drift closed again. He’s still flushed, twitching feebly, a wince crossing his face every time he moves the arm with the IV in it.

Techno watches him, and every movement makes him remember that Wilbur is alive. He’s sick, but he’s alive, and they’re trying to make him better. That’s why they had to do this.

The glass door of his room slides open. Techno doesn’t move, he can’t. He doesn’t want to, anyway, he only wants to watch Wilbur as long as he can.

“Hey, Techno, how are you doing?”

He blinks, resting his forehead on the wall separating him from his brother. Shrugs one shoulder.

Phil hums, low and quiet. “I brought you some yogurt, do you think you could sit up and eat?”

Techno doesn’t want to. He wonders what Phil would do if he said no.

He shifts slowly, stays leaning against the glass. Glances over at Phil, who’s kneeling in the doorway, who has a worried kind of smile on his face. Tommy’s hovering over his shoulder.

“Here, mate.” Phil holds out a bowl.

It’s yellow. There’s a handle, a spoon handle he thinks, sticking out of it.

Without thinking Techno reaches out and takes the bowl, his fingers brush against Phil’s and the brief contact leaves his fingers feeling cold.

The yogurt is pink. Techno stirs it with the spoon, poking at the clumps of… he’s not sure what, and the slices of red fruit.

“The yogurt is strawberry banana, and there’s granola and some strawberry slices in it,” Phil says, still quiet. “You can have something else if you don’t like how it tastes.”

Techno tries it. It’s sweet, and he doesn’t really like the taste but it’s tolerable. At least it does taste. The texture of the granola is nice, too.

Like usual, Phil sits there while he eats slowly. Techno watches Wilbur between spoonfuls, watches his brother continue to shudder and whimper every time he accidentally jostles the IV.

“Good job,” Phil says quietly, when he hands the empty bowl back. He doesn’t say anything about Techno just sitting on the floor. “Are you feeling sick at all?”

Techno frowns slightly, he doesn’t know how exactly to define that. Seemingly senseless aches and pains are usual, between the training and the experiments.

“Are you hurting anywhere, does anything feel uncomfortable?”

Oh. “My throat feels raw.” Like he’s been screaming. He wakes up like that sometimes after particularly painful tests. “And my head aches. A little.”

Phil’s expression pinches. “I hope you’re not coming down with what Wilbur’s got.”

“I won’t,” he says, his voice comes out tired and small. “My immune system is enhanced, I can’t get as sick as Wilbur could.”

Phil doesn’t look any less concerned. “Okay,” he says after a second. “Well, we’re gonna have you hang out in here a little while longer so we can make sure you’re not sick, all right?”

Techno turns his head to look at Wilbur again, resting his head on the glass.

He knows it would be too much to ask to be allowed to stay here even when they’re sure he’s well, to stay where he can see his brother. It’ll be painful, but not unexpected, when they make Techno leave. When he’s not allowed to see Wilbur anymore.

“Niki says he’s improved a little,” Phil says quietly. “Now that he’s getting enough fluids and the right medications.”

Techno takes a slow breath, lets it out just as slowly. “He stopped breathing.”

“I know.” Phil pauses. “Pneumonia is really serious, there’s a lot of fluid in Wilbur’s lung right now and that’s making it hard for him to breathe.”

“They hit him.” He hates how small and scared he sounds but he doesn’t know how to make his voice stronger or even just flat and neutral.

“That must’ve been hard to watch. Niki said they had to help him clear his airway and keep breathing.”

That makes sense. Techno hums, acknowledging.

“Would you me to bring you something to do? Maybe a book from your room?”

Techno’s gaze cuts to the floor for a second. “I can’t read right anymore,” he mutters.

“I can find something,” Tommy says, startling Techno. He’d kind of forgotten the kid was there. “I bet you’d love Animal Crossing, big man.”

That… sounds kind of familiar. Maybe one of the foster homes had it?

Phil hums, not upset or pleased just… neutral. “Do you need to use the bathroom?” he asks after a few seconds.

The subject change is abrupt, but Techno isn’t particularly fazed. He shrugs.

“Okay. Someone will show you where that is, you can come right back here after so that you can stay with Wilbur.”

Techno follows the doctor to the bathroom, and then back to the new room they’ve put him in, and he sits down by the wall again to watch Wilbur. After a little while Tommy comes back with a black case in his hands, and Techno should be scared of that but it’s- it’s Tommy, Tommy who was in the facility just like him.

Tommy comes inside, sliding the door mostly closed behind him. Techno doesn’t pay attention while he opens the case, and that’s dangerous, but Niki’s doing something to the feeding tube and he needs to keep watch of Wilbur.

When she’s done with that part, she moves the breathing mask and helps Wilbur drink a glass of water.

After Niki finally leaves, Tommy clears his throat, and Techno glances back at him. The kid holds out a black box that has Techno preparing for pain by instinct, until he realizes it’s the wrong shape and size for a taser.

“Here, I brought a game for you to try.” Tommy gestures to the case, where a screen is propped up. “I’ll show you how.”

Techno wants to watch Wilbur, but he takes the game controller. Lets Tommy position his hands carefully, even though having someone else touch him makes his body freeze up, expecting pain.

Playing the game is… weird.

It feels strange and familiar at the same time, and Techno keeps glancing at Wilbur every ten seconds to make sure he’s still breathing, so he’s not really sure he’s doing much in the game. But it doesn’t seem like the kind of game that really needs that much attention. And the bright colors and animal characters and peppy music are… relaxing. Weirdly enough.

And Techno almost forgets where he is.

~~~

Wilbur can hardly get his eyes open.

Breathing hurts. Each inhale takes a monumental effort, and then he lets the air out of his lungs and has to repeat the whole excruciating process.

Then again, the headache might be worse. Or the chills that wrack his body with the force of his shaking.

There’s a kind of emptiness in his body, a loneliness, but he doesn’t… he doesn’t know what he’s missing. He’s been alone for so long. So, so long.

He wonders if they’re running another experiment, that would make sense, right? That would be why he feels so gross, so sick. Why he can feel the discomfort of an IV in the crook of his elbow, a hard plastic thing pressing over his face. The slight pain in his side.

His chest hitches on an exhale and suddenly he can’t breathe, there’s something lodged in his chest, he can’t breathe and he coughs and chokes around it, he can’t- he can’t-

Hands pull him up, pulling the plastic thing away from his face and bending him sideways. Wilbur heaves, hacking up something wet and disgusting and spitting it out.

“-you go, you’re okay, hon, just get it out.” A hand rubs between his shoulder blades, and Wilbur tries to cringe away from the contact without thinking, but he’s too weak to move. “Shh, you’re okay,” the voice, a woman’s, murmurs.

The coughing fit only continues for another few seconds before it subsides and Wilbur hangs helpless in the arm braced across his chest, trying to catch his breath.

“Thank you,” the woman says, and something cold touches his lips. “Here, Wilbur, we’ve got some water for you, you think you can drink that for me?”

He doesn’t want to but he guesses he probably doesn’t have much choice, so he swallows every sip of water they put in his mouth. When they stop, they lean him back against something soft. He’s kind of sitting up, he thinks. His headache is bad enough that he can’t really… think clearly.

Something’s missing, and Wilbur has a sneaking suspicion he knows what it is he wants.

But he can’t have it. Can’t even allow himself to think about it- about him- because it’ll hurt too much.

The plastic thing is back on his face, and it makes it a lot easier to breathe. Wilbur gets his eyes open, blinking at the person standing over him, her face half-hidden by a light blue mask over her mouth and nose.

Her eyes crinkle at the corners when she sees him looking. Her hair is pink, it’s pretty, Wilbur thinks a little deliriously.

“Hey, Wilbur,” she says, her voice is nice. “How’re you feeling?”

He doesn’t feel good enough to speak, and besides they don’t really like it when he talks. He does make a vague groaning sound.

“Yeah, I bet. You’re pretty sick right now, but we’re trying to get you better.”

She brushes his hair back, and the touch is so gentle that Wilbur can’t help leaning into her hand. His eyes shut for a second, but he gets them back open, he should… should try to stay aware of what’s happening.

He moves his hand slightly. The IV pinches, and he whines, and it’s echoed by a similar sound that’s a little muffled. The woman looks away for a second.

“He’s okay, Techno,” she says gently.

Techno?!

Wilbur blinks, trying to look around, only succeeding in making his head roll to the side. Techno’s there, standing and staring at Wilbur, both hands pressed against the glass wall between them. Wilbur wants to reach for him but he can’t, his arms won’t move.

He whines again, and Techno presses closer to the wall. “I’m here,” he calls, voice slightly muffled. “You- you’re gonna be okay, Wil. Just keep- keep breathing.”

Tears slip down Wilbur’s face and he tries to nod, he wants- he wants Techno in here, with him, holding his hand. His fingers curl weakly, arm twitching as he tries again to reach for his twin.

“Shh, it’s okay,” the woman murmurs. “I know you want to be with your brother, we’re just trying to keep you both healthy.”

But… aren’t they doing an experiment? Isn’t that why Wilbur feels like shit?

It’s getting really hard to keep his eyes open, but he tries, because he wants to keep looking at Techno. He wants to pretend this is real for as long as he can, even if it can’t possibly be real. Even if Techno doesn’t look quite like Wilbur thinks he should, even if this can’t be anything more than a hallucination made up by his drug-addled mind.

~~~

“How are you doing today, Techno?”

He balances the bowl very carefully on his leg, shrugging slightly. “I’m okay.”

The woman hums, noncommittal. It’s the one with the white hair, again, she hasn’t come into the little glass room where he is. She did open the door, though.

“I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” she says. “My name is Puffy, I’m sort of like an unofficial therapist around here.”

It’s… strange, knowing so many people’s names. No one there would ever use theirs, except sometimes he would overhear one when a scientist was doing records. No one ever used his, he was just the asset or Blade. And here people keep saying his name, and Wilbur’s, and telling him theirs, and… he’s not really sure what to do with that.

“Anyway, I thought I would drop by and see if you wanted to talk. This all must be really stressful.”

Techno shrugs again.

It’s still… hard, to speak to people. He can talk to Tommy, because Tommy was like him, and he talks to Wilbur because he’s Wilbur. And Phil because he hasn’t done anything to hurt them.

But even with Phil, the instincts still kick in every time Techno’s addressed. He’s not allowed to speak, he needs to be still and quiet and submissive.

Wilbur’s coughing again, in the next room. Techno jerks, sitting upright and leaning slightly towards the wall. He doesn’t get up, though. He knows better than to move when he’s being watched.

Niki’s moving Wilbur to lean over again, gently thumping his back. Techno can’t suppress a whine, she’s hurting Wilbur, she’s hitting him-

“It’s okay, Techno, Niki’s helping him. Wilbur’s gonna be okay,” Puffy says, her voice is gentle.

Wilbur whines, when she finally leans him back against the pillows. He’s shuddering every so often, whimpering quietly. Niki places the back of her hand to his forehead, murmurs something. Starts fiddling with the feeding tube.

They’re still giving Wilbur and Techno meals at the same time. Only Techno’s getting bowls of soft simple foods, and what they’re pumping into Wilbur’s stomach is some kind of specially formulated liquid, as far as he can gather.

Techno still doesn’t like that they’re doing it, but he knows if they didn’t, Wilbur would die.

He supposes it might be kind of hypocritical of him to not be upset that they’re hurting Wilbur to keep him alive.

He still can’t help the way he jolts towards the wall again when Niki touches the IV and Wilbur lets out a weak cry. He doesn’t move because he can’t, he hasn’t been given permission to.

“-’s okay, Wilbur, it’s okay, I know you don’t like that. I’m sorry.” Niki’s voice is quiet, soft. Kind of- soothing, almost.

“This is all really hard, huh?” Puffy murmurs.

Wilbur’s crying, and Techno can’t go to him. His shoulders slump.

“Yeah,” he exhales.

~~~

“We’ve been looking into the files from the facility,” Eret says. Beside them, Dream looks like he’s going to be sick.

There’s an edge to their voice that tells Phil it’s something bad. “And?”

“Well, to start with, there’s some we think we can use. Files for kids- a few of them match up to the missing persons reports, most of them we- we found foster care files for. Young kids, none older than fifteen.”

“So we got the profile right, at least,” Schlatt remarks.

Phil glares, that may be true but it doesn’t make it any less painful.

“What else is there?” Kristin asks.

“They’re all dead.” Dream’s fists clench for a second, going white-knuckled. “They- all of them died during the testing. Most-” His voice breaks, and he stares at the table, hands shaking.

Eret takes over. Their voice is barely more steady. “Most of them didn’t make it through the initial tests,” they say quietly. “The drugs to activate latent genes. Only eight kids did. Five of them died in the second phase, and Wilbur wasn’t part of it.” They pause, resting their head in their hands. “Techno was the only one to survive.”

Worry flares through Phil, and Kristin squeezes his arm. “Was-” Phil starts, then stops, wrests his voice back under control. “Was it the drugs, do we need to worry about Tommy?”

Eret shakes their head, but Dream speaks first. “It was the surgical procedures,” he says thickly. “One- one of them died from the drugs, but most-” His voice breaks again, and he puts his head down on his arms.

Silence, for a long minute.

Phil very pointedly decides not to think about what could’ve happened if it had taken them just a little longer to reach Tommy.

“We did some more digging into Techno’s file, too,” Eret says at last. “Found the records about the chip, it’s an inhibitor. Blocking him from using his mutation.”

They sound disgusted by the very thought. Phil gets it, more or less- but still, he can’t help but think it might not entirely be a bad thing.

“So we have no way of knowing how powerful the kid could be.” Schlatt sighs, leaning back in his chair.

“Right, which is why we should be careful about removing it,” Eret says.

“Assuming we’re going to,” Kristin says, glaring at him.

“Why- why would we not?” Eret shoots a glare of their own right back at her. “An inhibitor- that’s awful, cutting someone off from their powers like that.”

“Is it dangerous to him?” Puffy puts in.

Niki’s scrolling on her tablet, and after a second she glances up. “I don’t think so, not at the moment. Unless it shifts, but it doesn’t look like it has since it was put in.”

“But his powers-” Eret tries to say.

“First of all,” Phil says firmly, “we’re not doing anything else to those kids without their consent. Unless it’s a matter of life and death, they need to know what’s going on, what we’re doing to them and why.”

“Besides that,” Niki cuts in. “We all saw those files. How do you think he’d react to seeing us scrubbed in for surgery?”

Phil inclines his head in her direction, acknowledging. “Third, he was kidnapped and experimented on and fucking tortured. Who’s to say he even wants powers?”

Eret is silent.

“Techno’s had enough autonomy taken away from him,” Phil says. “The least we can do is try to give some of it back.”

Another brief silence, Puffy nodding approvingly.

“So say we release those files,” Sam says at last. “The ones on the- the dead kids.” He grimaces as he says it. “Is there anything to link it to the government or do we just hope?”

“There might be enough,” Eret says.

Dream lifts his head, just enough to speak clearly. “There’s definitely enough there to get people angry, but if we don’t plan it right they’ll just twist it back on us.”

“Which is why we need the twins on board-”

“Out of the question.” Phil glares at Eret. “They’ve been through enough, I’m not asking that of them. And no one else is, either,” he says, glancing around the room.

“They need space, and time to recuperate,” Puffy says, quiet but authoritative. “They’ve been cut off from any semblance of normalcy for seven years, we have to be patient. Take things slow.”

“What about the government shitbags in the basement?” Schlatt suggests. “Maybe we get one of ‘em to turn informant.”

Sam hums, contemplative. “I could see that working, but we have to do it right.”

“Well, clearly they’re all morally compromised, they had no problem torturing kids,” Dream spits.

Chapter Text

Techno is coping with the strain of this situation in the only way he knows how.

Which is to say, by not coping with it.

It’s easier to just sit still and stare through the glass at Wilbur and let himself go numb. He doesn’t have to feel or think or move.

They’ve been in these little glass rooms for four days.

He’s counting the days, because he can, but the longer he’s outside of the facility the less he knows how to exist. It’s easy, sitting and going catatonic, letting the world pass by without touching him. Waiting for orders.

What isn’t easy is how Phil and Puffy keep insisting on talking to him. How they don’t stop talking until Techno responds.

How Tommy keeps showing up with books and board games and, once, his phone. How he makes Techno do things instead of just leaving him to sit.

What’s even harder than that, though, is sitting and staring at Wilbur for hours on end. Watching his brother cough and hack around the stuff choking him, watching him lay there and cry after every coughing fit, watching him flinch away from touch with no sign of recognition.

Part of Techno wants to say yes don’t let them touch you that’s bad but a bigger part of him, a far more rational part, thinks they’re helping you, let them.

And it’s kind of scary, how quickly he’s fallen into the trap of trusting them. Because this is not safe, it cannot be safe. They’re going to make Techno think he can trust them, and then they’ll take Wilbur away. Or they’ll keep doing this, holding Wilbur just out of reach, but where Techno can see him and know the wordless threat.

The handlers did that, once. The first day Techno was supposed to train with his powers, they put a big screen up on the wall showing Wilbur’s cell. Knowing the time frame, it can’t have been more than a couple years after they got to the facility. He’d have been eleven or twelve.

He remembers thinking it was a good thing, for a second. Seeing Wilbur.

And then he’d realized Wilbur was sedated- even then, Techno knew that’s what his half-closed eyes and slack expression meant- and that’s when he’d seen the gun pressed to his twin’s head.

He had behaved perfectly, and they hadn’t hurt Wilbur even once.

…somehow, Techno can’t picture Phil or Niki or Puffy or- or any of these people holding a gun on Wilbur.

“How’re you doing today, Techno?”

He rouses himself from his stupor, forces his gaze to the floor. Phil will be expecting an answer.

“Fine.”

Techno’s not sure if he actually is, but it seems like the thing to say. Phil hums, sounding unconvinced.

“I brought you some chicken noodle soup,” Phil says after a second. “Would you like me to set it on the table?”

Techno holds out his hand, watching out of the corner of his eye as Phil brings the bowl closer. It’s warm, and he tries not to pull it closer too sharply.

The soup is warm, too, and it tastes so good. Techno thinks he’s never going to get used to eating food that has flavor. He watches Wilbur while he eats, because Niki’s setting up the feeding pump again.

When he finishes, and hands the bowl back, Phil doesn’t leave. Techno hears ceramic clink against metal, and forces his hands to rest open in his lap, waiting.

“Is it okay if I ask you some questions about your powers?” Phil asks, quiet like usual but Techno still flinches.

He wants- he wants to say no. He doesn’t want to talk about it, he doesn’t want to think about it.

But then, he knew this was coming. He knew that sooner or later they would realize how useful he is, how strong his powers are.

“Do you want me to use them?” he asks, and his voice sounds thin and shaky. Walking through shadows hurts, and manipulating blood is hard and gives him blinding headaches if he does it too much.

“…do you want to?”

No. “I can.” Techno forces in a steadying breath. “If you turn them on.”

“Techno, do you want to?”

“I can,” he repeats. He doesn’t understand why they haven’t just turned his powers back on yet. Maybe they’re afraid he’ll try to escape.

He wouldn’t. Not without Wilbur, and Techno knows that even if he could get Wilbur away, his brother would probably die without the medical equipment.

“But do you want to?” Phil asks, again.

…no. No, he really, really doesn’t want to.

Speaking again takes an immense effort, Techno’s throat working around the words for a few seconds. “I can,” he says at last. “If you want. Sir,” he adds, as an afterthought.

Phil comes around to kneel in front of him, and Techno automatically drops his gaze to the floor, landing somewhere around the man’s knees.

“Techno, if you don’t want to, then you don’t have to.”

He should be impassive, emotionless, silent.

But Techno frowns. “I- I don’t-” He snaps his mouth shut, caging the words behind his teeth. He shouldn’t, he needs to be quiet-

“Don’t what?” Phil asks gently.

He flinches, closing his eyes for a second. “I don’t understand,” he breathes.

“What don’t you understand?”

How much longer until they realize what they’re supposed to do with him? “They… they gave me powers so I could use them,” he says.

“Did you want powers?” Phil shifts, feathers rustling.

…oh, oh. He’s going to cry again.

Techno shakes his head a little bit. He didn’t. He didn’t want this, he doesn’t want them.

“Oh, mate.” Phil sounds so sad, and Techno risks a glance up at his face. He looks sad, too. “I’m so sorry.”

“They… they hurt,” he whispers, staring at his hands. “I don’t like it. Sometimes when I use them it makes my head hurt so much I can’t see.”

“I’m so sorry,” Phil repeats. “Techno, I am so, so sorry they did that to you.”

Techno’s breath hitches, and his hands close in his lap. “Please, I- I don’t want you to turn them back on,” he whimpers, hunching over himself. “Please, they hurt.”

He knows- he knows that this isn’t up to him. If they want him to use his powers he will, to protect Wilbur, but- but he doesn’t want to. He likes not being in pain anymore, it feels- it feels so good, and he wants that to last.

“We won’t,” Phil says, voice quiet and steady. “You don’t ever have to use your powers again.”

For a few seconds everything just stops.

He shouldn’t believe it. There’s no way that can be true, but- but Phil hasn’t done anything he said he wouldn’t do.

And. And Techno doesn’t want to use his powers. Not ever again. It’s an idea he can hardly comprehend, but he wants- he wants that, so badly. No more headaches, no more of that awful sick compressing feeling of slipping into the shadows.

A sob punches out of his chest, it hurts but it’s almost a good kind of hurt.

“Oh- oh, Techno.” Phil moves closer, and Techno doesn’t flinch. He can’t. He can only sit and cry. “Can I touch you, mate?”

And for some reason Techno doesn’t think about the possibility of it hurting, and he just nods frantically.

Phil scoots closer, slowly placing his hands on Techno’s arms, and he’s so gentle and his hands are so warm that Techno sobs harder, slumping forward. Phil catches him with a surprised sound.

“You okay?”

Techno presses his face into Phil’s shoulder, gripping the man’s shirt. After a second Phil’s arms wrap around him, one hand rubbing his back gently.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Phil murmurs. “I’ve got you, Techno. It’s gonna be okay.”

He should be scared, he should be so, so scared.

The only thing Techno can feel is an overwhelming sense of safety, a need to press closer and hide here, despite the way the touch makes his skin prickle uncomfortably.

He sits there for a long time, in Phil’s arms, shuddering and sobbing and gasping for breath, and Phil just holds him. Just holds him and rubs his back and says it’s gonna be okay, I’ve got you, over and over again until Techno can almost, almost believe him.

~~~

“-and anyway, Tubbo was telling me that he wants to be a snowboarder- d’you know what snowboarding is, big man?”

Phil suppresses the urge to laugh at Techno’s slightly baffled expression. Succeeding, if only because he doesn’t want to discourage him from displaying his emotions.

In the two days since Techno broke down in his arms, the teen has been less guarded. Not very, but certainly less. And it’s wonderful, to catch those brief seconds when he smiles at some joke Tommy’s told, or he makes a quip of his own- and even those times when he looks confused or scared, because at least Phil has some idea of what he’s feeling.

“…no?” Techno frowns.

As Tommy launches into an animated explanation, hands flying as he speaks, Phil leans against the wall, observing. Techno seems more comfortable around Tommy, and Phil’s stopped trying to keep him out of the room. Still, he watches them carefully, because Tommy can be a bit much at times.

It’s been a little over a week, and Phil dares to hope that they’ve made a breakthrough. That maybe Techno’s starting to trust them.

“-so, yeah, anyway, the mountains can be kind of dangerous. That’s the thing he’s really worried about, he knows Ranboo and I would kill him if he got caught in an avalanche-”

Techno drops.

Phil’s at his side almost before he can process what happened, catching Techno and lowering him more gently to the floor. He fumbles for a pulse, and it’s there- Techno’s eyes are closed, he’s breathing and his heart is beating, and Phil doesn’t understand what just happened.

“Niki!” Tommy yells, high-pitched and scared. “Holy shit- Niki, Mom, come quick-”

Niki gets there first, drops to her knees beside Phil. “What happened?”

He tries to adjust Techno into a more comfortable position, keeping one hand on the pulse point in his throat. “He just went down, I don’t know-”

Niki starts checking his vitals; Phil settles Techno’s head on his arm.

“C’mon, mate, don’t do this to us,” Phil says under his breath. After everything they went through, if something happens to him now-

He smooths the teen’s forehead, rubbing a circle on Techno’s temple with his thumb. Concentrates on the slow, but steady and strong, heartbeat under his fingertips.

“He’s stable,” Niki says after a minute. “I don’t know-”

“What happened?” Kristin kneels, hands hovering over Techno’s shoulders.

“Tommy was talking to him, and he just dropped,” Phil explains, heart skipping. “Did- is he okay?”

Kristin sets one hand on his head, the other in the middle of his chest. “He’s sleeping,” she says after a few seconds, sounding confused. “He’s just asleep.”

“Wait- wait, fuck, it’s a trigger,” Tommy says suddenly. “Like Ranboo’s. We were talking and I said- I said avalanche and Techno went down.”

Of course, why didn’t Phil think of that sooner? They all know about Ranboo’s trigger words. The conditioning that Bad and Puffy have been working so hard to undo.

It was a different facility, but the same government, the same hero program. Of course it makes sense that the same type of thing would’ve been done to Techno, and maybe even Wilbur.

Phil exhales shakily. “So he should be fine.”

Techno’s just lying in his lap, completely still except the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest. His expression is drawn, vaguely pained; not restful, like he’s actually sleeping. Phil wants to smooth away those lines, wants to fix this- and oh, god, he’s really getting attached, isn’t he?

“I’ll check his file,” Niki says. “But for now, yeah, let’s get him into bed.”

And once again they’re faced with moving the teen, nearly six feet tall and a hundred and ninety pounds of pure muscle, back into his bed.

It’s difficult, but the three of them manage, and then it’s a matter of waiting. Phil pulls a sheet up to his chest, gently draping Techno’s arms across his stomach. Niki clips a pulse oximeter on his finger and goes to check on Wilbur.

Phil pulls the chair over and sinks down beside Techno, and for now he gives in to the impulse to hold the kid’s hand, to gently brush his thumb over pale skin. Kristin comes across to kiss Phil briefly before leaving, closing the door most of the way behind her.

Tommy’s still standing in the corner of the room, and Phil realizes he’s trembling. He holds out one arm to his son.

“C’mere, Toms,” he murmurs.

“’s my fault,” Tommy whispers, but he comes and curls into Phil’s side under his wing anyway. “I’m the one who said it-”

“You didn’t know.” Phil sighs, tucking Tommy’s head against his shoulder. “It’s okay, mate, you didn’t do anything wrong. We know now, and we won’t say it again.”

“I know, but… but still.”

Phil hums. He gets it, Tommy accidentally triggered Ranboo’s dissociative state once. The blank compliance was eerie, uncanny. Terrifying, because the teen would have done anything asked of him without questioning it, whether good or bad.

“You didn’t know,” he repeats. “And Techno’s not hurt, he’s just asleep, he’ll be fine soon.” I hope.

Three hours, almost to the minute, pass before Techno so much as stirs.

And according to the files, that’s the expected outcome of that particular word. There’s a second one, to send him into a violent rage, and Phil makes sure that that word, in particular, is not going to be spoken anywhere near Techno. He won’t be nearly as lethal without powers, but he’s still physically strong enough to cause a lot of harm.

When Techno finally does move, it’s so small that Phil almost misses it. Just a flutter of his eyelids, face contracting ever so slightly in discomfort.

“Shh,” Phil murmurs softly, smoothing his hand ever so gently over Techno’s hair. “Shh, mate, you’re okay. It’s okay.”

A tiny whine slips past Techno’s lips, and it strikes Phil how much younger he seems. He is young, the twins both act so young, and it makes a sickening kind of sense. They were just ten when they were taken, they haven’t had the time or socialization or stimulus to properly grow up.

“It’s okay, shh, you’re okay. You’re safe.” Phil just barely keeps himself from bending over and kissing the teen’s forehead like he would do to Tommy. He doubts Techno would appreciate that. “You’re safe, your brother is safe, everything is okay.”

The little movements still, Techno exhales a bit more deeply. Phil cups his cheek, thumb tracing gently over Techno’s cheekbone.

Less than a minute passes before Techno stirs again, more determinedly this time, whimpering softly. Phil gently turns Techno’s face towards him.

“Hey, you waking up?” he murmurs.

Techno makes another little sound, opening his eyes for a brief instant. Phil squeezes his hand lightly.

“There’s no rush. You can wake up any time you want, you’re okay.”

Techno takes a deeper breath, blinking repeatedly. Phil sighs, prepares himself for a potential panic attack.

“You’re safe,” he repeats. “You and Wilbur are both safe. There’s nothing to worry about, you can go right back to sleep if you want to.”

Another deep breath. Techno doesn’t speak, but his hand closes around Phil’s, the movement barely a twitching of his fingers. He blinks, frowning more deeply.

“Are you with me?” Phil twists a little more to face him.

“Mmm.”

Techno blinks again, and then he’s launching upright. Phil yanks his hands back as Techno’s chest heaves, as he struggles for breath.

“Easy,” Phil says, his own heart pounding in his throat. “Easy, you’re okay-”

~~~

Techno’s head hurts.

He can’t open his eyes. Why can’t he open his eyes?

Someone’s touching him, and it’s warm, and he doesn’t… doesn’t know why he isn’t scared. The hand stroking over his head is so gentle.

A voice. Quiet and kind and he wants to cry, it’s so much more than he deserves.

He tries to open his eyes. He was supposed to… to do something? Is that right? He doesn’t remember, it doesn’t… feel like he was.

He blinks at the white plaster ceiling, that’s… not right. It’s supposed to be tiled.

“-with me?”

He blinks again, and it comes rushing back. The med bay, the conversation- the trigger.

He jolts upright, regretting it instantly as his head spins. The hand holding his is suddenly constricting, restraining, and he needs- he needs it off-

Whoever it is lets go before Techno can start to panic. Or- or panic worse? He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe.

“-’re okay, you’re safe,” the voice says. “Techno, you’re safe, Wilbur is safe, you just need to breathe-”

They know. They know the word to make him fall asleep, how to make him helpless without needing to get close enough to use sedatives.

A hand touches his back and Techno can’t help it, he screams, flinching away, trying to pull into himself so he can’t be hurt. He shouldn’t, he should be still and take it, take the pain and the punishment or they’ll hurt Wilbur, they’ll hurt his twin-

He curls up as tight as he can, hiding his face in his knees and clasping his hands over his head, he thinks he’s crying. The touch doesn’t come back but there’s a voice, he can’t make out the words and that’s bad, he needs to listen and obey so they don’t hurt Wilbur and he’s being bad, he’s being so bad-

The hand is back but this time Techno can’t pull away before a kind of unnatural calm washes over him. He slumps, but the tears don’t stop coming.

“Can you hear me, mate?” a voice murmurs.

He flinches, but the hand stays on his back, rubbing gently. Techno can still feel his panic, muted and distant, smothered by the artificial calmness still washing over him.

“You’re okay,” the man says, voice steady and gentle. “You’re safe, Techno. You and Wilbur are both safe. Can you take some deep breaths for me mate?”

Wilbur, he wants- they’re gonna hurt Wilbur because Techno’s not behaving and he can’t- he can’t-

Another wave hits him and Techno collapses against the wall, his body suddenly too weak to stay upright. The hand rubs another circle on his back.

“I know. Shh, I know you’re scared. Breathe, okay?”

An order. Techno closes his eyes and tries to obey, getting a stuttering aching inhale.

“Good, that’s good. Another?”

The man talks him through breathing for- for Techno doesn’t know how long. A while. Until he can breathe on his own, until it doesn’t hurt anymore. The pulsing calm has stopped, leaving Techno to go boneless against the wall, spent and exhausted.

“There you go, Techno.” The hand on his back moves up to rest on his shoulder. “You’re okay, mate, you’re safe.”

The hand squeezes gently, and Techno tries to flinch away. “Please,” he whimpers, he knows it’s no good begging but he can’t help it. “P- please don’t, m’sorry, ‘ll be good-”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” the man says, he sounds… sad? “You just had a panic attack, mate, there’s nothing wrong with that. I’m sorry I scared you.”

He tries to curl in on himself, but he’s too weak and tired to move. All that he manages to do is whine softly as he sits there and trembles, waiting for the pain to start.

“Can you look at me?”

It’s so hard to move his head but Techno does, looking to the side and forcing his eyes to open no matter how much the light hurts. He sees straight blond hair hanging loose around a kind face, warm blue eyes. A soft, worried smile.

“There you are,” the man murmurs, “you’re okay, Techno.”

Phil. His breath hitches, his brain finally catching up with where he is. “Please- please don’t, I don’t- I’ll behave, you don’t have to use the word-”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. We won’t say it, Techno. We wouldn’t do that to you mate.” Phil’s hand drops from his shoulder.

The next second he’s lifting Techno’s hand, making Techno’s breath stutter in his chest for a few seconds. It- it feels- he doesn’t know. Nobody’s held his hand in. In so long. Nobody except Wilbur, whose hands are thin and cold and bony. Not like Phil, his hand is warm, calloused.

He can’t help the way his fingers curl around Phil’s. It’s stupid, because he isn’t safe, there’s no way this is safe, but he wants-

Techno just wants to believe that it’ll all be okay.

He wants to trust Phil, he knows he shouldn’t but he wants to so badly. So Techno closes his eyes tightly, and holds on to Phil’s hand, and pulls out another broken piece of him.

“There-” The words stick in his throat. He coughs, forces them out. “There’s another word. To make me- hurt people.”

“I know,” Phil says soothingly. “We know, Techno.”

“I don’ wan’ hurt anyone,” Techno mumbles, the rest of his energy is draining away quickly and he can’t keep his eyes open or his head up anymore.

“Oh, mate.” Phil’s hand brushes his face. The contact is only there for a brief second and Techno chases it, whining. Phil cups his cheek in one warm palm, light and gentle and everything. “It’s okay, you don’t have to. We’ll never make you hurt anyone.”

~~~

Techno stays closed up in that little glass room for another five days.

It’s somehow more bearable, and harder at the same time. He feels like he’s walking on eggshells, waiting for the tension to snap, waiting to mess up so badly that someone punishes him. But with Phil it’s almost… easier, sometimes. Easier to sit and listen, easier to trust.

And then, one day, Phil says, “Niki tells me you don’t need to stay in here anymore.”

Techno looks past him at Wilbur, throat constricting. “Oh,” he manages.

He knew this was coming, he knew it could only be so long before they made him leave Wilbur. He doesn’t want to, but he will, because he knows better than to disobey-

“But if you’d rather stay near Wilbur, it’s okay for you to stay here until he’s well enough to leave.”

Wait. What?

They- no. That can’t be right. Phil can’t mean that.

See, Techno knows how this works. He doesn’t get to stay with Wilbur, they were just keeping him here because they thought Techno might get sick too. Because this is their medical bay, this is where people come when they’re hurt or sick and Techno isn’t.

“I don’t- I don’t understand,” he whispers.

He says that a lot. Phil never gets mad at him for it, though. Just asks what it is, and then explains gently, quietly.

“What don’t you understand?” Phil asks, leaning his elbows on his knees.

This is the most difficult part of it. Finding the right words for whatever issue he’s having. Phil is patient, though, sitting and waiting as long as Techno needs.

“I’m not sick,” he says at last. “So I shouldn’t stay in here anymore. Where I’m in the way.”

“You’re not in the way.” Phil’s expression pinches. “Besides, don’t you wanna be closer to Wilbur?”

Yes. Yes, he does. He really does. But-

“’s not allowed,” he whispers.

“It is here,” Phil says. “You can stay in this room as long as you need. It’s gonna take some more time for Wilbur to recover, and we don’t want to separate you if we don’t have to.”

Oh. Oh, that… that’s nice. It’s really… Techno wouldn’t expect that. But then it kind of makes sense. Because they haven’t made him leave Wilbur yet, except for a few minutes every once in a while to go use the bathroom, which is something he kind of has to do.

And yet.

It’s selfish, but Techno wants more than to just sit and stare through glass at his twin. He wants to at least hold Wilbur’s hand, but he can’t ask. He knows better than to ask.

And then, “D’you want to sit with him for a while?” Phil asks gently.

Techno tries to choke back a longing sound, tries to stop himself rocking towards the barrier. He shouldn’t- do this, shouldn’t show them how much he wants to be with his brother, they’ll just use it against him later-

Phil hums, half laughing. “C’mon.”

This is something else that’s changed recently- Phil touches him, now. Always careful and gentle, like he thinks Techno will break. Or have a panic attack at the slightest physical contact.

He wraps his hand around Techno’s elbow, guides him up. Out of the room, to the threshold of Wilbur’s, which is where Techno freezes.

He doesn’t know why this keeps happening. Why he keeps getting stuck trying to go into doors. It’s stupid, it’s so stupid, because he wants to go in. Wilbur is right there and Techno wants to go to him, but he can’t force himself to take that step.

“It’s okay,” Phil says gently. “Here, Techno, you can come in and hold his hand.”

After a second Phil moves around in front of Techno and shifts to hold his wrists instead. He tugs, and Techno’s feet move, and he’s in Wilbur’s room.

He stumbles across to sit in the chair Phil’s pulled over beside Wilbur’s bed. Hesitantly takes his twin’s hand, breath catching when Wilbur stirs.

Thin fingers tighten around his hand, ever-so-slightly, and Wilbur blinks. For an instant he tenses up, and Techno expects him to start crying again like he has been doing so often when someone touches him. But Wilbur just blinks at him, and sighs, smiling under the oxygen mask.

-safe now safe-

“I’m here,” Techno breathes, squeezing Wilbur’s hand carefully.

-love you techno came back-

The whisper of Wilbur’s voice in his head is even softer than before, but Techno hears him clearer than his own thoughts.

“I didn’t leave,” he says, his own voice is strained and thin. “I’ve been in the next room, I’ve been watching you.”

Wilbur hums, probably only audible to Techno’s enhanced hearing. Tries to squeeze Techno’s hand again.

Techno’s here, finally, and he doesn’t want to let go. Not ever.

~~~

One of the many pros of having a secret identity is being able to pass as an ordinary civilian when necessary.

Kristin adjusts the papers under her arm and knocks lightly on the office door. They’d discussed whether or not to contact the twins’ former social worker for a long time, and eventually decided that it was probably better to do so. It’s not likely he cares about a couple of kids who vanished seven years ago, but there might be someone out there who does.

When the door opens, she smiles and launches into her pre-planned speech. “Hi, my name is Tricia Graves, I work with Social Services in Logstead. I’m here to discuss two former cases of yours?”

The man looks harried and stressed, but he nods, gesturing. “Come on in, I can give you thirty minutes before my next appointment.”

“Of course.” Kristin sits down, placing the folder on the desk.

“So, who are you here to ask about?” the man asks, sitting in his rolling chair and moving it over to the file cabinet.

“You may not remember them- Techno and Wilbur Soot?”

She’s genuinely surprised when he looks up, paling.

“Oh my god.” The man grips the arms of the chair. “Oh god, you- you found them?”

Kristin nods, opening the folder but not making a move to pass it to him yet. “Two weeks ago.”

“Are they-” He inhales, exhales shakily. Looks away like he’s trying to process it. “Do you know how it happened, did- would they have suffered?”

Oh. “They’re alive,” Kristin says quietly.

He looks utterly stunned, again. “What?” he breathes.

She passes the photographs across to him, and the man leans his elbows on the desk, staring at them. They edited Techno’s to hide the physical changes from his mutation, but there was no concealing how pale and drawn both of them are, how sick Wilbur looks under the oxygen mask. The shaved hair and sharp cheekbones and glazed eyes.

“Oh my god,” the social worker says under his breath. “Oh my god.” He picks up the page, covering his mouth with one hand for a second. “Are, are- are they safe?”

“They’re safe,” Kristin says quickly, firmly. “They’re being treated at a private rehabilitation facility in Logstead.”

“Good. Good, that’s-” The man exhales shakily. “What happened to them?”

“It’s complicated, and we’re keeping most of the details private, for the twins’ sake.” Kristin adjusts the papers in the folder again. “What I can tell you is that seven years ago, they were kidnapped on their way home from school. Recently a private investigative group found them and brought them to us.”

“I’m- that’s good to hear.” The man passes the photos back across the desk. “I thought they were dead,” he says after a second. “After a while I started to hope they were, that they- they didn’t suffer.”

Kristin doesn’t have personal experience with the foster care system, but she knows how rare it is to find a social worker who actually, genuinely cares about the kids assigned to them. She can’t help but feel compassion for the man.

“They’re safe now, and receiving treatment and therapy.” Therapy being a bit of a broad term, given that Puffy isn’t licensed and most of the conversations that have been had were with Phil, but still.

“Can I- would it be possible for me to see them?”

That, Kristin wishes she could say yes to; but they can’t risk revealing the location of the base, or that the Syndicate was involved at all. “I’m sorry, but as I’m sure you’ll understand, we’re trying to keep everything confidential, to make all of this less overwhelming. They’ve been through an incredibly traumatic experience.”

The social worker nods, sitting back slightly. “I- that’s good,” he says. “That they’re- that you’re taking care of them.”

“Is there anyone else we should contact? Relatives, close friends?”

“They were orphaned at two. No family, and there were no particularly close foster families.” After a second he gets up, goes across to a tall locked cabinet in the corner of the room. “Ah- I have some things of theirs- the last house returned them and I always kept them, I don’t- never knew why.”

He hands her a child-sized backpack, dark blue. Kristin glances into it briefly, at a tattered handmade quilt tucked around a pair of well-loved plushies, a few worn paperbacks. She smiles softly.

“I’m sure they’ll be glad to have these,” she murmurs. “Thank you.”

“It’s the least I can do.” The man shifts. “I’d appreciate any- any future updates you might be able to give me about them.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Kristin says, and she means it.

~~~

Techno thinks Wilbur might be starting to get better.

It’s hard to be sure. Because Wilbur is still really sick, he’s still got the mask on his face helping him breathe, and he’s still not eating anything by himself, but- but he’s not coughing as much, and that’s good, right?

He thinks they’ve been with the Syndicate for fifteen days now. Or maybe sixteen. It’s hard to remember sometimes.

It’s all so strange, still, but Techno is getting used to it. To gentle touches and regular, tasty meals and Wilbur’s hand in his. To Phil, quiet and careful and kind, and Tommy, who is so loud but whose presence is… comforting. In a way Techno doesn’t understand.

He’s sitting with Wilbur. They let him do that every day now, just sit and hold his twin’s hand. Wilbur doesn’t wake up much but when he does, he squeezes Techno’s hand and sends a steady stream of his thoughts.

Techno hasn’t told anybody about that. He probably should.

But, but.

It’s a power. It must be, and the facility didn’t know about it because if they had they would’ve kept testing on Wilbur. And Techno- he thinks he can trust Phil, but- but trusting him to be kind to them is one thing. Techno can’t use his powers, so he isn’t a threat, but he has no way of knowing what they might do to his twin.

So he keeps the telepathic link a secret, and Wilbur stays safe.

Phil knocks on the door- they usually knock before coming in, Techno guesses they’re trying not to startle him. He thinks he likes that.

“Hey, mate.” Phil smiles. “I brought you something.”

He holds up-

Wait.

That’s- that’s Techno’s backpack. Not his school one, it’s the one he had some of his stuff packed in in case they needed to run away from a bad house.

He doesn’t realize he’s reaching for it until Phil puts it in his hands. The backpack seems so small- was Techno ever this small, really?

He just holds it for a few seconds. Unzips the bag and sees-

It’s his and Wilbur’s quilt from when they were babies. One of the only things they had left from their bio parents, the parents they don’t remember. They used to sleep with it every night, and Techno takes it out and runs his fingers lightly over the worn-out fabric. Their names embroidered in the corner.

And underneath is Carl. And Friend.

Techno feels like he’s gonna cry. He puts the blanket back in the backpack and picks up Carl, burying his face in the soft toy.

“Is that yours?” Phil murmurs.

Techno almost doesn’t want to answer but he nods, tucks Carl under his chin. Even as scared as he is to reveal more (old memories of foster houses tell him it’s a bad idea to show Phil how much they care about these things) he takes Friend out of the backpack, too, settling him in the crook of Wilbur’s elbow.

“Mr. C.- our, our social worker- he said our mum ‘n’ dad gave them to us,” he whispers after a minute. “Before they died.”

It’s stupid, it’s so stupid, but- somehow, somehow Techno can’t imagine Phil using this against them. Taking away the last things they got from their real parents and destroying them.

“They must be really, really special,” Phil says softly. “I’m glad we could get them back for you.”

Techno wonders how, but he doesn’t really care. All that matters is- is that they have them back.

Wilbur wakes up a while later. Smiles softly, under the mask, fingers curling around Techno’s hand.

-techno techno hi-

“Wil, look-” Techno grabs Friend, holding him up for Wilbur to see better. “Look, Phil found Carl and Friend-”

Wilbur’s smile brightens under the oxygen mask, still shaky and thin, and he doesn’t say- or think- anything, but Techno knows he’s happy. He squeezes Techno’s hand weakly.

“They found our blanket, too.” Techno takes it out of the backpack again, draping it over Wilbur’s stomach. “See?”

Wilbur’s eyes drift closed again for a second, but he smiles, fingers twitching around Techno’s hand again.

-stay stay here please-

It’s not really pleading or desperate, just- just quiet. Techno lays his head on the pillow, right beside Wilbur’s, and his twin rolls his head slightly sideways so their foreheads bump together.

“I’m staying,” Techno promises, like he does every time Wilbur wakes up and asks him to. “I’m with you.”

Chapter Text

Techno doesn’t feel good.

Not… not like he’s sick but just. Something feels wrong and he doesn’t know what.

He should probably tell Phil.

He doesn’t.

It’s not important. What matters is that Wilbur’s getting better. He doesn’t need the oxygen mask anymore and he’s not coughing as much and he looks stronger, healthier. It’s been a month, Techno thinks, since they came here. And Wilbur is finally getting better.

So Techno ignores the dull, pulsing headache and the mild increase in his body temperature. It’s nothing he needs to worry about. He’s felt worse after surgeries.

Wilbur is sleeping, and Techno’s playing a game with Tommy.

His headache has been steadily and gradually getting worse, and he’s trying really hard to ignore it, because it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter.

“-rn, big man.”

Techno blinks, uncomprehending. “Huh?”

“Your turn,” Tommy repeats, nodding at the board. “You good?”

Oh. Hm. It is… he’s having a hard time thinking clearly. Maybe the headache is worse than he thought? But… but no, he’s dealt with worse before… when he didn’t have to think. Huh.

And he’s thinking too much. He needs to move his piece.

Techno goes to reach for the board but his hand… his hand feels… tingly. He can’t…

Something is wrong.

“-on’t move- -’re okay-”

Static.

A voice is speaking, cutting in and out. He can’t… can’t move… he doesn’t hurt as much as… he can’t feel much of anything. It’s all fuzzy, distant.

He’s so tired.

“-r me?”

Techno tries to hum, it comes out as a weak gurgling rasp. There’s a metallic taste in his mouth… his head hurts.

“-ay, you h- -zure- -kay.”

The voice keeps cutting in and out and he can’t… he’s so tired. He wants to sleep.

Fingers tap his face and he blinks, or tries to. His vision is blurry.

“-eep, if- -ant.”

Techno’s eyes close despite him trying to keep them open.

He wakes up in bed.

Everything hurts. Techno chokes down a whine, he needs… he needs to be quiet, he needs to be good.

He feels like he did that one time he had a seizure after they tased him. He only knows that’s what it was because he woke up in the lab being poked and prodded at, getting brain scans, and one of the scientists said something about it not being normal.

It must’ve happened again… why did they put him back in his cell, why isn’t he in the lab?

“Hey, mate, are you awake?”

…oh. Right, he’s out.

Techno forces his eyes open, blinking at Phil. It hurts but he does it, squinting slightly, the lights are so bright.

Phil’s hand settles over his eyes, blocking the light- oh, that’s nice. Techno hums appreciatively.

“How’re you feeling?”

Techno frowns slightly, it’s kind of hard to think. “No’ great,” he mumbles.

“I bet.” Phil’s thumb brushes over his forehead in a repetitive soothing motion. “You had a seizure.”

“Mm.” He screws up his face. “Figured. ‘ve had one before.”

Phil is quiet for a long time. “It’s a side effect from your suppressor chip,” he says at last. “Power suppressors aren’t meant to be used long-term, and it’s starting to affect your body.”

That… that really doesn’t sound good.

“G’nna fix it?” Techno asks, because it makes sense. The chip is hurting him, so they’ll have to repair it.

“…yes.” Phil pauses, continuing to rub his thumb over Techno’s forehead. “You know we wouldn’t make you do anything you don’t want to unless it’s important.”

Techno’s stomach twists. Phil says that to him whenever they’re going to ask him to do something bad.

He… he can be strong. He can do what they want him to do.

I know, he tries to say, but he can’t get the words out past the lump in his throat.

“Mate?” Phil prompts, gentle.

He feels like he’s going to cry. Nods slightly, trying not to dislodge Phil’s hand.

The man inhales slowly. “We can’t figure out how to turn the chip off,” he says. “If we could, we’d do that instead.”

Please, Techno wants to beg. Please just tell me.

Phil takes a couple more deep breaths. “We need to do a small surgery to remove it.”

…oh.

It takes… a while, he thinks, to shake the static fuzzing over his brain. Phil’s hand is still resting on his forehead. Techno is still laying in his bed in a little glass room next to where Wilbur is. He’s out of the lab, he is in the Syndicate base, and they want to do a surgery.

Techno can handle that. He can. He can. He has done before, he’s- he hates them but he can handle a surgery.

But still- “How much will it hurt?” he asks, because if it’s going to be bad then he won’t be able to drift away, detaching his mind from his body. If it’s going to be bad then he’s going to have to feel it, all of it, and he wants time to prepare for that.

Phil’s expression contorts. “It won’t hurt, mate,” he says. “You’ll have to be awake, but Niki’s gonna give you something so you don’t feel it.”

Techno processes that information. Tries to.

Being awake, he understands. That’s normal. That’s procedure.

“You- I don’t understand.” Trying to think about it makes his head hurt. “I don’t have to feel it?”

Phil’s expression twists again. “No, you don’t. We’d let you sleep through it if we could, but we can’t.”

They would… what? That- that doesn’t- “I don’t understand.” Techno tries not to whine. “You… you can do that? Put someone to sleep for surgery?”

“Yeah,” Phil says, and his voice sounds sad. “We won’t be able to do it for this, but most of the time, yes.”

“Then- then why-” His breath hitches, it hurts. “Why didn’t they- why c- couldn’t they-”

He doesn’t want to but he sobs. Why did they hurt him, if they didn’t have to, why-

“Oh, Techno.” Phil moves, and Techno just reaches for him, he wants- he wants- he doesn’t know but he wants something-

Phil’s arms wrap around him, one hand settling on the back of Techno’s head, and oh. This is what he needed.

He presses his face into Phil’s shoulder with another broken sob, clinging to the man’s shirt. Phil rubs his back gently, in slow steady circles. He doesn’t seem to care that Techno’s getting his shirt all messy, and Techno cries harder. Even before, even in a foster house, nobody would be this nice. Foster parents never liked it when he and Wilbur cried and some of them hit them when they did and now- and now-

Phil’s humming, low and gentle, just rubbing Techno’s back and holding his head up against his own shoulder.

“It’s okay,” Phil murmurs. “You’re not gonna be hurt again, Techno. You’re safe now.”

“Why?” He sobs. It hurts, it’s all so big and he doesn’t know how to live with it. “Wh- why d-id they hurt me so much?”

“Oh, mate.” Phil still sounds so sad and Techno doesn’t know why that makes him feel a little better. “They were bad people, that’s why. You never did anything to deserve that, you were just a kid, that should never have happened to you.”

And he- he knows that, logically, but to hear it-

Techno grips Phil’s shirt tighter, surely hurting him but the man doesn’t protest, Phil actually holds him tighter, too.

“It’s okay now.” Phil shifts, pulling Techno a little more upright, rocking him gently. “Nobody’s gonna hurt you again.”

The room they take him to for the surgery is…

Techno doesn’t know what to think.

It’s… dimly lit. And not white. And there’s a chair of some sort sitting in the middle of the room, that is white but it’s not a shiny metal table.

He looks for Phil, confused, before remembering that Phil’s not here right now, he had to stay outside. They said he would come in once Techno was settled.

Techno still doesn’t know what to expect from any of this.

In the facility things were routine, simple. In the facility they would have put him on the table and strapped him down and injected the paralytics by now.

Here, Niki is talking quietly to him, explaining what she’s going to do as she guides him to sit in the chair. It’s a weird kind of chair, it has a support in the front instead of the back and Niki has him lean against it, putting his chin in the rest.

Someone else is talking to him, and Techno doesn’t notice the needle going into his arm until it’s in and the sedatives are flooding his system, dragging him under in a potent wave.

He resurfaces slowly.

Everything is… slow. Muddled. Techno blinks, and it feels like a long time before his eyes open again. There’s a bright light behind him, he thinks, but he can’t really see it, just his shadow.

“Hey, mate, how’re you doing?”

Hmm. That sounds like Phil. Where is- oh, there, Phil’s sitting right in front of him.

Techno tries to reach for him, but his arms don’t work. “Ph’l.”

“Yeah, I’m here.” The man’s eyes crinkle at the corners, like he’s smiling under the mask he’s wearing. “Can you tell me your name?”

His name. He knows his name, right? “Techno… Soot.”

“Good, that’s good,” Phil says. “How do you feel?”

He has to think about that for a minute. “Fuzzy. Slow.”

“Yeah, I bet.” Phil shifts. “Are you in any pain?”

Hm. Techno has to think about that, too.

He can feel… pressure. In the back of his neck. It probably should hurt but. But it doesn’t.

“Mmmno.”

“It doesn’t hurt?” Phil prompts.

“Nope.”

“Good, that’s what we want.”

After that Phil holds up a lot of cards with shapes, or colors, or pictures on them, and has Techno say what they are. Phil nods every time Techno gets an answer right, which is… all of them, he’s pretty sure. It takes a lot of focus, and he can still… he can still feel the weird pressure in his neck, it keeps changing, he doesn’t like it…

“Okay,” somebody else says after a while, interrupting one of Phil’s questions. “We’re done here, let’s put him back under and close up.”

Techno frowns a little, humming questioningly.

“You’re just gonna go back to sleep,” Phil says. “Just for a little while. And I’ll be right there when you wake up.”

Oh, that’s okay then.

Techno willingly sinks into the blackness.

~~~

Wilbur wakes up, and Techno isn’t with him.

He’s really tired, there’s someone is in the room with him… it isn’t Techno and he whines, he wants his brother.

“Oh, honey, you’re okay-”

The person touches his shoulder, they’re gentle but it’s wrong, it’s all wrong. He wants Techno.

“Here, you want Friend?” the woman murmurs.

…yes, but Wilbur really wants his brother. He sniffles, curling his hand around the worn toy. “Wan’ Teh’no.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I know you miss him.” She rubs his shoulder gently. “He’s gonna come see you again soon.”

Wilbur looks over at the wall between their rooms, the lights in both rooms are dim but he can see Techno laying in bed. Phil is sitting with him, and Techno looks… he looks…

There’s a bandage around his neck and a thin tube under his nose and he looks pale, really pale.

“Di’ he get hurt?” Wilbur croaks.

“Sort of.” The woman hums softly. “His power suppressor chip was hurting him, so we had to do a small surgery and take it out.”

Wilbur frowns, he doesn’t like that. “’s bad. Tech doesn’ like surgery.”

“This one was different. He wasn’t in any pain, he wasn’t even awake enough to know what was happening.”

Wilbur blinks a few times, it’s hard to clear his mind, he’s so tired. He’s always tired but the doctors say that’s because his body is using so much energy to heal.

“So… so he’s okay?”

“Yes, Wilbur, he’s okay.”

It’s hard to make his limbs cooperate but Wilbur wriggles around until he’s lying on his side, facing Techno. The woman fixes the blanket, tucking it up around his shoulder; leans over to put Friend back in his hands.

“He doesn’ look good.”

“He’s healing.” The woman’s voice is so gentle. “He’ll be back to normal really soon, honey.”

Wilbur really wants to stay awake and wait for Techno, but he’s so tired and his eyes feel so heavy. He tucks Friend under his chin, and stares at Techno until he can’t keep his eyes open anymore.

~~~

He can… he can feel it. Blood pumping, his own and… and someone else’s.

They… they left his powers on?

Techno can’t remember… what happened.

They must have sedated him. Right? He… he doesn’t know why they would, but that’s what it feels like.

He could…

He shouldn’t.

…but he could.

They left his powers on and he could- he knows how. He could kill whatever scientist is here to hurt him and he could get out, he could…

He can’t. They have Wilbur, they’d hurt Wilbur, and Techno can’t let that happen.

But he can’t… he can’t figure out why they left his powers on, it… doesn’t make sense. They never do that, they only make him use his powers when… when he’s training, and he isn’t training right now, he’s- he’s-

He doesn’t know what he was doing. What he’s supposed to be doing.

If he was just training then it should hurt, because it always hurts after. And he doesn’t…

He can’t feel much of anything, at the moment.

Is he- is he even real? He doesn’t feel real. He can’t feel his body and that’s… that’s not good, it shouldn’t be…

Maybe he died.

Is that why he feels so funny? Did he die?

Oh god, if Techno’s dead then what did they do to Wilbur? What- is Wilbur dead too? Wilbur can’t be dead, he can’t be, Techno was so good and he behaved so well, he obeyed and trained and fought and took the pain, all of it, for Wilbur, to protect him, he can’t be dead-

“Aw, mate, shh, it’s okay-”

Techno whimpers, the voice is so nice, and so are the hands that touch his face. He’s… oh, he’s crying?

Is… maybe he’s dreaming? He dreams about his parents sometimes- his real parents, not… not the foster parents.

Yes, Techno decides, he must be dreaming. Why else would the nice voice keep talking to him?

“What’s wrong, Tech?” the man murmurs. “Are you in pain?”

He’s still crying, but his dad- it has to be his dad, in the dream, nobody else would be this kind to him- keeps wiping away his tears.

“Does it hurt?”

Techno shakes his head a little, it’s hard to move but he… he doesn’t hurt, he just doesn’t feel like he exists. Though, that’s probably because he’s dreaming, right? It makes sense that he can’t feel anything while he’s dreaming.

“Okay,” his dad murmurs, his hands are still so gentle, it’s such a nice dream that more tears well up in Techno’s eyes. “Shh, it’s okay. I know, the drugs are no fun, but you’re gonna feel better soon.”

…drugs? Maybe they did more tests…

It’s so hard to think.

The dream is drifting away, and Techno wants to hold on to it, he really tries, but his dad’s voice is so soothing and quiet and he can’t help falling into the blackness.

Techno’s head aches.

It’s the first thing he’s aware of, it’s not a bad headache but it’s there, all the same.

The second thing is that he can feel his blood, his and someone else’s, and he doesn’t… that’s not good. That means his powers are on, and that’s confusing, because he also feels like he’s been drugged.

Someone’s holding his hand.

-it’s okay techno i’m here-

Wilbur? Is that… that’s Wilbur’s voice, in his head… he remembers that, he thinks.

He can- he can hear. A low, quiet mechanical hum; a higher-pitched hissing, harsh breathing.

“Teh’no?”

That is Wilbur, it’s his voice, raspy and barely audible. Techno tries to answer, but he can’t… he can’t move. He can’t open his eyes.

Something- no, not something, a door he’s pretty sure- slides open and closed again.

“Hey, Wilbur,” a man’s voice says softly. “How’re you feeling?”

“Little better,” Wilbur mumbles. “’s Techno…”

…he’s right here, he’s awake, he’s just stuck-

“He’s okay,” the man says. “Kristin said she mentioned the surgery, do you remember that?”

The surgery. Techno… Techno remembers that, kind of. Something was wrong with the chip in his neck, so they took it out… Oh, that’s why he can feel his powers.

Phil was with him. Wasn’t he?

“Kinda.”

“Well,” Phil says, “he’s having a bit of a hard time coming around from the anesthesia. We thought he might be a little more comfortable waking up with you.”

Techno is awake, he’s trying to show it, he’s trying to squeeze Wilbur’s hand but he can’t. He can’t.

“Oh.” Wilbur’s quiet for a minute. “Is he… is he gonna be all right?”

A hand- Phil’s hand, Techno thinks- touches his neck, fingers pressing against a pulse point. One of those vulnerable places where throbbing blood runs so close to the surface. Techno doesn’t consider, even for an instant, lashing out with his power. Because he doesn’t want to hurt anyone, and he doesn’t want to be hurt, and using his powers always hurts. And Phil is nice, Techno can’t hurt him…

“There’s nothing to worry about just yet,” Phil says after a second. “Techno’s heartbeat is strong, he’s breathing okay, he’s just having some trouble waking up.”

I’m awake! Techno tries to say, but he can’t. He can’t.

…he’s crying again.

-techno techno don’t cry it’s okay i’m here-

“Oh, Tech.” Hands cup his face, brushing away the tears. “It’s okay. C’mon, wake up, you can do it-”

He tries to open his eyes, he’s trying so hard, and he finally finally gets a sliver of vision. It’s blurry and the lights are dim but- but he did it, he did-

“There you are.” Phil’s voice is so warm. “Can you open your eyes a little more for me? Just a little more.”

Techno whines again, he’s trying but everything feels so heavy-

-wake up please need you wake up-

He makes an effort, and gets a little more sight back. It’s better than the dark, the lights are dim enough to not hurt, but he still can’t really see. Everything is so blurry.

…he is still crying…

“There you are, hi.” Phil sounds like he’s smiling. “Are you feeling okay, mate? No pain?”

“He’s crying,” Wilbur says, he sounds worried.

“It’s okay,” Phil murmurs, thumbs sweeping gently over Techno’s cheeks. “Anesthesia can have this effect on people. He’s gonna be just fine once the drugs are out of his system.”

Techno wants them gone fast, because he doesn’t like laying here, crying, unable to move. He doesn’t like being helpless and numb.

“Techno, can you tell me if anything hurts?”

…yeah, his head hurts, but he- he doesn’t know how to say that. He settles on trying to nod, managing a tiny, weak movement.

“Okay, mate, I’m gonna make that stop for you.”

Phil takes his hands away, puts them back after a second. A little while later the headache dulls, it doesn’t go away completely but it gets softer.

It feels better, but he doesn’t stop crying, he can’t and he doesn’t know why. Wilbur’s here, and they’re safe, and Techno doesn’t hurt anymore, so everything is- everything is okay. He shouldn’t be crying.

It’s getting harder and harder to keep opening his eyes every time he blinks, and almost before he knows it, everything is black again.

“Techno.”

Ugh, everything aches. He feels like he’s been lying in one place for a while, for way too long.

“Tech.”

Somebody’s tugging on his hand. Not very hard, and the hand is kind of cold. And thin, Techno can feel the person’s bones.

“Wake up, please?”

Techno sighs, turning his head towards the voice. “’m ‘wake,” he grumbles. “Shuddup.”

The hand squeezes, quick and hard. “Do you feel better now?”

…better than what?

Techno frowns, trying to remember… what he did. What happened. He’s… his head aches, and there’s a pain in the back of his neck, sharp and hot. His powers…. he can feel the insistent throb at the base of his skull, oh god he doesn’t want to have to use his powers again-

“Techno? Don’t cry again.” The voice goes high and stressed. “Please, Techno, I’m right here- look, look at me, it’s Wilbur-”

He blinks, the lights are kind of bright but he can see Wilbur, Wilbur’s right there, and he looks- he looks a little bit better, Techno thinks. Not so ashy, not so sunken. He’s there, and- and they’re out, that’s right, he doesn’t know why he keeps forgetting that.

“Wil,” he breathes, almost awed by it, by the feeling of having Wilbur’s hand in his.

“Hi.” Wilbur’s lying on his side, smiling, he’s holding Friend. His other hand is in Techno’s, their beds are pushed right up against each other. “You’re awake.”

“Huh?” Techno frowns slightly.

“You were asleep for a long time after the surgery.” Wilbur squeezes his hand again. “I was scared.”

“I’m okay,” Techno says, maybe a little stupidly.

He kind of remembers now, just flashes of Phil telling him what was going to happen and fuzzy jumbled memories of drifting in and out of sleep. He rolls over on his side to face Wilbur, it’s kind of hard and it hurts a little but he can see his twin better now.

“Better?” Wilbur asks again.

Techno nods slightly, squeezing his twin’s hand back. “I think so. Don’t remember much.”

“Oh.” Wilbur glances away for a few seconds. “They, um… they said you’d have your powers back.”

Techno flinches, he can still sense the blood- his, and Wilbur’s, and if he concentrates there’s more-

“I don’t wanna use them,” he breathes. “They- they hurt me.”

Wilbur squeezes his hand tighter and doesn’t let up his grip for several seconds. “I know,” he whispers. “You told me, I know. They- Phil said you wouldn’t have to.”

“I know. I know, I just- I k-” Techno’s voice catches. “Keep forgetting,” he breathes, closing his eyes. “That we’re not- there.”

Puffy says that’s to be expected. That they lived in the facility for seven years, of course it’ll be hard to adjust to a new place, to new routines. Or the lack of a routine. For so long, every minute of Techno’s life followed a strict schedule. He hardly knows how to exist without it.

He’s talked to Puffy about that, too. Puffy asks him to talk about a lot of things. Techno doesn’t, always. It’s hard.

“Yeah,” Wilbur breathes. “Yeah, me too.”

“I… I keep waking up and thinking I’m still there.”

His twin’s breathing picks up. “Especially now. With the…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, but Techno knows what he means. Wilbur still has the feeding tube in, and he still has an IV in his arm for fluids.

“It’s easier when you’re here,” Wilbur says abruptly, after a silence. “To… remember. To feel safe.”

Techno nods, closing his eyes. “Yeah. Me, too.”

~~~

“Remember, if you change your mind, you don’t have to do this,” Kristin says, handing Ranboo his mask.

“I know.” He takes the mask, fidgeting with it.

Phil grabs his own mask, slotting it into place under his hat. “Sam, are the files ready?” he calls.

Over by the computer, Sam gives a thumbs-up. “All set.”

Today is the day. The Big Day, when the Syndicate finally makes their public statement; finally releases the files sitting on their hard drives.

Phil doesn’t know that he believes anything is going to change. Certainly it’s not going to make a difference to the twins, who are among the worst affected by this, but very little will make a difference to them right now except the time and space to heal.

But as to the bigger question, of if the public will rally… Phil’s seen too much of the dark side of humanity to have much faith. Some people will be outraged, certainly, but will it be enough? Will they be able to make a difference?

He can only hope.

Sam moves away from the computer, triple-checking the camera and the monitors. Phil glances at his cue cards, sets them on the podium. Dream doesn’t have his mask on yet, and he’s visibly nervous.

“Hey.” Phil moves closer to the younger man, touching his arm gently. “Holding up all right?”

Dream doesn’t react beyond a slight shrug, a far cry from the scared, angry boy who first came to the Syndicate to beg for help. The kid who would strike back at unexpected contact, who left a lot of bruises on older team members until he learned that this place was safe.

“I’m okay,” Dream says after a second. “Just. This is all…” He gestures vaguely.

“I know.” Phil squeezes his arm gently. “You’ve got this.”

He doesn’t offer, like Kristin had to Ranboo, to let him change his mind. Because Phil knows that Dream’s mind is firmly made up to do this- to make his public statement and, hopefully, make progress towards finding closure.

But for now, they wait.

Slowly, the clock ticks towards noon. Phil watches Ranboo fidget with his mask, watches Dream standing silent and stone-faced, leaning against the wall.

In all the years the Syndicate has been trying to bring down the government’s facilities, they’ve only found three survivors- five, with the twins. That doesn’t mean there aren’t more, out there somewhere. They suspect most of the major heroes were once part of the program, though there’s no concrete evidence to support that.

But Dream and Ranboo, and now the twins, are the only people to actually get out. Well, and Dream’s sister, but she’s even worse off than the twins are. Techno and Wilbur are in no condition to talk about what they went through; Dream was eager to, and Ranboo nervous, but they’d both agreed to do it, to tell the public their stories.

“It’s time,” Kristin says at last.

Phil steps up to the podium. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous, but it’s a distant feeling. Unimportant, negligible.

He’s doing this for all those kids who didn’t survive the facilities. For Dream, Ranboo, and Techno, who fought their way through; for Aravis and for Wilbur, who almost didn’t make it. For Tommy, to prevent this from ever happening to him again.

Sam taps his keyboard. “We’re live in five, four, three-” He holds up two fingers, then one, then gives a thumbs-up.

“Citizens of Essempii,” Phil says. “My name is Corvus. You know me as one of the country’s top villains, as leader of the Syndicate. The government calls us terrorists and incendiaries. They claim that we have taken innocent lives, disrupted order, destroyed the peace of this country.” He pauses for effect. “That is a lie.”

He stares directly into the camera. “From the day the Syndicate was founded, our purpose has been to protect those who could not protect themselves. To dismantle the corrupt institutions whose only goal is to maintain power and instill fear.”

Phil flips to the next card, but he doesn’t even glance down. He knows his speech off by heart. “They created the ‘heroes’ who patrol this city. They make no secret of that fact. But we, the citizens of this country, never stopped to ask how. How did they earn their protectors’ loyalty?”

Another pause for effect. God, Phil hopes someone is watching. “The Syndicate has, since its creation, been collecting evidence that indicated the existence of well-hidden facilities. Places where the government collects promising mutant children to train and brainwash them to become future heroes.” He goes to the next sentence quickly. “I know how this sounds. I know most of you are trying to change the channel.” And failing, because they’re transmitting on every channel. On radios and streaming services, too- Sam is good.

A clacking sound catches his attention, and Phil glances over at Sam, typing furiously. “I know that right now, the government is attempting to shut down this broadcast,” Phil continues. “Because they are afraid of the truth. Because they do not want you to hear what we have to say.”

He straightens. “I am not here to make threats. I’m not here to cause terror and panic. The Syndicate is making a promise today, to protect the innocent. The children that the government has taken, and tortured, and murdered. If they do not stop- if they do not end their so-called ‘hero program’ and take down the indoctrination facilities, we will be forced to act.”

That’s Kristin’s cue, and images begin to play on the screen beside him. The foster care files, and photos of the bodies after the experiments that killed them. Video clips of those young children screaming and crying under the needles and the scalpels.

“These files are being released to the public as we speak,” Phil says, and Sam leans over, starting the upload. “Along with the location of the government facility the Syndicate removed them from.”

Phil drops his tone to ice. “These horrific abuses must be stopped. These acts are beyond inhumane. The government’s so-called ‘hero program’ is merely an excuse to conduct human experimentation, and the Syndicate will not stand for this any longer.”

After that, Phil steps down. Dream replaces him behind the makeshift podium, in costume, holding his full-face mask with its painted smile. Staring down the camera with his own face.

“You know me as the vigilante Nightmare,” he says. “My real name is Dream Exdee. Sixteen years ago, my parents were murdered. When the police came, they told me and my little sister that they would take us someplace safe.”

He pauses, looking down at the podium for a second. Phil gives him an encouraging nod, he knows how hard it is for Dream to talk about his sister.

Dream sets his shoulders, faces the camera again. “We were brought to a facility much like the one the Syndicate recently raided, where we were put through experiments meant to enhance our mutations. I survived. I endured the conditioning and the drugs and the tests. My sister-”

His voice catches, and he looks down at the podium again. It takes him a few seconds to get the words out.

“Aravis is alive, but the brain damage was irreparable. She will never walk again, or be capable of functioning independently.” Dream lifts his chin. “The government- the very institution that calls the Syndicate villains, names us terrorists- did this to her. When I escaped, taking my sister with me, the Syndicate took us in and took care of us. They provided everything we could need to heal. And when the time came, I joined them to make a difference in this world. To bring down the corrupt and the criminal, to stop the true terrorists.”

Ranboo follows. He, unlike Dream, is masked- though his is a half-facial mask, leaving his eyes visible under a fringe of hair.

“You know me as Lethe,” he says. His voice is quieter, but still easily picked up by the mic. “My name is Ranboo Beloved. My family was killed in a building collapse when I was four. I was raised in a government facility near Snowchester, where I experienced-” Ranboo pauses, checking his cue cards again. “Experienced intensive conditioning and experiments to enhance and strengthen my mutation.”

Ranboo still has night terrors. Flinches away from contact on bad days. Hell, the entire organization knows his trigger words so they can avoid saying them and setting off his conditioning.

“The Syndicate found me a week after I was first sent into the field. They gave me a safe place to heal from the decade of mental and physical trauma I was put through.” Ranboo pauses. Reaches up with shaking hands to remove his mask, staring directly at the camera. “Please, listen. Please help us stop this from happening to anyone else. Help us protect the kids who can’t protect themselves.”

The words stop spilling, and he ducks his head and hurries away from the podium. Phil takes his place.

“A month ago, we raided a government facility near Manberg. We rescued three survivors of the program. The files we have just shown you are for the dozens of children who did not.” Phil pauses. “One of these boys, just thirteen years old, had been there nearly a week. He was lucky to come out alive and without permanent injury.”

Phil barely manages not to cringe when he says it. The things Tommy went through, and he was lucky?- but he knows it’s true. Things could have been so much worse.

“The other two were born ordinary humans, and were held in that facility for seven years. One was so weak that he nearly died of pneumonia within a week of coming here. His brother had been put through genetic experimentation, altering his DNA and turning him into a mutant.” He pauses. “Their files have not been released with the rest. I’m sure that comes as a relief to some government scumbags watching. This is a decision we made not out of a desire to withhold information, but rather to protect two vulnerable, traumatized teenagers.”

Sam’s typing again. Phil barely spares him a glance; they’re almost done. Everything has gone off smoothly- he prays, god he hopes it hasn’t gone wrong.

“Everything the Syndicate has done, we’ve done to protect the innocent. That is the promise I, and all of us, are making to you today, right now. We’re not perfect, but we will do everything within our power to bring down the people responsible for hurting so many innocents.” Phil hopes the camera is picking up the earnestness in his voice. “And to those who are watching, the ones responsible for causing so much pain, know this.”

He catches Dream’s flinty gaze, sees Ranboo’s little nod.

“We are coming for you. And we will not stop until there is an end to the experiments and the torture and the lies. You think you know exactly how scared of us you should be?” Phil smiles, sharp and dangerous. “Think again. We will find you, and we will do what it takes to stop you.”

Chapter Text

Phil is indescribably relieved that they kept the twins out of this.

No one has left the Syndicate base in the two days that have passed since the broadcast. In those two days, things outside have gotten…

Yeah, Phil doesn’t know how to describe it.

The Syndicate is all the news talks about now, seemingly. News outlets almost certainly controlled by the government, given the tendency of the bulletins to talk about “the mutant threat” and “villains coming for us” and melodramatic bullshit like that.

Tubbo and Tommy tell him there are a lot of YouTube videos appearing- and a lot of YouTube videos vanishing hours or even minutes later, and a lot more being made. Sam and Tubbo are downloading what articles and videos and blog posts they can and reuploading them, because even if it isn’t all positive, people are talking. People, ordinary people, are questioning the government. And a lot of them are sympathizing with the Syndicate.

Family members and social workers and former foster parents keep coming forward. Making statements, saying that was my foster daughter’s file or I saw my cousin’s face on TV and is it true that boy is dead?

It’s painful to watch, painful to hear, but Phil watches Kristin take each message and respond personally, with the grace and tact she brings to everything she touches. She gives answers to distraught loved ones, reassures the angry that justice will be done, advises the avenging spirits to exercise caution.

And Phil takes care of the twins.

Techno is still… off, after the surgery. Phil was concerned, at first, that the drugs were taking too long to clear his system, but Niki’s pretty sure it’s not that. Puffy hasn’t gotten close enough to make a clear judgment, but from what she has been able to pick up of Techno’s emotions, she says he’s stressed.

Which makes sense.

They put him through a surgery- necessary, and unavoidable, but undoubtedly traumatic all the same. Besides which Techno can now use his powers, and he told Phil how much he hated them, how much they hurt.

So yeah, Phil can understand why he’s stressed.

Eret keeps insisting that Techno’s mutation needs to be tested and recorded, that the Syndicate needs to keep track of everyone in their base. Phil’s been the one pushing back against that the hardest. The last thing Techno needs right now is to be asked to use abilities he didn’t want in the first place.

Wilbur is recovering. Still slowly, but better now that the pneumonia has cleared. Niki is passing primary care off to Sapnap, who is the closest thing to a physical therapist they have here.

Niki says the twins can leave the med bay now. Which is going to be a whole thing that Phil isn’t really looking forward to dealing with.

~~~

Techno is having a bad day, he thinks.

He doesn’t… he doesn’t know why it’s so hard to- to just be. He stares at his hands like they’ll have miraculously stopped shaking. They haven’t, he hasn’t been able to be still all day and he doesn’t…

He’s so scared.

Wilbur hasn’t said anything about it, though he must know. When he woke up and saw Techno crumpled up in the corner, he didn’t even look surprised or upset. He just stumbled over and draped himself against Techno’s side.

They’re still sitting like that when there’s a knock on the glass and the door starts to open. Techno shudders violently, he can’t he can’t-

Wilbur shifts, he’s still weak but he still moves to sit in front of Techno so he doesn’t have to see whoever is out there.

“Hey, how are you doing?” Phil asks, gentle.

Techno flinches, hiding his face in Wilbur’s shoulder. He doesn’t- he can’t. They’re gonna ask him to use his powers and he can’t, he can’t, not unless they threaten Wilbur and he doesn’t think- he can’t imagine Phil ever would- and they’ll be angry, so angry-

“Doing okay, Techno?”

“Leave him alone.” Wilbur’s voice is shaky, and he presses a little closer.

Feathers rustle. “I’m not gonna hurt him, Wilbur,” Phil says gently. “I would never do that.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not lying, I wouldn’t lie to you.” Phil pauses. “You both need to have something to eat.”

Techno doesn’t think he’s hungry. He huddles closer to Wilbur and wishes he didn’t look so vulnerable.

“Can- can we be by ourselves?”

“Of course. I’ll bring you both some food, and water, and you can sit in here and eat.”

“Me, too?”

“Yeah, mate, of course.”

Wilbur’s voice is kind of shaky when he says, “But I still have the tube.”

Phil hums. Techno’s fingers curl in Wilbur’s shirt, he doesn’t think it’s a bad sound but he- he doesn’t know-

“We think it’ll be better to wait to take it out until you’re a little stronger,” Phil says after a second. “So we can make sure you keep getting all the nutrients you need. If it’s uncomfortable-”

“It’s not.” Wilbur shudders, probably only noticeable because Techno’s pressed so close to him. “Just- I just- I don’t like it.”

“I know, I’m sorry, mate. We’ll take it out as soon as we can, but right now it’s better this way.”

Another tiny shudder goes through Wilbur’s body. “’kay,” he whispers. “You- you wouldn’t hurt us.”

“That’s right, Wilbur.” Phil pauses. “Techno, is there anything you’d like?”

Visceral fear grips him at being addressed, and Techno tries to press further back into the corner. He shouldn’t he knows he shouldn’t, he’s being so bad, he’s acting like a little kid and he’s stronger than this, he’s better than this-

But he’s scared. He’s so, so scared, and it’s all he can think about, it’s all he can feel.

“Don’t-” Wilbur’s voice catches, scrapes. “Don’t talk to him, leave him alone-”

“Okay, Wilbur, I won’t,” Phil says gently. “But I’d like to know if there’s any food in particular Techno wants, do you think you could ask him?”

Wilbur reaches around behind him to hold Techno’s hand, sending -hungry do you want?- and Techno shakes his head slightly. He doesn’t… it’s hard to remember what anything tastes like.

“He says no,” Wilbur says, squeezing Techno’s wrist again.

“Alright. I’ll come back in a couple of minutes.”

The door opens and closes again, and Techno tries not to shudder. He’s a little less scared, now that it’s just him and Wilbur, and he can tell it’s just them because he can still feel the blood, blood, blood thrumming in veins and bodies. He hates it he hates it he doesn’t want his powers-

-it’s okay it’s okay techno breathe-

He whines, pressing his head a little harder against Wilbur’s back. His twin hums, low and quiet.

“Can you talk?” Wilbur whispers.

Just the thought makes the terror redouble, he can’t- he can’t. He’s not allowed, it’s not allowed, he shouldn’t make any noise at all but Wilbur is the only person to hear.

“…okay,” Wilbur says after a minute. “That’s okay, Tech, I’m here. I’ll be here.”

He doesn’t know why he’s so scared, why it’s so hard to breathe, but Wilbur’s here. Wilbur is here, even though Techno has his powers, even though Techno can feel people’s blood again.

He’s starting to get used to the rhythm of Wilbur’s pulse, the weak but consistent hum of his twin’s blood through his veins. It’s… comforting, he thinks. Reassuring might be a better word. Familiar.

It doesn’t make Techno hate his powers any less.

Phil comes back, at least Techno thinks it’s him. He can’t see with his face hidden in the soft fabric of Wilbur’s shirt.

This is not behaving. Techno is supposed to pay attention, so he can be ready if orders are given, but he can’t. He can’t lift his head, everything is all so much and he doesn’t have the strength to face it right now.

“Okay, Wilbur, I brought yogurt for both of you. The yellow bowl is yours, we put some extra vitamins in it to help you stay healthy. And the red bowl is Techno’s, it has granola in it, but it’s harder to chew so we’re not sure if you’ll be able to manage it just yet. Okay?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Can I come over and hand it to you?”

“No,” Wilbur says, and Techno flinches, whimpers- that’s bad Wilbur shouldn’t say that-

“Okay.”

Something slides across the floor, and Techno flinches at the unexpected and unfamiliar sound. Wilbur’s hand brushes against his knee, -it’s okay i’m here techno don’t be scared- and he tries to make himself stop shaking so hard.

There’s a brief silence. “Wilbur, is it okay if I talk to Techno for a second?” Phil asks quietly.

“No.” Wilbur scoots back slightly, pressing closer to Techno. “Leave him alone.”

Phil sighs, and Techno can’t help the way his hand comes up to cover his head, that’s not a good sound-

“Okay,” Phil says. “I’ll give the two of you some space. If you need anything, all you have to do is call, or knock on the glass, okay?”

Wilbur mm-hms again. After a minute the glass door slides closed again.

Techno can’t move, but Wilbur does, scooting around to face him. Even then Techno can’t make his fingers uncurl from his twin’s shirt.

Wilbur tilts his head. “Are you scared?” he asks, really quiet and low.

Techno shudders. Drops his head, giving a little nod.

“Oh.” Wilbur leans away, sliding two bowls closer- that’s the weird sound from before, Techno realizes. “You don’t have to be. You know that right?”

He… he thinks he should, but it’s all. It’s so much.

“Here, here, eat.” Wilbur pushes a red bowl into Techno’s lap. “Please? For me, Tech?”

And it’s hard, everything is so hard and Techno doesn’t want to move, but Wilbur asked him to.

He picks up the spoon- it’s heavy, why does it seem so heavy- and takes a small bite of the yogurt. It’s blueberry today, a kind that Techno likes- Phil must know he likes it, too, which is funny because Techno didn’t think Phil paid attention to things like that.

Wilbur eats a spoonful at the same time. He doesn’t take another bite until Techno does. And- and Wilbur has to eat, he has to, so Techno eats all the yogurt in his bowl even though it makes him feel sick and it takes so much work to keep lifting the spoon. So that Wilbur eats, too.

“Why are you scared?”

Techno doesn’t know how to answer that, he doesn’t even know why. It’s just all too much for some reason and he can’t… he doesn’t know.

“Talk to me, Tech, please?”

He shudders, curling in on himself. “S… sorry,” he whispers.

“I don’t want you to be scared,” Wilbur says, more of a soft whimper. “There’s nothing here to be scared of, Tech, it’s okay-”

“I know.” Techno curls up tighter, so his knees are right up under his chin and his hands are clasped over his head and he’s pressed together in a tight little ball in the corner. “M’sorry, I know-”

“No- no, it’s okay-” Wilbur’s voice is getting high and stressed again and- and that’s Techno’s fault, he should do something to help but he can’t, he doesn’t know how. He can’t right now even if he did know. “Techno, it’s okay-”

He can’t help it, he’s not expecting when Wilbur touches him and he whimpers, trying to press even more into the corner but there’s nowhere else to go.

“Techno?” Wilbur’s voice squeaks. “It’s okay- it’s just me, don’t be scared-”

He touches Techno’s arm again and Techno lets out another high-pitched whimper. Wilbur doesn’t touch him again, and after a second there’s a hollow thudding sound like knocking.

When the door slides open again, Techno catches a whine before it comes out of his throat.

“Phil, I don’t know what to do, help-” Wilbur says, sounding desperate.

“Okay, mate, take a breath.” Phil’s feathers rustle. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Techno, he’s scared, I don’t know what to do, can you help him?”

“Alright. I’m gonna get Puffy to come and help him, let’s give him some space, okay?”

“No, I wanna stay with him-”

Techno doesn’t- he doesn’t want Wilbur to leave but he can’t stand to have his twin touch him and he doesn’t know what- what to do-

He kind of loses track of things for a minute because the next thing he knows, a different voice is talking to him.

“-y to breathe, Techno. I know you’re scared, but I need you to breathe for me, okay?”

That’s- that’s a voice he knows. Puffy, he thinks? He’s not- he doesn’t think he’s scared of Puffy. She’s nice.

So Techno tries to breathe, it hurts but he tries, because Puffy asked him to. All of him hurts, he’s still curled up too tight, but he doesn’t know how to stop.

“Good, you’re doing good,” Puffy murmurs. “Keep breathing.”

He whimpers. He’s scared, he’s so scared and he can’t- he can’t- he can’t-

“It’s okay to be scared.” Puffy’s voice is gentle, warm. “It’s okay if you don’t believe me, but you’re safe here.”

Techno knows that, he does, but it’s- it’s-

He doesn’t feel safe.

And he doesn’t know why, because he knows he is. They haven’t hurt him, or Wilbur- they took care of Wilbur when he was sick, and they helped Techno when the chip was making him sick, and they haven’t asked him to use his powers, just because Techno said he didn’t want to-

But he doesn’t feel safe.

“S-” It’s so hard to speak, it’s so hard, but he has to, because they keep asking him to. “Sor-ry-”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Puffy says, even and calming.

“I d-” His voice comes out small and pitiful, and he chokes on a whimper. “D’nno why ‘m- why I c- can’t-”

“You’ve been through a lot. It’s normal for you to have a lot of emotions to deal with.”

“Don’ wanna be scared.”

“I know, it’s not a nice feeling. I wish I could take it away.”

~~~

As much as Phil wants to just put his hand on Techno’s arm and wipe away his fear, he knows that’s not a good solution.

Short-term, it would work. It’s the long term he has to think about, and Puffy has been insistent that they need to help the twins deal with their feelings, teach them to work through things in a healthy way. They’re still teenagers, and they’re not normal teenagers- in terms of maturity, they seem a fair bit younger than seventeen.

Right now, though, he can help Wilbur. That at least is possible, if not easy.

“Why can’t I stay with him?”

Phil does not sigh. He wants to, but he isn’t going to, because he saw the way the twins reacted when he did earlier. He wonders if it’s something from the lab, or- more likely- a foster kid thing.

“Techno might have an easier time talking to Puffy if they’re by themselves,” he explains, not minding the tone. Tommy is like this sometimes, petulant and whiny- Phil supposes all teenagers are, from time to time. “But we’re gonna stay right here, we won’t go too far.”

Wilbur hunches his shoulders, pouting. “Why can’t I at least see him?”

Phil had turned the walls opaque before leaving the room. “It’s to give Techno a little more privacy,” he says. “He’s gonna be okay, and we won’t leave.”

The teen looks away, biting his lip. “He- he’s so scared.”

“I know.” Dream and Ranboo had more than their fair share of bad days- panic attacks, shutdowns, Phil’s seen just about every trauma response he could’ve expected and Techno’s are no different, apparently. “Both of you went through a lot of really scary stuff, this is kind of normal, actually.”

“Oh. It… it is?”

“Yeah, mate. I know it’s not fun to watch, and it isn’t fun for Techno either, but he really is gonna be okay. Puffy’s good at that, helping people. It’s part of her job.”

Wilbur curls up in the chair Phil pulled in for him, he’s shivering and Phil goes to get a blanket to drape around his shoulders. Wilbur huddles into it with a sniffle.

“I’m scared too,” he says, and Phil wishes all teenagers were this plain and open with their feelings. “Techno wouldn’t talk to me and I- I want him to be okay and I can’t help him.”

“Aw, mate. I know how hard it can be, not knowing how to help someone.” He clasps his hands in his lap. “That’s when we find another person who can.”

“Like Puffy?”

“Like Puffy.” Phil nods. “She’s gonna try to help Techno figure out how to deal with his feelings. When he’s feeling a little better, then you can be with him again.”

“Okay.” Wilbur wraps the blanket a little tighter around himself. “Can- can I maybe have a book to read?”

“Of course, mate.”

Phil doesn’t talk to the twins much more that day.

It’s hard to want to, when he watches them break down sobbing in each others’ arms once Techno’s finally been dragged out of his primal terror. So instead, he waits till the next day to tell them.

“Niki says you don’t have to stick around here anymore,” he says, the next morning. “How would you feel about getting out of the medbay?”

Wilbur perks up, even as weak as he is. “We can go back to our room?”

“Yeah,” Phil says. “If you’d like that.”

He watches Techno carefully, because it’s Techno who’s been consistently nervous of change. He looks nervous now, and he’s hiding behind Wilbur, which isn’t usual.

“Yeah,” Wilbur says. “Please, can we?”

“Of course.” Phil shifts. “Techno? Is that all right with you?”

He ducks his head against Wilbur’s shoulder. “Yeah,” he says, so quietly it’s hard to hear him. “I- yes.”

“It’s okay to be anxious,” Phil murmurs. “We’re just gonna go back to the same room you were staying in before. You can take all your stuff with you, and you’ll still have the books and games we gave you.”

Wilbur pulls gently at Techno’s arm, and he finally moves. They follow Phil through the halls- not a maze by any means, but confusing if you don’t know the place- to the bedroom they were in before.

It’s meant to be a standard recovery room, but luckily they put the twins in one big enough that they were able to convert it to something more livable. They’ve added a second bed- though Phil doubts they’ll use it- and a bookshelf, a small couch, and a beanbag.

“I’ll bring you lunch later,” Phil says. “You can leave the room if you’d like, feel free to wander. If you need help, all you have to do is ask someone. Everyone will be glad to help.”

“Can we go outside again?” Wilbur asks, expression almost hungry.

“Yeah, if you want. I’ll have Tommy show you the way.” He’d take them himself, but as much as he’d like to stay with the twins, Phil has other responsibilities today. He pulls out his phone and sends a quick text to his son. “I’ll see you in a couple hours, okay?”

“’kay!” Wilbur chirps. Techno flinches, clinging to his twin.

Phil wants to stay, to try and help them relax, but he suspects his presence won’t do much good right now. And besides, he needs to check in on his other ‘problem kids’ (affectionately nicknamed so by Kristin).

Ranboo’s been staying off the internet, thank god. The teen already struggles to deal with his anxiety, and he doesn’t need the added stress of the things people on the internet are saying about him.

Dream, on the other hand…

Phil finds the young man in his sister’s room. Aravis is sleeping, and he’s sitting there with his hands clasped in his lap, just gazing at her.

Phil lets himself in quietly. Dream barely glances up, acknowledging him with a low hum.

“How’re you doing?” Phil murmurs.

Dream shrugs silently. He’s utterly expressionless, something Phil had been glad to see him abandon as he adjusted to life outside the facility.

Then again, he’s got a good reason for reverting to that stress response now.

Phil’s seen the things people are saying about Dream and his sister. The pity from some, the outright disbelief from many others. The vitriol being spewed about Nightmare, Dream’s public persona.

Phil is one of only two people- the other being Kristin- to have read the email from the siblings’ last living relative, an aging aunt who doesn’t want to acknowledge her ‘villainous’ nephew or care for her invalid niece. Dream doesn’t know that Phil reached out to her. He won’t know, if Phil has anything to say about it.

“She okay?” Phil asks, nudging another chair over and sinking down beside him.

Dream shrugs again. “The same,” he says, a quiet rasp. “Um- we did a jigsaw puzzle earlier.”

“That’s good.”

Dream’s silent for a few minutes, gaze fixed on some point in the distance. “You see the latest blog posts?” he says at last, flat and quiet.

“Not all of them,” Phil hedges. He’s pretty sure he knows what Dream’s referring to-

“The ones insinuating that I… that I did this to her.”

Phil exhales quietly. “Yeah, mate.”

“I don’t- I just don’t get it. Why does humanity suck?”

Not all of us, Phil wants to remind him, but doesn’t.

“I thought I- I’d seen all the worst of it, back in that goddamn facility. I thought, when you took us in, I thought- things would be better. People would be better. I guess…” He pauses, huffing. “I guess, I thought things couldn’t actually be bad. I thought everybody was gonna be like all of you.”

Phil places one hand on his shoulder.

“People like that aren’t worth protecting.” Dream makes a sharp, savage movement. “This society doesn’t deserve to be saved-”

They’re not all bad, Phil should say. Give them a chance.

“Not everyone believes that,” Phil murmurs. “It’s a few stupid people on the internet. People like that will do anything for attention.”

“They think I hurt my sister-”

“You know the truth. We know it. That has to be what matters right now.”

Dream shrugs off his hand. “I want to be alone,” he mutters.

“Okay.” Phil inhales slowly, lets his breath out just as steadily. “You know how to find me if you’d like to talk.”

~~~

Techno can’t stop feeling it all.

The blood pumping, all of it, every time someone comes close. He notices now every time someone walks past their door, and every time it makes him flinch and cower back into the corner.

He’s so scared and he doesn’t want to be.

There’s more furniture in their room now. Techno didn’t like that at first, but then he figured out that he could pull the couch over to the corner and make a place to sit behind it where no one can see him when they walk in.

He curls up back there with Carl in his hands and tries to calm down. Wilbur starts reading out loud, and it makes Techno breathe a little easier, except that he can still feel when people walk past their room. So he notices when someone stops, just before the door opens.

Techno clutches Carl to his chest, curling up tighter. “Hey,” Phil says quietly. “How’re you doing, Wilbur?”

Wilbur hums, raspy. He’s been reading for a long time.

Phil’s feathers rustle. “Where’s Techno?”

He flinches, but he has to answer, he doesn’t think Phil will leave without knowing where he is. “’m here,” he chokes out.

Phil’s tone softens. “You doin’ okay?”

Techno shudders, he doesn’t- he can’t. He shouldn’t be scared of Phil but- but he is.

“Okay,” Phil says after a minute. “I’ve got lunch for you. Wilbur, can you pass Techno’s plate back to him?”

Wilbur must shake his head, or something, because after a second Phil’s footsteps come closer, and his hand nudges the plate around the end of the couch. He doesn’t move any closer, and Techno doesn’t see him, but he still cringes away anyway.

“Here you go, Wilbur. Niki’s gonna be by later to give you your medicine through the feeding tube, okay?”

“Oh.” Wilbur’s voice sounds small. “Okay…”

“I would’ve put it in your food, but it’s harder with a sandwich. If you have trouble chewing that, let me know, okay?”

After a minute, Wilbur hums.

“Good.” Phil exhales quietly. “We’ve got this set up for you so if you need anything, you can just hold down this button on the wall and talk into the speaker. Kristin and I will hear you, and one of us will come help.”

“M’kay.”

The door clicks open. “I’ll be back to check on you later,” Phil says quietly.

And then he leaves.

Techno gradually relaxes as Phil gets farther away, until he can’t feel the man’s blood anymore. Only then does he uncurl, picking up the plate and taking a bite of his sandwich.

Wilbur’s head appears over the back of the couch. “Tech?” he whispers.

Techno doesn’t flinch, because it’s Wilbur. Even though he still feels jumpy and vaguely scared. “Yeah?”

“’re you okay?”

He takes another bite of his sandwich, so he can think about what to say. He settles on just shrugging.

“Is it better back there?”

“Mhm.” Techno uncurls a little more. “Smaller.”

Wilbur looks worried, but he kind of smiles a little, too. Like he’s thinking about the same thing Techno is, the days when Techno would have to curl up in a closet or under a bed after a bad day at school, because being in a smaller place always made him feel better.

“You should eat,” Techno croaks, after Wilbur’s been staring at him for a minute.

“You too.”

Techno pokes at the sandwich, his stomach won’t stop churning. Those couple of bites feel like rocks inside him. “M’not hungry,” he mumbles.

“Please?” Wilbur’s eyes are round and wet and pleading, and Techno… can’t really say no, can he? “For me, Tech?”

His hands feel leaden, but he lifts the sandwich and takes another bite. Manages to swallow, gritting his teeth against the nausea. Apparently satisfied, Wilbur disappears.

It’s so quiet.

Techno chokes down half of the sandwich before he can’t take it anymore. He pushes the rest away, curling up in the corner on the beanbag- but more loosely this time, pulling a blanket up to his shoulders.

He’s half-asleep when someone else comes in, but he’s too worn out to react beyond a twitch. He can still hear everything, though. Just conscious enough to be aware, not enough to react.

“Hey, Wilbur, are you doing okay?”

Weird. People keep asking them that.

“I guess,” Wilbur mutters.

“I’m sorry, I know this isn’t fun.” Oh, that’s Niki. “But it’s really important for you to get all the nutrition you need, so you keep getting stronger.”

“I know.”

A pause. The way Techno is drifting, it feels like hours.

“May I lift your shirt, Wilbur?” Niki asks.

“Why- why do you always ask?” Wilbur sounds confused. Techno is, too, distantly. “You could just do it.”

Niki hums. The couch creaks. “Well,” she says after a second, “it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to do that without permission. To anyone, not just you.”

“Oh.” Wilbur pauses. “So, if I said no…”

“Then I wouldn’t do it. It’s important for me to take care of you, but it’s also important for me to respect the boundaries you set.”

“Oh.”

After what feels like another really, really long time, someone shifts. “Wilbur? Is it okay for me to lift your shirt so I can give you your medication?”

“Okay.”

Techno tries to stay awake, he does, because Wilbur is safer when Techno is there, but he’s just so tired.

It’s dark when he wakes up.

For a minute Techno is sure he’s in the group home again, because it’s dark and he and Wilbur are curled up on the floor. They always sleep under the bed when they’re in the group home. The grown-ups don’t like it, but it’s safer. Smaller.

And then he remembers, because of course he does. Because Wilbur’s pulse is thrumming, constant and familiar, almost in time with Techno’s heartbeat where he’s curled up against Techno’s chest. Because his bones ache and there’s a vague pain at the base of his skull and Carl is too small in his hand.

Wilbur nudges his head into the hollow of Techno’s shoulder, yawning. -awake hi better now?- he asks, in Techno’s head.

He always feels safer, with Wilbur. “Mm.” Techno yawns himself, curling his arm more tightly around Wilbur. “How d’you do that?” he mumbles.

“Do what?”

“Talk to me. In my head.”

Wilbur shrugs, curling up a little more so his legs tangle with Techno’s. “I don’t really think about doing it. Just it kind of. Happens.”

“Yeah, but it’s-” Techno’s voice sticks in his throat. “It’s a power,” he whispers, unable to keep from trembling. “Right?”

“…I mean, it must be, right?”

Techno holds his twin tighter. “You can’t tell them,” he breathes. “It- it isn’t safe-”

“But Phil’s nice.” Wilbur pulls his head back to meet Techno’s gaze. He looks confused. “He wouldn’t hurt us.”

“He’s a grown-up.”

“So are we, almost. And Phil is good, isn’t he?”

Techno… can’t really argue against that, actually. “Don’t tell him,” he begs. “It’s not- Wil, it’s not safe, they’ll want to- to do things to you-”

“Techno- Tech, we are safe. They’re not like the people from there. Phil takes care of us, you know that, why can’t you-”

“I know, I know, I-” Techno’s breath hitches. “I can’t- it’s scary.”

Wilbur curls in tighter. “It’s safe,” he says. “It- it is safe here, Techno. You kept telling me that.” He pauses, fingers tracing a line up and down Techno’s arm. “Why don’t you believe it any more?”

Techno feels like he’s going to cry, and there’s no reason not to, really. “I don’t know,” he whimpers.

Wilbur crawls out of the corner when Phil comes in to bring them dinner; Techno stays, not crying anymore but shaking uncontrollably, curled up under his blanket.

“Hey, mate, still okay?” Phil sounds cheerful.

“Yeah.” Wilbur pauses. “Phil,” he says, “what would you do if I had a power?”

No! Techno wants to scream, but he can’t. He can’t. He’s so scared and he can’t do anything to protect Wilbur.

Phil hums. “Well, I’d want to make sure you know how to control it, and that it’s not hurting you.”

“And that’s all?” -it’s okay techno it’s safe-

“Yeah, Wilbur, that’s all.”

There’s a long silence. Techno wishes he could talk to Wilbur, too, to tell his twin how scared he is right now. He curls up tighter, he can’t stop shaking.

“I can tell Techno things.” Wilbur’s voice shakes. “In our heads.”

Phil hums. After a minute he says, “Thank you for telling me.”

“Nothing bad is gonna happen?”

“Of course not,” Phil says, quiet and firm. “You’re safe here, Wilbur. You’re both safe here.”

-told you safe okay we’re safe-

Techno whimpers, hiding his face in the beanbag. Phil croons, feathers rustling.

“Aw, Techno. It’s okay,” he says, just a little bit louder.

“I think he’s still scared,” Wilbur says, quiet.

He is. He really is, and he doesn’t know why.

“That’s okay. Techno, mate, you can be scared as long as you need to be, okay? I’ll still be here to take care of you and keep you safe, no matter what.”

He doesn’t want to be scared, but if Phil says it’s okay, then it’s okay.

Techno huddles under his blanket, shaking, and holds Carl under his chin. Wilbur’s still here, and Techno has his powers but he doesn’t have to use them, and he can hide in this corner and be scared as long as it takes him to stop.

Chapter Text

Techno assumes they put a second bed in here so he and Wilbur could each have one.

Techno also thinks it would just about kill him if he had to spend one night with his twin in the same room, but not in his arms.

They always slept tangled together like this, except in the two or three homes where foster parents forced them apart. It feels good, it feels right to have Wilbur right here with him, their hearts beating together.

But still, he can’t fall asleep.

Techno breathes slow and steady and even, listening to Wilbur’s raspy breaths. His twin is still, in sleep, his expression peaceful in the near-blackness. Techno doesn’t really mind not being asleep, because he gets to look at Wilbur and after all this time, apart, this is all he wants, really.

Hours crawl by. It’s so quiet… Techno never realized until now, now that he’s thinking about it, that the facility wasn’t. There was always the hum of fluorescent lights and the ventilation system, there were always people walking around. And right now all he can hear is Wilbur breathing, and him breathing, and… it’s nice. Relaxing.

At least, it is until Wilbur shudders, a soft scared whine shattering the quiet. Techno nudges his head against Wilbur’s, hoping that will make him feel better, but Wilbur keeps shaking, little scared sounds turning into just plain crying.

“Wil,” Techno breathes, shaking him gently. “Wake up, it’s okay, I’m here-”

Wilbur flinches, gasps, going stiff all of a sudden. Techno hugs him tighter.

“It’s okay,” he says, his chest hurts, he doesn’t like that Wilbur is scared. “Wil, it’s me, I’m here-”

“Te- Te-” Wilbur hiccups, sobs. “Tech-”

“I’m here. I’m right here.” He presses his head against Wilbur’s. This is something he remembers, from when they were little- Wilbur had nightmares a lot. Techno never did, he doesn’t ever remember his dreams, but he knows how to make Wilbur feel better. “It’s okay, Wil, it’s okay-”

“I d-dreamed I lo- ost you,” Wilbur hiccups. “They t- took you away again-”

“That won’t happen.” Techno doesn’t mean his voice to come out hard and angry, but Wilbur doesn’t flinch. “I won’t let it.”

“Please.” Wilbur claws at his shirt, and it hurts, but Techno holds him tighter. “Please I need you-”

“I’m here. I won’t let go, I won’t let go, I’m here-”

Wilbur hiccups and sobs and shakes, and Techno hugs him as tight as he can. Just holds him until Wilbur goes quiet and limp, sniffling into Techno’s shirt.

“I was so scared,” he whimpers. “Tech, I ca- can’t- I can’t lose you again.”

“You won’t. I won’t let go of you, not ever if that’s what it takes-”

“Please…” Wilbur’s breath hitches, but he doesn’t start crying again. He doesn’t move, either. “I can’t be alone again, please, I was alone for so long-”

Techno’s chest aches. “I’m here now,” he whispers. “I’m here, I’ll be here.”

“Were-” Wilbur hiccups again. “Were you lonely? In there?”

Techno flinches, curls one hand around the back of his twin’s neck. “I- I didn’t…”

Wilbur waits, butting his head up against Techno’s gently. Techno breathes slowly, deeply, trying to figure out how to say it.

“Didn’t feel much of anything after a while,” he breathes. “It was- they didn’t like me to. Don’t need to feel to- to be a good soldier.”

“Tech.”

“Was- it was easier, too. To just.” His chest hurts. “Not. Not feel anything.”

Wilbur makes a funny strangled sound, curling in tighter. -sad sad that’s awful-

“It’s-” Techno feels like he might cry. “It’s okay now,” he tries to say. “I-”

“It’s not.” He curls his fingers tighter in Techno’s shirt. “It’s really, really not, Techno.”

“D- don’t cry,” he chokes out. They can’t both be crying at the same time. “Wil-”

Wilbur knocks his head against Techno’s again with a little wet chuckle. “’m not.”

“I h- had to be good. So they wouldn’t hu-urt you.”

“I know. I know.”

“S- ‘m sorry- ‘m always cr-rying-”

Wilbur’s quiet for a few minutes. Techno tries to stop his hitching sobs, he was okay he was feeling peaceful in the quiet and now- and now-

“You should talk to Puffy,” Wilbur breathes, soft and quiet. “Like- like Phil said.”

“Wh- what?”

“Cause I- I don’t know how to make it better. And Phil said that’s when you find someone who does, and Puffy knows how to help cause that’s her job.”

Techno hiccups, rubbing the heel of his hand over his eyes. He doesn’t… he doesn’t know what he thinks about that. Because Puffy’s nice, but she’s always making him talk about things and it’s not… Techno doesn’t really like talking about what he feels.

All he really knows, for sure, is that he doesn’t want to be scared anymore. He wants to feel okay. He wants- he wants to know what that would feel like.

~~~

It’s been a fairly quiet day, so far.

Quiet being a relative term, of course. It’s never exactly that, not for the Syndicate. But there’s been relative peace hanging over the base.

Phil glanced in on the twins when he woke up, heart melting at the sight of them curled up together in the same bed, wrapped around each other. When he brought breakfast, Techno looked exhausted, but didn’t flinch or hide. Which Phil would tentatively say is good. On the one hand, Techno’s been so scared lately, and he spent all of yesterday afternoon behind the couch, where Phil couldn’t see him. On the other hand, Phil doesn’t want a return to that silent emotionless stillness.

As it turns out, that is far from the case.

It’s midafternoon when the thick clouds that have been looming all day open up. Phil grins when Tommy and Kristin exchange a look and run out of their living room together, giggling. Making for the yard, no doubt, they love to play in the rain. Phil doesn’t- he hates getting his wings wet- but he follows anyway, to at least sit in the door and watch them.

He should probably check on the twins first.

Phil finds them curled up in the corner- at least, he assumes they’re both back there, he can only see Wilbur’s foot poking out from behind the couch.

“Hey,” Phil says softly. “What’s goin’ on?”

“It’s loud,” Wilbur says, voice shaking.

Loud- oh, the rain, Phil realizes. The twins’ room is in the part of the base that’s only a single storey, and while the rain that’s coming down in buckets doesn’t seem loud to Phil, he doesn’t doubt it is to them. Especially after years of quiet.

He sits down on the floor with a soft grunt, flattening his wings behind him. “It’s raining,” he says. “That’s what that noise is.”

“It’s raining?” Wilbur gasps, poking his head out from behind the couch. He looks excited. “Really? Can we go outside?”

Phil laughs, bemused. “Yeah, really. And no, Wilbur, you just got over pneumonia, you’ll get sick again if you go out and get wet and cold.”

Techno makes a sound, small and- scared, Phil guesses, and Wilbur’s pout quickly changes to worry as he retreats behind the couch again.

“Tech? Don’t be scared, it’s okay, it’s just raining.”

Phil clasps his hands in his lap, waiting while Techno says something too quietly for him to hear and Wilbur answers just as quietly. After a couple brief exchanges, Wilbur leans back out.

“Can you help?” he asks, voice small.

“What’s wrong?” Phil murmurs.

“Techno’s scared of the storm and I don’t know how to make him feel better.”

Phil inhales slowly. “I can try, but is Techno okay with that?”

Wilbur leans in again. After a minute Techno’s voice rises, shaking. “S’okay…”

“Can I come in there with you, or would you rather come out to me?”

Wilbur crawls out of the little hidey-hole they’ve made; Techno follows shortly after. He’s shaking as he curls up tight, leaning against the couch. Phil shifts.

“Hey there, mate,” he says softly. “Can you tell me what’s going on?”

Techno shudders. “Loud,” he whispers. “’s so loud, I don’… don’ like it.”

“Aw, Techno, I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

“We used to watch movies,” Wilbur says. “In the group home. Can… can we…”

Phil smiles. “Of course. I could bring something in here, or if you’d prefer, we could go sit in the living area. There might be other people out there, so it’s okay if you don’t want to leave your room.”

“H- in here,” Techno chokes out, barely lifting his head. “I d- I can’t-”

“Okay,” Phil says soothingly. “It’s okay, Techno, we can do that.”

He goes and gets his laptop, sets it up in the twins’ room. Wilbur puts Carl in Techno’s hands, and curls up beside his twin, wrapping himself in a blanket.

“Would you like me to leave, or stay and keep you company?” Phil gestures to the laptop. “Whatever you choose, you can still watch anything you want.”

A whispered exchange, drowned out by the rain still pounding on the roof. Wilbur glances over at Phil, leans a little more over Techno. More whispering.

Finally Wilbur straightens, keeping his arm curled around Techno. “Stay please?” he asks. “Just don’t- Techno says don’t come too close.”

“Okay.” Phil nods at the computer again. “Is there something in particular you’d like to watch?”

Techno buries his face in his knees again with a whimper. Wilbur looks uncomfortable. “It’s- I don’t- I dunno. It’s-” Wilbur rocks back and forth slightly. “It’s a lot to- to decide.”

“Okay, that’s okay,” Phil says. “I’ll pick something, and if you don’t like it, you tell me, okay?”

Wilbur nods. Techno doesn’t respond.

Phil puts on Robin Hood, the animated Disney movie with the animals Tommy always enjoyed. Wilbur brightens, sitting up straighter to watch.

Phil shifts a bit closer, but gives Techno plenty of space. He keeps half an eye on the twins, relaxing when Techno uncurls a bit and leans against Wilbur.

The quiet is shattered by a clap of thunder.

They both flinch, but Phil is pretty sure it’s Techno who yells. Phil pauses the movie, wings flaring out protectively.

“It’s okay,” he says. “It’s just thunder, we’re okay-”

Another crack. Techno cries out again, curling up tighter and clasping his hands over his head. Wilbur hugs him, he’s shaking too but not as hard as Techno.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Phil murmurs. “Can I move closer?”

Wilbur nods, and Phil scoots slowly closer. The twins don’t flinch when he shakes his wings out, caging them in with the feathered limbs.

“It’s okay,” he repeats. “Wilbur, Techno, you just need to breathe, okay? It’s just thunder, everything is gonna be okay.”

Wilbur nods again; Techno’s sobbing, quiet and breathless, clinging to his brother. Phil dares to reach out, to gently cup Techno’s face.

“Breathe,” he murmurs. “It’s okay, mate, it’s just thunder.”

Another clap of thunder, another cry. Phil scoots another inch closer, hiding a wince when Wilbur’s fingers curl into his feathers. Techno doesn’t try to pull away when Phil runs a hand over his short, close-cropped hair, cupping the back of his head.

It reminds Phil of soothing a smaller Tommy, before he lost his hearing and could just turn his implants off so he didn’t have to hear the thunder. Phil leans closer, and at the slightest hint of pressure Techno pitches forward into his arms. Wilbur follows suit.

For a long time Phil just holds them, soothing Techno’s sobs and Wilbur’s shudders while the storm rages on. They end up half in his lap, still clinging to each other under the shelter of Phil’s wings.

“It’s okay,” he says over and over again, every time thunder crashes and they flinch. “Shh, you’re okay, I’m right here.”

God, Kristin was right, wasn’t she? He’s gone full dad-mode on them.

Well, the twins deserve it.

It’s late when Phil finally leaves the twins’ room, leaves them tangled together, sound asleep. He hopes this is progress, hopes they’ll be comfortable coming to him for reassurance.

Kristin glances up from her tablet when he comes in, smiling softly. “Hey.”

“Hi.” Phil sinks down beside her on the couch, sighing as she puts her arms around him, pulling him closer. “Was the storm fun?”

“Mm.” Kristin runs her hand up the ridge of his wing, and he relaxes into the contact, the long familiarity of it. She cards gentle fingers through the feathers, delicately pulling a cracked one. “How are the twins?”

“Sleeping now. The storm freaked them out.” Phil returns the favor by starting to pick apart a tangle in her messy curls. “They let me hold them, which is… it’s good.”

Another soft hum. This little apartment is so warm and calm and quiet, and Phil feels the tension and worry of the day slipping away.

They sit like that for a long time without speaking. It’s enough, after the long day he spent with the twins, to just sit and exist with his wife.

After a while Tommy stumbles out of the main bedroom, yawning and flopping into his parents’ laps. Phil chuckles softly, smoothing his head.

“You should go back to bed,” he says softly.

Tommy rolls over, signing lazily. “You didn’t come play in the rain with us,” he says with an exaggerated pout.

Phil smiles softly. “Had to take care of the twins.”

Tommy sticks his tongue out, and Kristin lightly flicks the middle of his forehead. “Back to bed,” she signs.

“Noooooo.” Tommy pouts again. “Don’t want to.”

Phil shakes his head, scooping him up with some small difficulty and carrying him into his room. Tommy struggles half-heartedly, glaring when Phil lowers him down onto his bed, mindful of his cracked ribs.

The teen curls around his mess of stuffed animals, flipping Phil off. He rolls his eyes fondly. “Go to sleep,” Phil says.

Tommy snickers, but he does huddle down under his blankets and close his eyes.

“Your son is a menace,” Phil remarks as he comes back into the living room.

Kristin laughs softly, setting aside the tablet. “He gets most of that from you, darling.”

“Nah, not me.” Phil leans on the back of the couch, grinning as he kisses her. “I was never like this before I met you, love.”

“Mm, I’m well aware. I’d like to think I brought out the best of you.”

~~~

Tommy takes breakfast to Wilbur and Techno in the morning.

He hasn’t seen them much in the last couple of days- Phil said they were having a hard time, and Tommy figured it was better not to bother them- but sue him, he really wants to see Techno and properly meet Wilbur.

“G’morning!” he says brightly, nudging their door closed behind him. “Breakfast, big men.”

Wilbur’s head pops up from behind the couch, and he eyes Tommy suspiciously. “I don’t recognize you,” he says.

“Right. I’m Tommy, I’m Phil’s son and I met Techno in the facility where they were keeping you guys.” Tommy sets the tray down on the end of the neatly made up bed- the other is messy, he guesses that’s where they’ve been sleeping. “Anyway, I brought your breakfast. My mom made waffles, they’re still warm.”

Wilbur crawls out, and Tommy passes one of the plates to him. Techno peers out, he doesn’t say anything but he doesn’t seem scared, and he doesn’t flinch when Tommy moves closer to hand him his plate of waffles.

Techno disappears behind the couch again. Tommy grabs his own plate and plops down beside Wilbur on the couch.

“So, what do you like?” he asks around a mouthful of food.

Wilbur handles the fork carefully, tentatively. “Um… well, I read a lot,” he says.

“Cool! Mom stole a bunch of my old books for you, I’m happy you’re enjoying them.” Tommy grins. “What about music, do you like music?”

Wilbur pauses, a strange look coming over his face. “…yeah,” he says after a minute. “I, I used to. I think?”

“We did.” Techno’s voice is muffled. “Remember Mr. C. got us those earbuds so we could use the library computers?”

“Oh, yeah.” Wilbur stares at the wall. “I… think I remember that.”

Tommy gets out his phone, pulling up YouTube. “Do you want to listen to some?” he asks, quietly because Wilbur still looks weird.

Wilbur doesn’t answer; Techno does, after a minute. “We used to listen to Disney songs.”

Tommy grins. “You, big man, are speaking my language.”

He pulls up his Disney playlist and puts it on shuffle. Wilbur perks up as the first notes of “Friend Like Me” play, and before long he’s smiling as he continues eating his waffles. Techno crawls out from behind the couch some time later, during “Do You Wanna Build a Snowman”.

Wilbur tilts his head, looking confused, when an Encanto song starts playing. “What’s this from?”

“Oh, yeah, you wouldn’t know this.” Tommy pauses the music. “We’re watching the movie. You wanna do that? We can watch a movie right now.”

Let it never be said he can’t be patient. Tommy waits until Wilbur nods vigorously, grinning, and Techno shrugs slightly.

“I will be back in like ten seconds,” Tommy says.

He takes off at top speed, zipping through the base to his family’s apartment to grab his laptop. He speeds back in with an audible whoosh, and Wilbur blinks at him.

“What was that?” he rasps.

“Oh, yeah, it’s my mutation.” Tommy shrugs one shoulder, starting to set up the computer. “I basically just run real fast.” …and went deaf, but that’s unimportant.

“Huh, cool.”

~~~

Phil just watches in poorly contained amusement as Tommy zips into his bedroom, grabs his laptop, and runs back out. Kristin shakes her head slightly, her fork clinking against ceramic as she puts it down.

“He’s going to make his ribs worse,” she says, slightly disapproving.

Phil finishes scrubbing a plate and stacks it to the side, dries his hands on his apron. “Ah, let it be,” he says. “He’s keeping the twins company, it’ll be good for them.”

Kristin hums as Phil takes her empty plate. “Cracked bones don’t care how nice someone is trying to be.”

“Agree to disagree.” He leans across the kitchen island to kiss her lightly as she stands. “Don’t forget to take a break for lunch.”

“I’ll try, but I probably have at least three dozen emails waiting for me.”

Phil grimaces sympathetically. “Want a hand?”

“No, thanks.” Kristin leans across the island for another kiss. “Don’t forget to check on the twins.”

“As if.”

Kristin laughs softly and goes out, the door clicking shut behind her.

Phil hums to himself as he finishes washing and drying the dishes. Usually they don’t take the time, but he likes a clean apartment, and he has time, this morning.

He’s on his way to the twins’ room when the base goes suddenly dark.

Phil’s first thought is that the generator went down. It’s happened a couple of times. But then he pulls out his phone to text Sam, and the device- which Phil knows was fully charged this morning- won’t turn on.

A distant explosion is what clues him in to what’s really going on here.

The government found them. They set off an EMP and now their ‘heroes’ are coming.

Muscle memory carries Phil quickly through the pitch-dark base to the armory. Quackity is there already, strapping on his lightweight body armor and shoving daggers into his pockets. Phil lifts down his own body armor, a piece to cover his chest and one that sits between his wings. The next thing he grabs is a gun, and a few spare ammo clips.

It takes less than five minutes, and it’s still far too long.

Ranboo appears in the room with a soft pop and a flurry of purple particles. “Oh, good-” He’s trembling. “Goddess wants someone else on the side door.”

“I’ll go,” Quackity says.

“I’m gonna get to the twins,” Phil says, holstering his gun and strapping on a sword, just for good measure. “Lethe, take Jester.”

Ranboo nods, grabs Quackity’s hand, and the pair vanishes. Phil rolls his shoulders back, starts towards the room as fast as he can go, propelling himself forwards with flaps of his wings.

He’s going to make it. He has to make it.

~~~

When everything goes dark, Techno’s first thought is that somehow, somebody knocked him out.

They sedated him, once or twice, in there. They had really strong drugs that could make him fall asleep in seconds.

But- but no, because Wilbur is gripping his arm tightly enough to hurt, and Tommy is still there. As Techno’s eyes adjust to the darkness, he can tell that Wilbur looks terrified. Tommy’s snapping his fingers next to his ears.

“Okay,” Tommy says after a second, really quietly. “Okay, so- I won’t be able to hear you guys.” His voice is shaky. “But, um- it’s, it’s gonna be okay. Mom and Dad are gonna- they won’t let anything happen to us.”

“Techno,” Wilbur whispers, fingers digging even more into his arm. -scared i’m so scared please please-

“It’s okay,” Techno breathes. He wraps his free arm around Wilbur, holding him as tightly as he can. “I’m gonna protect you, Wil.”

Tommy creeps closer, and Techno lets him come lean against his side. Tommy- Tommy looks scared, too, and maybe there’s not a lot Techno can do to keep them safe but he’s gonna try.

“It’s okay,” Techno whispers again. Wilbur nods against his shoulder; Tommy doesn’t say anything but- but then, Tommy can’t hear him, right? “It’s- we’re okay, Wil, we’re okay-”

They’re okay. They’re okay, standing there clutching each other, backs to the wall. They’re okay. They’re okay, until-

Until the door slams open and familiar black-clad figures swarm the room.

Techno’s blood freezes in his veins. He can’t- he can’t- no, no, no, he- no-

“On your knees, Asset Blade.”

The words ring in his ears, and Techno almost goes. Because he has to or they’ll hurt-

One word echoes down the bond with Wilbur. Just one, pleading and scared.

-techno-

He moves without conscious thought, slipping into the deep shadows of the room, melting into them like they're a part of him.

And he’s not seventeen and safe with Wilbur. He’s ten years old and they’re cutting into him, just a kid just a little kid, and he’s screaming and crying because it hurts so bad.

His power slips through the faults in a grunt’s armor, sharpening the blood in his artery for a brief instant, just long enough to sever it and cut blood flow to his brain-

-and Techno is waking up with his blood curdling in his veins, responding to his unconscious control-

-the next one to fall is the person holding down Wilbur, holding a gun to his head, and Techno makes that kill much more personal. Knocks the pistol away and breaks the man’s neck before vanishing again.

Each body that drops is a silent scream, angry and hurting and hating, hating them all. Hating them for doing this to them, to him and Wilbur, to hurting them for all those years. For taking them away from any semblance of a normal childhood and hurling them into a nightmare.

They made him into this. So now they can suffer the consequences.

It’s over too quickly. He wants- he wants them to hurt, he wants the blood to flow, he wants- he wants-

“Techno?”

He whips around, and- and Wilbur, Wilbur is there. His adrenaline drains away in an instant and Techno wavers, the shadows still pulling at him, crooning to him to slip back into them, blood still longs to coalesce around his hands into weapons, deadly and sharp-

“W- Wil?” he rasps, and then everything goes dark.

~~~

Phil fights his way through the featureless soldiers facing him, cutting a path to the twins’ room. It’s taking far, far too long, he needs to get to the twins, he needs to get to Tommy-

The smell of blood, coppery and thick, hangs in the air, and it’s not blood Phil shed.

He shoves the door open, his emergency beacon lighting up the room. Revealing the bodies littering the floor, Tommy crouched in the corner wide-eyed and shaking, Wilbur kneeling. Shaking the shoulder of the one body that’s not wearing a black suit.

Phil’s heart stops.

Wilbur is crying. “Techno,” he sobs out. “Wake up, please, wake up-”

No. Oh, god, no, Techno- he can’t be-

Phil drops to his knees, fumbling for Techno’s pulse, heedless of Wilbur’s hands still grasping at Techno’s shirt, heedless of the blood drenching the teen’s clothes. It takes what feels like eternity- but Phil finds that heartbeat, thready but regular.

Potent relief washes through him, and Phil wants to cry. “He’s alive,” he says. “Wil, he’s alive, he’s alive.”

“He- he needs- needs to wake up.” Wilbur sobs. “Make him wake up, Phil, please-”

“Breathe.” Phil reaches for his phone, it’s still not back on, and he needs- he needs to get Techno to medical now, because clammy skin and thready pulse can only mean one of two things: he’s going into shock, or he’s lost too much blood. “Breathe, Wilbur.”

Techno might be hurt, badly, Phil has no way of knowing. He’s covered in blood, and Phil can’t tell if any of it is his but it could be-

And he’s not going to let Techno die, not now, not when he’s so close to finally being safe and free forever.

Phil waves Tommy over, his son is shaking and his fear still echoes down their bond but he comes anyway and curls into Phil’s side. Phil presses a kiss to Tommy’s temple, presses love-calm into his mind, and then has to let him go.

“Go find Niki,” Phil signs. “Be careful.”

Tommy nods, hiding his face in Phil’s shoulder for a second before taking off. Phil keeps his fingers on Techno’s pulse.

“Wilbur,” he says softly, “did Techno do all this?”

Wilbur gasps in a breath, nodding. “He- I was scared, and he- he just-”

“He protected you.”

“He used- he used his powers.” Wilbur’s voice is just a whimper.

Ah, he understands the crash now. Overusage is a bitch, Phil wouldn’t wish it on anyone but least of all Technoblade, who never wanted any of this in the first place. Who hates his mutation and is so scared to use his powers.

Tommy zips back in after a minute, skidding to a halt and colliding with Phil’s wing. Phil grimaces, righting himself.

“Niki’s coming,” Tommy gasps, a bit too loud. “Mom- Mom got hurt, can I-”

“Go,” Phil says. Realizes, and lifts his hand to sign instead. “Go.”

He doesn’t have time to worry about Kristin. That will come later, when Techno is out of danger- for now, he has to compartmentalize. Kristin is in good hands, and Techno’s heartbeat is too fast, his breathing shallow, and he’s still unconscious.

Tommy dashes away. Wilbur’s rocking, still crying and clutching Techno’s hand.

“Breathe, Wil,” Phil says. He reaches across Techno’s chest to hold Wilbur’s hand, to focus on taming the overwhelming worry and terror inside him. “Help is coming, Techno’s gonna be okay.”

Niki’s there in another couple of minutes, kneeling at Techno’s head and tilting his chin back. “He’s in shock,” she says after a second, confirming Phil’s suspicions. “He’s stable at the moment but we need to get him out of these clothes, get him warm.”

“Don’t hurt him,” Wilbur whimpers.

“We’re not gonna hurt him.” Phil squeezes his hand, Wilbur is still so scared. “Promise, mate. We don’t hurt you, remember?”

Wilbur’s eyelids flutter closed. “Safe,” he breathes after a few seconds. “S- safe here.”

“Yeah, mate. You’re safe here.”

~~~

Techno’s dizzy when he wakes up, but there are familiar fingers curled around his wrist and he’s not scared.

-tech okay better now okay okay safe-

Wilbur, Wilbur’s here, and Techno sighs softly. He- he doesn’t feel good.

“He-ey.” That’s not… not Wilbur’s voice. “You guys doing okay?”

Wilbur holds Techno’s hand a little tighter. “Yeah, he- he’s waking up.”

A pause. “Still can’t hear you, sorry.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

Another pause. “Good. Good, uh- I’m- my dad’s gonna be here soon, he’ll be able to tell you better what’s going on. But you guys are- yeah. You’re safe.”

“Tommy.” A longer pause. Techno forces his eyes open, his vision is blurry and spinny but he makes out Phil’s hands moving, him waving Tommy away.

Phil comes in all the way. “Hey, hi,” he says softly. “How’re you doin’, Wil?”

“Fine.” He squeezes Techno’s arm. “Tech’s waking up.”

Phil hums. “Feeling okay, Techno?”

“D-” He closes his eyes tight because of the nausea. “Dizzy. ‘n’ sick.”

“I bet.” Phil shifts. “You were in shock, you have an IV in right now for fluids but we’ll get it out as soon as we can, okay?”

“’kay.” Techno tries to reach for Wilbur’s hand, and his twin changes his grip to lace their fingers together. “S- safe?”

“Yeah,” Phil says softly. “You’re safe, both of you are safe.”

Techno exhales, closer to a sob. He- he was scared. He was so scared.

“Oh- oh, mate, it’s okay.” Phil moves closer, and when Techno doesn’t flinch away, takes his other hand. Calmness trickles in, easing his mixed-up emotions. “It’s over now.”

“You kept me safe,” Wilbur whispers. He squeezes Techno’s hand. “You saved me, Tech.”

Tears are running down his face, he- he did? He kept Wilbur safe?

“You did so good, mate.” Phil’s voice sounds so warm. “It’s all done now, you can rest.”

He- his powers, did he… “I u-used m’ powers?”

“Yeah, you did,” Phil murmurs. Warmth and calm still soothing him. “I know that must’ve been really hard, but you did what you had to do to protect yourself and Wilbur and Tommy.”

“’s okay now,” Wilbur whispers, he puts his head down on Techno’s shoulder. “’s over.”

Techno relaxes into the bed, trembling all over.

It’s over. It’s over.

Chapter Text

It’s over, Phil has said, but it is far from that.

They have so many bodies to deal with.

Most of the government tools are alive, and they locked them all up after treating the injured. The Syndicate are not going to be portrayed as villains, not after all the effort they’ve put in to help people.

The bodies- Phil’s pretty sure most of the casualties are Techno’s work. He can’t blame the teen, he would’ve done the same to protect his family.

It’s still an absolute shitshow, and with Kristin in the medbay, Phil has to handle the public-facing aspects of the fallout.

It’s not till late, very late that day after, that he finds the time to just sit down with his wife.

Kristin smiles as he sinks into the chair beside her bed in the med bay, her face lined with pain. “Hi,” she says softly.

“Hey.” Phil puts his head down on the bed, and her hand lands in his hair, soothing tension away from his scalp. “Doin’ okay?” he manages.

“Mm. A bit tired, but Niki says I’ll be able to leave tomorrow.”

“Good. That’s- that’s really good.”

Kristin hums, picking out a knot in his hair. “How are things going?”

Phil groans, exhausted and aching.

“Oh, honey.”

“It’s a fucking mess out there.” He groans again as her hand dips to his wing, carding gently through the itching feathers. “They- I don’t know who’s handling the prisoners. Media hasn’t caught wind of all this yet but it- it’s only a matter of time.”

“Anybody else injured?”

“Techno wore himself out pretty badly, but Niki says he’ll be okay with rest and time. Ah, almost everybody’s got bruises and cuts, but nobody- I think you and Jack were the only ones hurt bad enough to need medical attention.”

“Good, that’s good.” Kristin plucks a broken feather, and Phil sighs at the relief. “Tommy’s been in here most of the day. Sam won’t be able to get to fixing his implants for a day or two, he thinks.”

“He’ll live.”

Kristin laughs softly. “How’re the twins?”

Phil hesitates. “I haven’t had a lot of time to talk to them. But probably not great. I mean, with what they just went through-”

“Mm.” Kristin pauses, tilting his face up so Phil has to meet her gaze. “And how’s Phil?”

He closes his eyes. “Exhausted,” he breathes, the exhale ragged.

“Oh, hon. It’s been a long, long day, hasn’t it?”

He nods, and Kristin hums quietly, brushing her thumb over his cheekbone.

“You should get some rest,” she murmurs after a minute, tapping lightly on his face.

Phil sighs, putting his head back down on the mattress. “Yeah. Yeah, I… I should go get Tommy to bed, too.”

“Yeah.” Kristin smooths his hair. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

He’d like to stay with her, but he knows Tommy needs him more, right now.

Phil glances in on the twins on his way out- they’re sleeping, he thinks, Wilbur curled up to Techno’s side in the narrow hospital bed. He pauses again by Niki’s desk to remind her to get some rest, though he doubts she’ll actually listen.

Tommy’s in the apartment already, eating a nutrient bar. He glances up when Phil comes in, pouting.

“Can’t hear shit.”

That startles a tired laugh out of him. “Your implants are broken,” Phil signs.

“I know. It’s still annoying.” Tommy scowls. “How’s Mom?” he asks then, expression falling into something younger, vulnerable. “No one tells me anything.”

“She’s fine. Be home tomorrow.”

“Oh. Good.”

Phil shakes his wings out, going across to sit on the arm of the couch. “Bed.”

Tommy groans, flopping over backwards. “Noooo.”

Phil chuckles, tapping his face until Tommy opens his eyes to glare at him. “Yes,” he signs. “Go, go.”

Tommy rolls his eyes, but he does get up and shamble across to the bathroom. Phil watches him go with undisguised amusement, such fondness he can hardly contain it.

Tommy clearly feels some of it, because he flips Phil the bird over his shoulder.

“Little shit,” Phil chuckles, and goes into his own room.

He’s getting under the covers when Tommy knocks on the door, opening it after a few seconds. He looks uncertain, rubbing his eyes with the sleeve of his too-big pajama shirt.

“What?” Phil signs, straightening.

“Can I sleep with you tonight?” Tommy barely looks up as he signs. “Please?”

He still doesn’t look up, but apparently takes Phil’s rush of love as an answer, coming across to clamber over him and collapse in the middle of the bed. Phil tucks Tommy up in the blankets, pulling his son close.

Close, and safe.

Tommy’s asleep in seconds. Phil’s exhausted, but he forces himself to stay awake for a little bit longer, just to listen to Tommy’s breathing and watch the tiny flickers of his eyelids. Just to hold his son and rest.

Phil does not have his mask on.

It feels wrong, but they’ve decided it’s time to reveal more to the public. Not their identities, but they need to try to get ahead of the stories the government is sure to release soon.

He stands behind the podium again, gazing at Kristin as she counts down to the broadcast start. Everything is moving too quickly, it’s not time, but this needs to happen.

Thumbs-up.

“Citizens of Essempii.” Phil maintains rigid composure, complete calm. “I am sure that by now, you’ve heard rumors of the events that occurred two days ago. I am here to give you something you rarely receive: the truth.”

He pauses to take a steadying breath.

“The truth,” Phil continues, “is that two days ago, your government, your so-called protectors, launched an attack on the Syndicate base. We cannot state, with certainty, the purpose of this attack; however, we suspect that they intended to destroy the base, or kill our leadership. Very likely, to recapture the children we recently rescued.

“Despite the Syndicate’s best efforts to avoid lethal force, sixteen government agents were killed. This was done in self-defense, and in defense of the vulnerable children under our protection. We regret the loss of life, and that it had to come to this.”

He pauses, glancing over at Kristin. She nods, encouraging.

“We are currently holding nearly thirty surviving agents from the attack. I understand that their families and loved ones must be anxious; rest assured that they will be released, unharmed, by the end of the day.” Phil shifts. “The last thing we want is to hurt anyone. But now that the government knows where we are, we know they will be coming for us. We will not hesitate to defend ourselves, and we will continue to defend those who do not have the power to protect themselves. Thank you for your time.”

The camera cuts, Phil steps away from the podium, and it’s done.

He wonders if his parents have been watching. They’re still alive- he keeps tabs on them, despite… well, despite them being who they are- but he hasn’t had contact with them since he was a teenager. They don’t know he’s married and they certainly don’t know he has a son, and he’d never let them anywhere near Tommy even if they did know.

He should stop thinking about them.

“That went well,” Kristin remarks as Phil finally moves to sit beside her.

“I suppose.” He puts his head in his hands, trying to ignore the phantom ache in his wings. “I hope this was the right thing to do.”

“To let them see your face?” She runs her hand over his head, down his back to rest just above his wing joints. “We decided they need to be able to trust us.”

“They’re gonna have my identity in hours.”

“Tommy and I are safe,” Kristin murmurs.

She knows him so well. Phil’s not worried for himself- he’s more than capable of protecting himself- but Kristin and Tommy could be in danger, just by being his family. They could be held hostage, or-

“Love, you’re worrying again.” Kristin shifts to lean closer, her warm love a balm to his racing anxiety. “We’ll be okay. All of us, we are safe, we are going to be okay.”

“I just- I- I have to keep you safe. I can’t-”

“Phil. Philza. My love.” Kristin tips his face up, kissing him softly, pulling his forehead to rest against hers. “We are safe,” she murmurs. “The Syndicate defenses are stronger than ever, no one will get to us.”

“They know where we are.” They talked about all of this last night, he knows he doesn’t have to still be worrying, but he can’t stop. “They’re gonna make that public, you know they are, and they’re gonna make my identity public, and then-”

“And if they come for us, we will protect ourselves.” Kristin exhales softly, smoothing the stubble on his jaw. “There’s something else on your mind.”

Phil tries to breathe slowly, evenly. “My parents.”

He’s drawn his wings tight to his body again. Kristin shifts even closer, letting him drop his head to rest on her shoulder, wrap one arm around her waist.

“What if they were watching? What if they-”

“What did I promise you that day?”

The day that Phil stumbled out of his parents’ house, bloody and bruised, to collapse on Kristin’s family’s doorstep. The day she took off his wing harness for good.

“That you would never let them hurt me again.”

Kristin leans her head against his, rubbing at the base of his wings. “Have I ever broken that promise?”

Phil had stayed with her and her father for the next couple of years, until they got married and got an apartment together. He hadn’t had a high school graduation (he’d never finished high school) and their wedding had been a small, private affair. He hasn’t even seen his parents since the day they ripped out his feathers and clamped his wings into a too-tight, too-small harness.

“No,” he exhales.

“You won’t have to see them.”

“I know.” Another breath lets some tension drain out of his body. “It’s just- they were horrible about my wings, but other than that they- they were good parents, you know?”

Kristin sighs. “I know.”

“And I- I still feel bad that they didn’t get to see all- all this. My life. They don’t know they have a grandson.”

She forces him to lean back slightly so he’s looking her in the eyes. “Do you want to see them?”

And he knows- because he can feel her emotions- that she’s not judging. He knows, because he knows Kristin, that she wouldn’t be angry if he said yes.

“I don’t know.” He does, and he doesn’t. Because they hurt him, but they- they were still his parents, and he still loves them. Despite everything.

She sighs again, softly. “Let’s- we’ll deal with that if it ever comes, okay?”

“Yeah.” Phil takes a deep breath, scrubbing his eyes dry and shaking out his wings. Composing himself by sheer willpower. “I- I should go check on Tommy.”

Kristin shakes her head slightly. “Your emotional avoidance won’t work forever.”

“I’ll break down when I’m sure everyone is safe.”

He goes down the hall to the med bay quickly. Tommy’s in surgery- Niki always does it in one of the glass-walled isolation rooms so Phil and Kristin can see him if they want to.

Tommy’s had three surgeries, now, for his implants, but that’s still three more than any kid should have. Phil’s seen him like this a lot. Laid out on the table, pale and still, while Niki cuts into his head.

It never gets easier.

Niki glances up, acknowledging Phil with a brief nod and getting back to it. He watches for a few minutes, putting together that they’re almost done.

It’s so rare to see Tommy still, and Phil hates that it’s like this. Hates it so much, seeing Tommy intubated and hooked up to monitoring equipment.

He supposes it’s the trauma. He’s still never been able to get past those first terrifyingly fraught weeks of Tommy’s life.

But this is to help him hear again, and so Phil endures it.

~~~

Tommy scrunches up his face, trying to open his eyes. He feels all… all slow and sleepy, and he’s warm.

His hand is pressed against something that’s warm and bumpy, vibrating under his fingers. It feels… it feels kind of familiar…

He blinks, his vision is all blurry and fuzzy but he can see his dad leaning over him, holding Tommy’s hand so his fingers are pressed against Phil’s throat. He’s talking… Tommy thinks so, anyway, because his dad’s lips are moving, but he can’t… he can’t hear him… why can’t Tommy hear him?

Oh… right. His implants were broken. He just had surgery to replace them.

“Hi,” Tommy tries to say.

Phil smiles, leaning over to kiss Tommy’s forehead. “Hey,” he says with his free hand. “You okay?”

Tommy hums. It takes him a second to get his eyes open again after the next blink.

Phil smiles bigger, eyes crinkling like he’s laughing. “Sleepy?” he asks, still one-handed.

“No.” Tommy yawns right away, and he pouts at the amused look on his dad’s face. “Don’ make fun of me.”

Phil shakes his head slightly, kissing Tommy’s forehead again. “Go to sleep.”

“Nooooo…”

“Yes, yes,” Phil says. He presses Tommy’s fingers a little harder against his throat, humming so Tommy can feel the vibrations. He’s petting Tommy’s hair, too, and that’s making it really, really, really hard to stay awake.

His mom is with him when he wakes up, and with the anesthesia out of his system he can think again.

“Hi, baby,” she signs, smiling softly. “Feeling okay?”

“Better.” Tommy yawns, flailing out with one hand to grab his mom’s shirt. “Still tired.”

“I bet.” She shifts to sit on the bed beside him, instead of the chair, so he can lay his arm across her lap and hold on better. “Niki says the surgery went well.”

“Good,” Tommy mumbles. He yawns. “When can I get up?”

“Tomorrow.” Tommy pouts, and he’s pretty sure his mom is laughing at him as she smooths his hair. “Be patient,” she says. “You need to recover.”

Tommy groans, rolling his eyes. “I want my hearing back.”

“You need to wait.” Kristin shakes her head, her smile holding an air of loving exasperation. “Go slow for a while.”

Tommy pouts some more. “I hate going slow.”

“I know.” She smooths his hair again, careful of the bandages. “You’ll be better in no time.”

He hums, trying to hug his mom better with one arm. She squeezes his hand briefly, smiling softly.

“Are Wilbur and Techno okay?”

“Dad’s checking on them. We think they’re okay.”

Tommy’s always liked watching his mom sign. His dad is more deliberate, a little slower, but his mom’s hands move like music.

He tugs her shirt again when she tries to shift away. “Keep talkin’?” he asks.

Kristin smiles, leaning over to kiss his forehead. “Of course, baby.”

~~~

Techno thinks he can still smell blood.

They haven’t seen Phil yet. It was Puffy who brought them to the new room after Techno woke up in the med bay with Wilbur curled up against him, with an IV in his arm.

The room they’re in now is almost the same as their old one, but it’s… not. When Wilbur asked, Puffy said they hadn’t finished cleaning it yet. At least they have Carl and Friend, still.

…Techno’s hands are shaking.

He woke up screaming from a dream he can’t remember, and Wilbur pulled him down here, behind the chair. Techno’s still sitting there, trembling, while Wilbur builds a blanket fort over and around him.

“Are you scared?” Wilbur whispers, tucking a blanket into place under the edge of the mattress.

It’s dark, and Techno wonders if Wilbur can see at all. He can, because his powers let him, enough to be aware of his surroundings.

He’s supposed to be answering Wilbur’s question, but he opens his mouth and nothing comes out. He can’t talk. He’s not allowed to talk.

“Oh.” Wilbur pauses, fumbling for a second until he finds Techno’s arm, and wraps a blanket around him. “It’s okay, Tech. I’m here.”

It’s okay. They’re okay. They’re safe.

Techno is scared. He thinks maybe he’s always scared.

He doesn’t know how to stop.

Wilbur finishes whatever he’s doing and comes over to pull Techno down into the pillows he piled up in the middle of the blanket fort. Wilbur feels cold, and Techno reaches for him with still-shaking hands, pulling his twin as close as he can get.

“I’m okay,” Wilbur breathes, wrapping his arms around Techno’s neck. “We’re both okay. We’re safe.”

Techno can’t trust it and he doesn’t know why.

He tries to talk again, but all that comes out is a little whimper. Wilbur hugs him a little tighter, then pulls a blanket over them.

“No more bad dreams,” Wilbur says. “Okay? We’re done with that.”

It’s familiar, falling asleep on the floor with Wilbur curled up beside him. It’s easier, this way.

He wakes up, and Wilbur’s not there.

Techno panics for a second, but he can still feel his twin’s pulse near by and it’s steady, regular, so he must be okay.

Techno should get up, but he doesn’t want to. So he just rolls over and curls up on his side, pulling the blanket up under his chin.

He doesn’t flinch at the knock on the door. He’s getting better at that. Besides, he’s pretty sure it’s Phil.

“Yeah, come in,” Wilbur calls, voice a little raspy.

The door opens. “Hey, mate,” Phil says. He sounds tired. “You and Techno doin’ okay?”

Techno feels shaky and scared, still. Not as badly, right now, because Wilbur’s right there and they’re safe. But he still doesn’t feel better. He doesn’t feel okay.

“I guess,” Wilbur mutters.

“Can I sit down?”

“Yeah…”

The couch creaks. It’s different from the one they had before. Everything is different from their old room. Techno doesn’t… he doesn’t dislike the change, but it makes him feel even more shaky and unsettled.

“I brought you some yogurt for breakfast, is Techno up yet?”

Wilbur hesitates. “I think he’s awake,” he says after a minute. “But I don’t think he’s ready to get up yet.”

“That’s okay.” Something clinks. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around to check on you in a couple of days.”

“’s fine,” Wilbur says.

It’s quiet for a couple of minutes. Techno burrows a little deeper into his blanket nest, hugging a pillow.

“Can I talk to Techno?” Phil asks after a while.

-techno can you-

He clears his throat, making his voice unstick. “Yeah,” he whispers.

Shuffling sounds, and the edge of a blanket lifts slightly. “Can I come in?” Phil asks softly.

Techno tugs the blanket half over his face. “Yeah.”

Phil crawls in, keeping his wings held low, sitting as far away from Techno as he can be inside the blanket fort. “Hi,” he says, still in that soft, gentle voice. “You look cozy.”

“Mm-hm.”

“You feeling okay? I know what happened a few days ago must’ve been pretty rough.”

Techno swallows harshly, remembering-

He’s been trying not to. Remember it, that is. Or think about it at all. Wilbur, in danger. Losing control of his powers. Killing- all of those people-

-techno techno it’s okay we’re safe-

He sniffles, hiding his face in the blanket for a second. “Uh-huh.”

Phil hums, adjusting his wings. “I bet you were pretty scared,” he murmurs.

Techno whines softly, hugging the pillow tighter. He was. He still is. “It won’t stop,” he whimpers.

“Aw, mate, I’m sorry.”

Sometimes when Phil touches him, he gets calmer. “Can- can you make it stop?”

Phil doesn’t answer right away. “I could,” he says after a little bit. “But it’s not good for you if I do that too much.”

Techno pushes his face into the pillow. “I don’t like being scared.”

“I know. I know, mate, I’m sorry.” Phil sighs. “It might take a while for you to feel better, I’m sorry, but we can’t rush through healing.”

Phil doesn’t try to make him leave the blanket fort. Techno doesn’t want to, anyway.

Puffy comes to talk to him after a while. She says it’s okay for him to stay in here as long he needs to, to feel safe. She says it’s okay to just be scared for a while.

After lunch, Wilbur pokes his head in through the blankets. “Do you want me to read to you?” he asks, really quiet.

Techno leans his head back against the wall. “I guess.”

Wilbur tilts his head, looking contemplative. “I have a better idea.”

He disappears, and Techno curls up a little, wrapping his arms around his legs and resting his chin on his knees. After a minute Wilbur crawls in and puts down a stack of smaller, thin books, brightly colored.

“I’m gonna help you learn how to read again,” he says, nodding sharply.

“…oh.” Techno thinks he might be going to cry. “Okay.”

Techno hasn’t left the blanket fort, except to go to the bathroom, in like three or four days.

Wilbur crawls in and sleeps on the floor with him every night. It’s more like a nest, now, because Phil brought them a lot more pillows and blankets so they could make it comfier.

Phil’s still bringing them all their food. Some days he comes into the fort and sits with Techno while he eats; some days, Techno doesn’t want him to, so Phil sits on the couch with Wilbur instead.

“Wilbur,” Techno whispers one day, interrupting his twin trying to teach him to read some more, “we’re safe, right?”

Wilbur puts the book down. “Yeah. Of course we are.”

Techno pulls his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. “I don’t feel safe,” he whispers.

“I know,” Wilbur says. He puts the book down, folding his arms on top of his drawn-up knees. “Puffy said that’s normal, remember?”

“But I want to.”

He did feel safe, for a while, but now he doesn’t and he doesn’t know why. Puffy said she thinks it’s because he doesn’t feel like he has to be strong for Wilbur anymore.

Wilbur hums. “I think you will, eventually. I did, remember?”

That- makes sense, actually. “Oh… I guess.”

“See? So- so it’ll get better.”

Techno sniffles, putting his head down on his arms. “What if I don’t?” he whispers.

“I’ll still be here.” Wilbur’s voice is so soft. He scoots closer, pressing against Techno’s side. “I’ll always be here.”

Wilbur will be here. He- he’s right here and Techno can hold him, and he doesn’t have to let go-

He hugs Wilbur, as tight as he can. His twin makes a startled sound, but then he curls in, holding on to Techno just as tightly.

And sitting there, holding his twin as close as he can, Techno realizes something.

He’s not scared that they’ll take Wilbur away anymore.

He’s still scared, he doesn’t know why or of what, but he’s not scared that he’ll lose Wilbur. Because no one here has done anything to keep them apart- the opposite, actually, they’ve done everything they can to keep them together.

They’re safe. They’re really, really safe.

~~~

one year later

Wilbur jerks awake with a silent scream, hands clutching at his chest. He can’t- he can’t breathe oh god he can’t- he can’t-

-techno TECHNO help help help-

The shadows warp in the corners of his vision and Techno’s there, strong hands gripping Wilbur’s shoulders. Wilbur pitches forward into his twin’s chest with a sob.

“-lbur, Wil, what’s wrong, what happened?” Techno’s hands roam over his body, his arms, searching for some wound. He sounds panicked.

“N-” Wilbur chokes, he grips Techno’s nightshirt as tightly as he can. “Ni-ightma-are,” he gets out.

Techno exhales harshly, bringing his hand up to the back of Wilbur’s head. Pressing Wilbur’s face into his own shoulder, his other hand running up and down the line of Wilbur’s spine.

“Damnit,” he breathes. “Scared me so bad, Wil.”

“S- sor-”

“No.” Techno cuts him off savagely, but it doesn’t make Wilbur more scared. “Don’t apologize, we don’t do that.”

Wilbur nods slightly, clinging as closely to Techno as he can manage. He’s crying, he can feel his tears dampening Techno’s shirt, but his twin doesn’t seem to care.

“What was it about?” Techno asks, when Wilbur’s breathing has settled into an even rhythm.

Wilbur’s chest hitches. “The- the lab,” he breathes. “I- they were hurting you and I- I had t’watch.”

Techno just adjusts his grip to hold Wilbur closer. “It’s over,” he whispers. “All over, Wil. That place is ashes. It’s as gone as gone can be.”

“I s- still don’t-” Wilbur whimpers, curling up tighter into Techno’s arms, tucking himself up as close to his twin as he can get. “I don’t feel safe. Sometimes.”

A long pause. “Me, too,” Techno says at last. “S’okay. We… we’ll still be safe. Even though we don’t feel like it. Phil, he promised, remember?”

Phil promises that a lot. That they’re safe. That they’ll never have to do anything they don’t want to, ever again. And it’s- Wilbur tries to believe it, he does, but it’s so so hard sometimes.

Phil says that’s okay. Everybody does. Everyone here is- is nice to them, and it’s hard to comprehend. Wilbur doesn’t understand how they can be, sometimes.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “We- we’re safe. Cause Phil said so. And Phil’s-”

“Good.” Techno exhales, breath ruffling Wilbur’s hair. “Yeah.”

Wilbur sighs. “’m still sorry f’r waking you up.”

“No, you needed me and I came. It’s okay.”

Wilbur is always cold, and Techno’s so, so warm. He lets himself go limp, relaxing into his twin.

“Always come wh’n I call.”

“Yeah, Wil,” Techno murmurs, “I’ll always come when you want me.”

They sit like that for a while longer, and Wilbur almost falls back asleep. He’s conscious, barely, of Techno easing him back to lay on his mattress. He whimpers when his twin tries to leave, reaching after him with clumsy fingers.

Techno comes back, and lays down beside him, pulling the blanket up to cover both of them. Wilbur curls up against his twin’s chest with a satisfied hum.

Like this, it’s so much easier to drift back to sleep.