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Snow crunched underfoot as he approached the pair of houses. Tommy bundled his cloak around himself as a gust of wind blew snowflakes into his face. He blinked to clear his vision, then continued pushing through the snow after glancing at the setting sun.
“Technoblade!” he shouted as he approached the house. “Techno! Are you in there?”
He began to stomp up the steps, knocking the snow off his thoroughly-soaked sneakers. “I figured I would come stop by up here, considering how you helped me in exile, you know. Nobody knows where Dream is, but–”
He opened the front door without knocking and froze, staring at the figure leaning back on the wall and a few pillows in front of the fireplace. Dream was turning a wooden puzzle over in his hands, moving and twisting it gently in an effort to separate the two – or three – pieces. He was topless, with bandages covering his torso, and his left leg was splinted and outstretched in front of him. A grey cloth covered his eyes and was tied behind his head, the tails laying on his shoulders, along with his ragged, shoulder-length hair. It was somewhat matted, but it seemed freshly cleaned.
“The fuck are you doing here?!” Tommy screamed, stuck in the doorway. His legs felt rooted in the spot while his heart threatened to leap out of his throat. He fumbled with his sword in its sheath, putting his hand on the hilt, but not drawing it. “You green bastard– you think you can just hide up here and– and plot ? You've just been playing with a puzzle and thinking of your revenge and–”
Dream’s body was stiff and the puzzle fell into his lap. He moved slowly, almost painfully, to root his fingers in his hair, pulling on it around the cloth wrapping his eyes. He seemed to curl in on himself, and Tommy stopped, watching as Dream appeared to have a silent panic attack. He watched confusedly as Dream inhaled and exhaled rapidly, tugging harshly at his hair.
“Oh, hey Tommy.” Tommy jumped at Technoblade’s unexpected presence behind him, looking over his shoulder to see the casual way he held a sheep carcass at his side. He pushed past Tommy into the main room of the house. “I see you met–” He dropped the sheep and strode swiftly to Dream’s side, crouching beside him and wiping sheep blood from his hands onto his pants.
Gently, as if the panicking man was a piece of glass that might break, Technoblade took his hands and unravelled them from his hair, holding them loosely in his. Dream offered no resistance. “Hey Dream, wanna tell me what’s wrong? Come on, breathe for me, okay? Just breathe. Deep breaths – you’ve got this.”
“Technoblade, what’s going on?” Tommy asked, his shock and outrage returning. “Why is he here? Why is he alive?”
“Tommy. You and the sheep to the kitchen,” Techno ordered as Dream began mumbling, his gaze locked on his lap. He placed one of Dream’s hands on his chest and took an exaggerated breath, and his tone shifted immediately to a softer one. “It’s just Tommy, Dream. Just Tommy. He’s not gonna hurt you, okay? I’ll keep him away.”
“Techno, what?” Tommy took a few steps into the room as Dream shifted in Techno’s arms, pulling him closer and burying his face in the fabric of his cloak. Techno wrapped him in an embrace in response, pressing his nose into Dream’s hair.
“Kitchen, Tommy,” he repeated, then returned to taking deep breaths, trying to set a rhythm for Dream. Tommy scoffed and picked up the sheep, dragging it to the ladder and making his way down to the array of chests and furnaces that served as Techno’s kitchen area beneath the main floor of his base. He sat down on top of a crafting table with a huff and waited for Technoblade.
The piglin hybrid descended the ladder a few minutes later, carrying a brewing stand over his shoulder. He put it down unceremoniously and began retrieving potion ingredients from his inventory, pushing Tommy off the crafting bench and using it as a cutting board. He took out a glistering melon slice and cut it into fourths as an awkward potion brewed, the water bubbling and boiling as it combined with the nether wart.
“So, what’s he doing here?” Tommy asked, breaking the silence.
Techno added one of the small slices of melon to the brewing stand. “I broke him out,” he said simply, shrugging. “The prison wasn’t good for him, and I owed him a favour.”
“What do you mean the prison wasn’t good for him?!” Tommy shouted. “He’s manipulating you, Technoblade, just like he manipulated everyone else.”
“It’s hard to fake a panic attack that bad,” Techno mumbled. He turned to Tommy and looked him dead in the eyes. “Tommy, I’m gonna be completely honest with you.”
“Yeah?”
“It would have been better if he’d died in Pandora’s, Tommy.” Techno’s voice was flat as he removed the potions from the brewing stand. “No human deserves to be tortured within an inch of his life, not even someone like Dream.”
“What? What do you mean, ‘tortured’?”
“You heard me.”
Techno climbed back up the ladder and Tommy followed, his head spinning. On one hand, Dream was a manipulating monster who had exiled and nearly forced Tommy to kill himself. On the other, the man he’d seen mere minutes earlier seemed to be a broken shadow of his former self, all but collapsing in Techno’s arms the second he felt him. Something inside Tommy cracked as he realised how familiar the motion was: throwing himself into Technoblade’s stoic, yet protective embrace as he fought against the onslaught of hopelessness and loneliness that resulted from exile.
Dream was staring into space when they arrived upstairs; if it could be called a stare with how the blindfold covered his eyes. Techno tapped his foot on the floorboards, and Dream turned to face him, shifting in his seat.
“Hey,” Techno said softly, crouching beside Dream and holding a potion out for him. “I’ve got a healing potion for you. Tommy’s still here, but he’s gonna be nice,” he added, shooting Tommy a meaningful glance.
Tommy ignored him in favour of asking a question. “How come you diluted it so much, Technoblade?”
“It’s easier on the stomach,” Techno replied as Dream accepted the potion, pulling out the cork with visible effort and beginning to drink the pale red liquid. He stood and walked to the window, then nearly sprinted back, taking the now-empty bottle and tucking it away. “Dream, you need to hide right now, okay?”
“What? What’s happening?” Tommy asked as Techno walked to the box – his box – in the corner and opened it. He returned quickly and gathered Dream into his arms with ease. He helped him crawl into the box, the man abnormally silent, even as he seemed on the brink of another panic attack. Techno closed the box and picked up the blankets on the floor, moving them beside the ladder.
“Tommy, I need you to bring these downstairs. After that, I want you to wait a minute, then go around the back of the house and come up the front stairs,” Techno said tightly as someone knocked on the front door. “You’re going to help me get them to leave peacefully.”
“And why should I do that, Techno?” Tommy shot back, crossing his arms.
“Because I have answers, Tommy.” Techno’s voice was hard as he stared Tommy down, his eyes unreadable. “You’re in too far, now. Do as I said.”
With that, Techno crossed the room and put his hand on the door handle. The teen hesitated, then did as he was told, descending the ladder after pushing the pillows and blankets off the ledge into the basement. He dropped down after them, but remained on the ladder as he listened to Technoblade answer the door.
“Quackity. Sam,” he rumbled, his tone flat as ever. “Why are you here?”
“Well, as I’m sure you’ve heard, the prisoner recently escaped from Pandora’s Vault.” Tommy recognised Big Q’s voice the moment he began to speak.
“We wanted to know if you’d seen him,” he heard Sam continue, and oh , a few pieces clicked into place. Sam was the Warden of the prison – if Dream had been tortured, as Techno said (and Tommy was almost willing to believe him, given the amount of bandages), then hearing Sam’s voice was likely to have the same effect on Dream as when Tommy was in the same position, hiding from a man who tormented him daily.
For a second, Tommy remembered the panic he felt every time Dream came close to his hiding box. He remembered clasping both hands over his mouth in an effort to not make a sound. He remembered the claustrophobia crowding in from the tight, rough wood. He remembered the vivid imagery of a white, inscrutable, smiling mask, daring him to do it again, and he remembered being desperate for the experience – because it involved people – even though it forced him to have constant anxiety and a sense of impending doom.
“I have not,” Techno said slowly, ponderously. Tommy heard the familiar sound of The Blade shifting his blade in its scabbard, a small – yet effective – threat. “Why do you think he would be here?”
“The whole server knows you owe him a favour, Technoblade,” Quackity said. “Rumour has it you helped him escape.”
“And what rumours would those be?”
Tommy slid down the ladder and ran to the back door, the conversation fading. He slowed himself to a walk, then sauntered out the door and strode to the front of the house, pushing his hands through his hair to rough it up and relieve some tension.
“Oh hey, Big Q,” he greeted them, taking in how both men were clad head to toe in netherite armour. It was impressive and intimidating, although Technoblade’s presence took away some of the leverage they had. “What are you doing here?”
“Just asking Technoblade some questions,” Quackity replied, a flash of irritation crossing his features. He turned back to the piglin hybrid. “He couldn’t have gotten so far without help, and we’ve already searched the main part of the SMP.”
Techno cocked an eyebrow at that. “‘Couldn’t have gotten so far’?” he parroted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Surely nothing terrible is happening in the prison.”
Quackity had the decency to look offended. “Nothing he didn’t deserve, Technoblade. He did some horrible things to this server. He’s a monster.”
“Who? Dre–” Tommy’s voice caught in his throat. He remembered lonely plains and shattered destruction, torn apart by ruthless explosions.
“Yes. Dream,” Quackity confirmed, his frustration saturating his words. He gestured at himself and Sam. “We believe he’s hiding here with Technoblade, and we believe he helped him escape.”
“Well, I haven’t seen him,” Tommy said, adding a small shake to his voice, because no , he hadn’t seen Dream. He hadn’t seen the monster from before Pandora’s Vault that Quackity was referring to. “Tell me, Big Q, would I– would I be here if Dream was here?”
Quackity released a strained breath. “No,” he admitted slowly. “You’d be on the other side of the server.”
“Yeah, y– exactly.” Tommy nodded and kept going. Techno shot him a thankful glance before returning his cold, hard stare to Sam and Quackity. “I trust Techno. I trust Techno to keep me safe. He takes care of me, like a– like a– like a big brother, except he’s not.”
Quackity nodded, then he reached out a hand and Tommy took it. He shook it hard once, then released his grip. “Well Tommy, I’ll trust you. If Dream isn’t here, then I’ll take your word for it. And if you see him at all, you just run to me, run to Sam, and we’ll put him right back where he belongs. Okay?”
Tommy nodded, exhaling the same, familiar way he always did. “Yeah, I will.”
“We’ll be going now,” Sam announced, his eyes scanning first Tommy, then Techno. “Thanks for your… help.”
“Anytime,” Techno said dryly, watching the Warden turn and make his way down the steps, Quackity close behind him. Tommy joined him in the doorway and watched the pair go, tracking them until they were out of earshot. Once they were, Techno went back in the house and Tommy followed, closing the door behind him firmly.
“Thank you, Tommy,” Techno said, crouching down and opening the box Dream sat in. The man flinched away, his nails digging into the side of the box as he sat at a diagonal to allow for the split on his leg. “Hey Dream, they're gone. It’s safe; you can come out now.”
Dream shook his head and pressed further back, shaking his head, his mouth moving in silent pleas.
“Dre–” Techno sighed and kneeled, placing his hands palm up on his legs. “Okay. You’re okay. I’m right here, but you don’t have to come to me yet if you don’t want to. You can do whatever you want. Just… take your time.”
Slowly, Tommy joined him on the floor, putting his hands under himself and sitting on them nervously as he listened to Dream hyperventilate. He remembered these aftermaths, where he would sit and shiver in the box, his breathing too fast to be healthy, yet he was unable to do anything to slow it. He remembered looking out of the corner of his eye at Technoblade as he did the same thing, kneeling and waiting patiently. He remembered the way colour seemed to bleed back into the world as he came back to reality.
An experience Dream couldn’t have with the blindfold over his eyes. Tommy steeled himself. He needed to get the piece of fabric off Dream, and he couldn’t do it when he was panicking in a wooden box.
“Hey Dream,” he started, his heart thudding and jumping in his chest as an idea formed in his head. “Me and Techno are right here, okay? We’re right here, and we’re not going anywhere.
“Techno, he’s– he to your right and slightly in front of you. He’s kneeling with his hands palm up on his knees, except he’s kneeling weird cuz his legs are weird and he walks on his toes.” Techno glared at him for a second, then returned his gaze to Dream. “He’s got a red cloak, and it’s super long, and it’s kinda pooling on the floor behind him. It’s a bright red and it’s got this piece of white fur sewn across the top.
“He’s wearing an off-white linen shirt. It’s loose and the top’s open in a v-neck. His hair is super long and a faded pink, and he’s got it in a messy braid that sort of falls over one shoulder and into his lap. And his face– his face is kind.” Tommy shifted slightly to get a better look at Techno’s face. “His eyes are red, but they’re such a dark red they’re almost black. He’s– he’s got a little wrinkle in between his eyebrows because he’s concerned, and he’s concerned because he loves you, Dream.
“He loves you, and because of that, he’s gonna sit and he’s gonna wait. However long it takes, he’s gonna wait for you to come to him, because it’s you who’s gotta make that decision. He’s not gonna force you.”
Tommy took a shaky breath, observing Dream’s reaction. He appeared to be listening, although he was still pressed against the back wall of the box. He took a deep breath and waited for Dream to move or respond. When he didn’t, he continued talking.
“And then– and then there’s me. I’m kneeling right next to Techno, and I’m not kneeling weird cuz my legs are normal legs.” He shifted and put his hands on his knees, copying his companion. “I’m doing the same thing with my hands: I’ve got them on my knees, palms up. I’m– I’m wearing blue jeans, but the knees are faded, and they’re a bit beat up cuz I’m always running around everywhere. There’s a small tear in my left knee where a branch snagged me while I was playing tag with Tubbo earlier.
“I’m wearing a white t-shirt and the sleeves are red, like they always are. My hair– it’s like, uhm, dandelion yellow, and it’s super messy. You– you know what my hair’s like; how it never lays straight.” He ran a hand through his hair and ruffled it around, then returned to his previous position. “And my eyes are blue. They’re not like lapis, or a lot like cornflowers, but they’re blue. You know, blue. Like the sky, Tubbo says.”
The blond fell silent again, watching Dream move his lips as if he wanted to say something. He moved slowly off the wall and reached out, wetting his lips, and then he finally spoke.
“Tommy?” His voice cracked and broke over the syllables of his name as he searched blindly, fumbling through the air with his hands. Techno gave Tommy another look and gestured toward Dream. Time seemed to stop as Tommy realised what Dream wanted, then he moved forward, capturing Dream's hands in his and helping him crawl out of the box. Dream’s voice shook as he said his next piece.
“Would it change anything if I said I was sorry?”
Tommy hesitated, his heart stopping, then starting again with a jolt. He remembered everything from exile and before: the conflict, the threats, the peaceful times. And then he came back to the man on the floor beside him, clinging hopefully to his hands, no matter how much his brain must be screaming at him to get away , because Tommy knew how much trusting someone could hurt.
“Yeah. Yes,” he finally said, and Dream cracked the smallest smile. Tommy surged forward and wrapped his arms around Dream tightly, feeling his ribs through the bandages. “I forgive you, Dream. I forgive you.”
Because no one should have to be trapped in the confines of a wooden box as their tormentor stood outside asking where they were. Tommy may have hated Dream, but he knew too well the damage, and maybe, just maybe, the prison had been enough. No one should need to hide away like that, and no one should do it blind.
“Dream, I’m gonna take the blindfold off, okay? You gotta see.” Tommy’s fingers fumbled with the knot on the back of Dream's head.
“Tommy–” Techno said, reaching out a hand in warning, but the cloth was already falling away, fluttering down into Dream’s lap where he still sat on the floor. Every muscle in his body was tense as he gripped the fabric of his pants, balling the material tightly within his white-knuckled fists.
Tommy stared at his empty eye sockets as the new horror dawned upon him. He stared at the dark contours where pink, new, healing skin formed over bone. He looked at the notches and scars left by a maleficent knife, wielded to dig into flesh and organ and pry it free. He saw the telltale marks of a regeneration potion, a series of patches of skin that was better along than others.
He belatedly realised that Dream was spiralling again; Tommy could almost see the agonising thoughts swirling around his head. Dream pulled away, his hands going to his face and his fingers hovering over his empty sockets. Tommy hurriedly grabbed the blindfold and helped Dream put it back in place, some of the tension going out of Dream’s shoulders as his weakness was hidden yet again.
Tommy felt tears pricking at his eyes as he gripped Dream’s shoulders, eyes taking in the scars and healing scabs that decorated Dream where he wasn't covered with bandages. He saw jagged patterns that formed letters, those letters forming words, and those words forming abusive, laden permanent markings that still bled hatred. Monster. Control-freak. Tormentor. Bastard. Demon. Bitch. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.
Tommy buried his face in Dream’s chest, a sob escaping him. He felt the white strips of bandage beneath his forehead as he shook, tears dropping into Dream’s lap. He felt Dream tentatively put his arms around him and rest his head on his back, silently offering a semblance of uncertain comfort.
“I’m so sorry, Dream,” Tommy sobbed. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
He felt Dream shrug minutely. “I deserved it,” he mumbled, and Tommy cried harder. Because yes , but no , he didn’t deserve it. Tommy understood the motives of the prison – or, what they were supposed to be – and he couldn’t reconcile those thoughts with this broken man holding him in a broken embrace.
Technoblade rested a tender hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “This is really touching, but I need to change his bandages now.” Techno’s voice was firm, but kind, and Tommy looked up to see eyes full of thanks and brimming with unexpected tears. “Can you get a stew going with the sheep downstairs?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I can do that,” Tommy replied, pulling away. Techno approached Dream slowly and assisted him to the bed of blankets and pillows he’d retrieved from the basement and arranged.
Tommy slid down the ladder and began the bloody work of skinning and cutting apart the sheep. He lit a furnace with coal he found in a chest and began rooting around for seasoning, finding a large pot and setting it on top of the furnace like a stovetop. Cutting the meat into small pieces, he threw them into the pot, along with water from the bucket in his inventory. He threw herbs and leaves into the cooking broth, and began hunting for salt.
“Hey Techno,” he said, poking his head up through the hole in the floor. “Where’s the–” He stopped, confronted with Dream’s unbandaged torso. Techno was gently applying a thickened health potion to the compact and conflicting lines of sutures and scars that covered Dream's back. His eyes followed the lines of torn and put back together tissue and landed on the large brand burned into his left shoulder blade. His stomach flipped and churned as he averted his eyes from the sickeningly familiar square and offset smile, staring at the planks that made up the floor.
“Where’s the what?” Technoblade responded, not taking his eyes off his task. Dream flinched as he brushed a particularly tender spot, and the piglin hybrid muttered an apology before raising his voice to address Tommy again. “You’re making this very awkward.”
“I– uhm– sorry,” Tommy stammered. “Where’s the salt, Techno? I can’t find it.”
“Bottom left chest. It’s in there somewhere.”
“Right. Thanks, Technoblade.”
Tommy descended the ladder and retrieved the salt, adding a generous amount to the broth. He stirred the mixture, then sank down to the ground and leaned back against the crafting table, letting out a sigh as he listened to the stew simmer. He wrestled with his thoughts, reflecting on the way Dream had clung to him.
He hated it. He hated the way his heart generated sympathy for a man he previously thought was a monstrous manipulator. A puppet master who held all the strings. And now he was a puppet with his strings cut, a broken shadow shivering and panicking at unfamiliar sounds; a plaything for a man Tommy had always thought was his friend. He wasn’t sure how to feel anymore.
Techno came down the ladder and rinsed off his hands. He silently collected a bowl and ladled some of the stew into it. He added cool water from a bottle in his inventory and diluted it, then climbed the ladder again with practiced ease. Tommy sighed again, then stood and helped himself to the stew. He settled back on the floor and began to eat, his mind still spinning.
The ease and simplicity with which Techno cared for Dream was inspiring, in a way. Tommy ate, and he thought, and he resolved.
He resolved to heal. Himself and Dream.
===
The sun’s gentle late morning warmth shone down on them as they walked along the Prime Path. Tommy stood on Dream’s right, on the opposite side of his splinted and weak leg, and assisted him as he limped on the worn and beaten oak planks. He held onto Dream’s right forearm firmly with his right hand, and his left arm encircled Dream's waist, holding onto the back of his sweatshirt.
A light breeze moved through the area and ruffled their hair, gently playing with the ends of the lime green fabric that encircled Dream's head. Tommy had described the fabric to him as he dyed it, steadily lightening the green to match the green of one of Dream's sweatshirts Techno had somehow managed to find.
The piglin hybrid had mentioned Niki when he returned from his excursion, having left Tommy and Dream at his house for the day. He’d spent the rest of the afternoon and evening in his attic as Tommy and Dream had sat outside, the younger describing the scenery and tundra life to the blind man.
Now, they were walking down the Prime Path to where Pandora’s Vault loomed in the distance. Dream had fallen into a panic attack at the mention of the prison, but Techno had helped him out of it, saying cryptically that he had a surprise that would permanently cripple the atrocious operation. He’d left with a bag slung over his shoulder and ridden away on Carl, leaving Tommy to saddle the other horse, help Dream climb on, and ride to the main body of the SMP with Dream holding on behind him.
Tommy kept up a steady stream of description as they travelled and Dream listened intently, nodding along with his words. He occasionally spoke up and asked for a more thorough description of some of the builds, nostalgia causing his soft voice to shake. Tommy always obliged, stopping so they could look at the house or monument and appreciate it.
“Tommy Innit,” a voice said from behind them. Tommy stopped his description of the surroundings and helped Dream turn around slowly.
“Quackity,” Tommy said coldly. He heard Dream’s breath catch in his throat as the blind man reached over with his free hand and grabbed Tommy's forearm for reassurance. Tommy squeezed his arm gently as he examined the trio composed of Quackity, Sapnap, and Karl, looking at the way Sapnap's enchanted netherite armour shone in the sun and his hand rested on the hilt of his sword. His face was set in an inscrutable frown, but he didn’t move, electing instead to watch the interaction. Karl looked confused.
“Tommy, we had a deal,” Quackity said smoothly, taking a step toward them. “If you found Dream, you’d come to Sam or me, and we’d put him back in the prison, remember?”
“That was before I found out you fucking tortured him, Quackity,” Tommy spat, moving to stand protectively in front of Dream, still supporting him.
“He’s manipulating you, Tommy, like he manipulated everyone else. You’re letting him use your emotions against you. Again.”
“I don’t think I am,” Tommy responded angrily. “You sick bastard, you–”
Dream’s grip tightened on his forearm. “Tommy, I need to sit down,” he mumbled. Tommy heard the tremble in his voice and responded immediately, lowering him swiftly and smoothly to sit on the step of the Prime Path. He put his hand on Dream’s shoulder, and Dream brought his hand up and placed it over Tommy’s, his entire body tense.
Tommy rose from his crouch and stood in front of Dream, pulling his sword out of his inventory and holding it at his side. Sapnap reacted by settling into a fighting stance, prepared to draw his sword in a heartbeat. Tommy swallowed nervously: he was armourless and alone, and Sapnap was a formidable warrior. It was an oversight to not wear armour, but Dream liked being able to feel his presence without the metal plating in the way, and Tommy was set on ensuring the trip to the main part of the SMP was fast and comfortable for him.
Leave it up to Quackity to show up at the wrong time. Techno likely wouldn’t meet them for some time, and the prison was right there , meaning it would take little effort to drag Dream back to obsidian-enclosed and lava-drowned hell.
“You sick bastard,” Tommy began again. “You tortured him. Every day without fail. He wakes up screaming every night with the memories, and he’s silent the moment he’s aware – something you ingrained in him. It takes me and Techno ages to reach him and–”
“I knew Technoblade was involved,” Quackity exclaimed sharply. “He’s manipulating you, Tommy. Don’t you see? It’s just like before, when you were exiled, and he came every day to burn your stuff, every day to make you feel alone, every day to isolate you. He twisted your mind, Tommy.”
“Well maybe I have a heart,” Tommy snapped. “Maybe I remember waking up in tears. Maybe I remember being forced to start over. Maybe I remember hiding in a box while the man I was hiding from walked around outside. I understand where he’s coming from, Quackity, and I hate it. I hated being like that. No one should be like that. Not even Dream.”
“He was a monster to you, Tommy,” Quackity said softly, almost compassionately, and Tommy hated him. He hated how he wanted to go back to the way he used to be. But he’d made a promise to Dream, one night when the two of them were awake, and Techno was over at Phil’s talking about discoveries the Angel of Death had made on his journey. He’d promised that the cycle of abuse would end there, and that they’d heal together, and that Dream would never go back to the bloodstained cell he described in broken English.
“Yeah, he was ,” Tommy admitted furiously, “but he’s changed now. What you did in there broke him, and he hates to admit that. He’s different. He’s changed. And I promised him, Quackity. I promised that he would never go back and that we’d heal together. And I don’t break my promises.”
He glanced behind him and saw that Dream was disassociated entirely, his gaze locked on the air beside the intruding trio and his arms wrapped protectively around his middle. He wore a slight frown, but he had no other reaction to the conversation happening in front of him. It was likely that he’d been gone for a while.
Anger boiled over inside of him and he stepped toward Quackity, watching Sapnap out of the corner of his eye. “You know what, you prick? How about you go in there, and you live in the Vault, and you suffer every blade, every brand, every blow, and then you tell me how it went. Then you can talk to me about manipulation and pain and suffering, and we’ll finally be on level ground.”
“You think I don’t know?” Quackity’s composure finally broke. “I waged political wars, held countries together with my bare hands, and was forced to live without one eye. You think–”
“Well, you took both of his!” Tommy exploded, sweeping forward and pressing his sword against Quackity’s neck. “I should kill you right now,” he growled. “I should kill you right now so Dream doesn’t have to listen to this. I should cut your fucking head off and find where you spawn, and fucking kill you again on sight.”
“Tommy,” Sapnap said warningly, his sword half out of his scabbard.
“Oh, get your head out of your arse, Sapnap,” Tommy shouted. “Why don’t you step up and be a good friend again, or just get the fuck out of here. You too, Karl.”
“Tommy, I don’t think you understand,” Sapnap began.
Tommy shoved Quackity to the ground. “Yeah? That’s bullshit, Bitchnap. Absolute bullshit. Why don’t you forget about your promise – the promise you made to fucking murder him – and listen to what’s happening right in front of you?!”
Sapnap eyed him coldly. “What’s happening right in front of me is a fucking child threatening my fiance.”
“And what about your best friend, huh?” Tommy jabbed a finger at the armoured man’s chest. “Does that fucking mean nothing?”
Sapnap was silent as he stepped away, staring at the ground. Karl had already left. “The prison was what was best for him,” he finally said. He examined Dream and how he seemed to be semi-attached to reality, blindfolded eyes focused on the patch of air slightly to their left.
“Emphasis on ‘was’,” Tommy muttered bitterly. He kicked Quackity and stared him down, forcing him to stay on the ground. Sapnap turned and approached Dream slowly, his armour clinking softly.
“Dream?” he called, crouching, and Dream turned to face him slowly, fixating on his shoulder. “Hey, right here. Look at me.”
Dream furrowed his brow and did nothing else, apparently content with how much he was “looking” at Sapnap. Tommy saw his chest rising and falling as he fought to manually control his breathing and avoid breaking down in front of the enemy.
Sapnap sighed. “The bandana is a fashion statement,” he mumbled, then he reached out and put a hand on Dream’s shoulder almost tenderly. “Can I take it off? I need you to look at me. I’m worried this is blocking your sight like the mask was.”
Dream shrugged, and Tommy looked away as Sapnap reached behind his head to untie the knot. He didn’t need to see the gaping, scarred holes again. He heard Sapnap’s sharp breath, followed by rushing, whispered apologies. Tommy turned back to see that he’d replaced the blindfold and removed his helmet, pressing his forehead to Dream’s. He cradled the back of Dream’s head as Dream’s shoulders shook and his arms wrapped around him, sleeves falling back to reveal scarred and healed arms.
“Hey Quackity,” Technoblade drawled as he arrived, holding a button in one hand. Tommy smirked at how panicked the man beneath him suddenly was. Techno drew his sword and rested the flat of the blade on his shoulder, tilting his head to one side. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I knew it. I fucking knew it,” Quackity hissed, scrambling away.
Techno eyed him distastefully, then shrugged, saying, “I’m not here for you.” He turned away and approached Dream, tapping his foot against the planks in the pattern Tommy knew meant: ‘Techno is here’. He nudged Sapnap aside and took Dream’s hands in his, setting the button gingerly in a pouch on his sword belt.
“Hey Dream,” he whispered, and the man went limp in his hold, pressing into his chest with full trust and helplessness. He chuckled lightly and rubbed small circles with his thumbs into the back of Dream’s hands. “You know the prison, Dream? I’m gonna blow the thing sky-high.”
Dream tightened and shook his head, muttering about security and obsidian, and saying that no, it was a terrible thing to do, and Sir and the Warden would be angry. Tommy almost ran his sword straight through Quackity’s chest when the name “Sir” came up, stopped only by Sapnap’s livid expression.
“Did you do this?” he asked calmly as rage simmered underneath. Tommy moved away so Sapnap could confront his fiance, standing by Techno as he comforted Dream. “Are you the reason he’s like this?”
Quackity stood and dusted himself off. “We all agreed he deserved it,” he said bitterly. “You were there.”
“We agreed to lock him up ,” Sapnap said angrily, putting his helmet back on his head. “None of us consented to –” He gestured to Dream – “ this .”
“But don’t you want the Revival Book?” Quackity whined, and Tommy saw Sapnap’s face contort into multiple emotions before settling into a grim frown. “Think about it: being able to bring people back. Like a god! Don’t you want that power, Sapnap?”
Sapnap scowled and drew his sword. “I wouldn’t have gone that fucking far, Quackity ,” he snarled, taking a step forward. “You have thirty seconds. Thirty seconds to run. After that, I’m coming after you, and I’m gonna kill you. It’s Minecraft Manhunt all over again, but there’s no way to win this one.”
Tommy watched Quackity flounder for words, his mouth moving silently as he tried to argue with his fiance – ex-fiance, by the looks of things.
“Twenty seconds.” Sapnap spun his blade in his hand for emphasis, and Quackity ran. Sap turned to Tommy with a downcast look. He set the point of his sword on the ground and leaned against it, saying, “Look, we’re not on the greatest of terms. We’ve all fucked up.”
“Yeah,” Tommy confirmed, crossing his arms. Behind him, Techno slowly helped Dream stand, speaking soft reassurances about how yes , the prison would be destroyed by today.
“I’d like to come visit, after I deal with that bitch.” Sapnap jerked a thumb in the direction Quackity had run off in. “Not if he doesn’t want me to. But I’d like to talk, if he’ll let me. I– I’d like to fix things.”
“I dunno, Bitchnap, you promised to murder him.”
Sapnap cringed, watching the way Techno and Dream were standing side by side, looking over the prison. Techno gestured like he was describing something. “That’s why I’ll let him decide if he wants me,” he said finally. He resheathed his sword and nodded, then turned and sprinted after Quackity, locking into the metal mindset of the Manhunt Team.
Tommy waved briefly, then ran to join Dream and Techno where they stood, overlooking the prison. He snapped his fingers to avoid disrupting Techno’s descriptions of the area, and Dream reached for him immediately, trembling, scarred fingers wrapping around his wrist. Technoblade acknowledged his presence with a nod, then took out the button from its pouch. He helped transfer Dream’s support to Tommy, then connected it to a remote he retrieved from the same pouch.
“Cover your ears,” he said with a broad smile, and he pressed the button, causing a series of explosions to rock the land. The thunderous roar of explosions filled the air and washed over them, and the three of them covered their ears briefly.
“A massive mushroom cloud just fucking shot up from the prison!” Tommy exclaimed over the noise as a gust of wind swept outward. He steadied himself and Dream, then continued his description. “I can see some of the TNT popping up behind and on the walls, flashing white before it explodes. It looks like it’s glowing purple, as well, like Techno– Techno, you enchanted TNT?!”
The piglin hybrid grinned and wrapped his arms around his companions’ shoulders. “Small trick I picked up from Phil. Keep describing, Tommy.”
And Tommy did, reporting the colour of the cloud as it continued to stretch upwards, describing the way the air seemed to spin and swirl the smoke as the obsidian was violently torn apart. He described the way the trees and grasses bent their heads to make way for the wind. He told Dream about the way Techno’s cape seemed to fly in the wake of the explosions and how cool his hair and bandana looked, blowing in the wind like that.
Finally, when it died down, he described the crater that was gradually filling with water from the surrounding ocean. He described the crumbling walls and how it seemed like everything had vapourised, even the lava. He watched the smile creep onto Dream’s face and felt his own growing in return as they went back to where they’d left the horses – Techno had apparently moved Carl before meeting with them – and mounted up to ride home.
When Philza joined them at the houses, they were still smiling. The Angel of Death took Dream’s hands and placed them on his face, allowing him to feel the contours of his jaw, brows, and cheeks, and invited Tommy and Techno to do the same, saying it was something one of the blind souls he had guided to the afterlife said to try. Tommy witnessed the pieces clicking together in Dream’s mind as he reconstructed images of their faces.
Philza pulled him aside as Techno went to help Dream change his remaining bandages, many of the wounds fully healed or nearly there.
“How are you doing, mate?” he asked, leaning against the balcony of the short bridge connecting his and Techno’s houses.
Tommy thought for a moment. “I'm doing well,” he said finally. “Not perfect, but I'm doing well.”
“Good. That’s good,” Phil said with a nod, looking off at where the sun was sinking below the horizon. He stretched his wings behind him, bringing one to curl around Tommy’s shoulders protectively. “You’re helping him more than you know, you know that?”
Tommy shrugged, absentmindedly running a hand over Phil’s long, black feathers. “I think I’m mostly helping me,” he admitted, turning briefly to look at Phil as he gazed at the sunset. It was simple, yet beautiful in its own right. “Is that selfish?”
Philza shook his head, smiling softly. “No, no it’s not, Tommy.”