Chapter Text
It happens in a flash, Tommy doesn't know what is happening. All he knows is pain as he is being beaten against the obsidian wall. His head bangs against the rough, cold stone as the masked man repeatedly hits him, over and, over, and over again. Each blow feels like a hammer against his skull, echoing through his body worse than the last. He aches from the punches he's receiving, each one a searing reminder of his defiance. He can't move, his limbs are heavy and useless, and it hurts to breathe, each inhale a sharp, stabbing pain. He wants it to be over, for the agony to stop. He knew he shouldn't have provoked Dream but he couldn't help himself, the words spilling from his lips before he could stop them.
Dream scruffs the back of his shirt, his porcelain mask cracked to show a deranged smile on his face. The sight of it, usually terrifying, feels almost funny to Tommy. He feels something wet on his face, a strange warmth that spreads across his cheek. He didn’t realize how cold he was until his skin had made contact with the lava in this small cell. He knows he should be worried, panicking even, but he can't bring himself to care much. His body is numb, the pain a dull ache that fades into the background. He feels tears stream down his face, but he’s so tired and cold, and Dream would really be doing him a favor if he’d just throw him in the lava.
He blearily opens his eyes, the world blurring around him. He sees Dream's silhouette, a dark figure against the backlight of the lava. He hears the man's voice, a low rumble that seems to come from the very depths of hell itself. "Finally," Dream says, a cruel satisfaction in his tone. "You're finally going to be quiet."
Tommy wants to scream, to fight back, but his voice is gone, swallowed by the exhaustion that weighs him down. He hates to meet his end by the hands of his abuser, but he can’t help but smile as he finally gets to rest. His last, final life taken, swallowed by the fiery embrace of the lava.
When Tommy 'wakes up', it is to nothing. It is a dark void, an empty expanse with nothing but himself and his thoughts. No walls, no floor, no ceiling, just a boundless black that stretches out in every direction. It's almost unnerving, this absence of everything, yet strangely calming. It's like being swallowed by a peaceful silence, a stark contrast to the chaos and pain of his last moments.
He tries to reach out, to touch something, anything, but his hand passes through nothing. He's adrift, a speck in the vast emptiness of his limbo. He feels strangely weightless, his body a wisp of smoke in this inky black. It's almost relaxing, this emptiness. He wishes to stay here, to drift forever in this void, free from the torment of his past.
But then, a flicker of light, a faint whisper in the silence, breaks the stillness. A voice, barely audible, calls out to him. It's a voice that he knows all too well, a voice that sends shivers down his spine. " Tommy ," it says, a hint of amusement in its tone. "It’s time to wake up."
Tommy jolts up, his body a tangle of limbs and buzzing nerves. Everything is too much, his senses maxed up to their highest setting. The world is a cacophony of light and sound, a jarring assault on his senses. The texture of the obsidian against his hands is too rough, the heat of the lava too intense, and the air itself feels heavy and suffocating. It all hurts, a throbbing ache that starts in his head and spreads through his entire body. He wants—no, needs —to go back to the void. The emptiness, the silence, anything to escape this overload.
He looks up and sees that Dream has crouched down to face him, his porcelain mask still cracked, revealing the same wicked smile Tommy saw before he died. There is nowhere for Tommy to go, trapped in this small cell, the obsidian walls closing in on him. His tongue is too big for his mouth, his throat a dry desert. He can’t speak, the words caught in a tangle of fear and confusion.
“So? What was it like?” Dream asks, his voice a low, melodic purr. He's looking at Tommy with a slightly amused head tilt, his eyes gleaming with a strange, unsettling curiosity pinning Tommy down.
Tommy can only stare back, his mind reeling. Why am I here ? He thought he was gone, finally free from Dream's clutches.
“Tommy?” Dream's morbidly curious voice starts again, his name sounding tauntingly musical coming from Dream, “—What did death feel like?”
The question hangs in the air, heavy with a cruel kind of fascination. Tommy feels his heart hammering against his ribs, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He wants to scream, to lash out, but his body is frozen, paralyzed by fear.
“—I was worried the book wouldn’t work…” Dream continues, his voice a chilling whisper.
Tommy’s eyes focus on the cracks and texture of the ground, his gaze seeking refuge in the familiar, the mundane. He is nothing but a small, shivering mass, as Dream crawls closer to him like he hasn’t forced Tommy back to the world of the living. Tommy swears he can hear Dream’s smile in the man’s voice, a cruel, mocking sound that grates on his nerves. He wants everything to be quiet, to escape the oppressive weight of Dream's presence.
Dream's questions keep coming, each one a sharp, painful jab at Tommy's already fragile state.
“How did it feel when you died?”
why
“Did it feel good?”
Why?
“Did you see schlatt?? Or did you see that poor excuse of a brother?”
Why am I still here!?
“I gave you some time, I was hoping you would answer some more questions… ''
Tommy can hear Dream’s tone becoming more impatient, more demanding. He almost wishes he were back in the void. There’s too much stimulus, too much white noise from the crying obsidian and sizzling from the lava. He's trapped in a sensory nightmare, his mind struggling to make sense of it all.
"I was dead," Tommy spits out, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. Because he was. He tries to look up at Dream, his abuser, his murderer, but he can't bring himself to do so. Instead, when he looks up, he flinches back and cowers even more. Tommy isn't one to admit his feelings, but the boy is terrified of the monster that stands before him.
Dream laughs, a harsh, grating sound that echoes in the small cell. He has a crazed look in his eyes, his smile stretched wide, almost painful to look at. "I know!! Isn't that just amazing!" he croons out, his voice dripping with a chilling kind of glee as he crawls over to Tommy. He grabs the boy's chin, forcing him to look at him. Tommy tries to flinch away, but Dream's burning touch forcibly keeps his head in place, forcing eye contact. "I'm a god , Tommy."
The words hang in the air, heavy with a chilling arrogance. Tommy feels a cold dread creep up his spine. He's completely deranged.
Dream tightens his hold on Tommy, and the younger boy cries out, a choked sob escaping his lips. The older man stands up and scruffs him again, his touch rough and unforgiving, like the obsidian walls that surround them. It’s a repeat of last time, Tommy realizes.
"The next time you come back, you better come back more willing to share," is all Tommy hears before he's consumed by the heat once more, the searing flames engulfing him, and he's met with darkness.
--
When Tommy wakes up, his eyes flutter open to a world bathed in a soft, warm light. He's lying in a bed, a bed that's soft and plush, unlike anything he's ever experienced before. It's so unlike the obsidian cell, so unlike the harsh, unforgiving world he's become accustomed and grew up in. In fact, he's sure he should be dead. He should be back in the void, the limbo his mother had made specifically for him, a place of emptiness and silence.
Instead, he's enveloped in a strange, comforting warmth. The feeling of the mattress and the covers are too much, a mix of something he's never felt before and the soreness of the skin that comes from revival. It sends him into a spiral as his mind races to make sense of what is going on. He's alive, but how ? And where is he?
The bed is bigger and softer than anything he's ever laid in before. The sheets are a luxurious silk, cool against his skin. It's a stark contrast to the rough obsidian of his prison, a stark contrast to the cold, hard reality of the wars he’s been through. He looks around the room, his eyes taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. The walls are a soft, calming shade of purple, the windows draped with thick, velvet curtains. The air is filled with the scent of lavender, a scent that's both calming and unsettling. It's a world so different from the one he knows, a world that feels both welcoming and alien.
Tommy's mind is a whirlwind of confusion. Am I alive? Did dream revive me? Is this a new limbo? He tries to remember the last moments before he was consumed by the flames, but his memories are hazy, fragmented. All he can recall is Dream's voice, his chilling laughter, and the searing heat that engulfed him.
He reaches out, his hand trembling as it touches the soft, silken sheets. It feels so unreal, so foreign. He's alive, but he feels like he's in a dream, a dream that's both beautiful and terrifying.
Suddenly, the door to the room swings open. Instinctively, he tries to grab a sword from his inventory, only to remember that he was forced to empty it before entering that god forsaken prison. Instead, he readies his fists, prepared to jump out of the bed and assault the intruder that enters the room. What he doesn’t expect is to see his mother, The Goddess of Death, enter along with two other figures that follow her. A tall imposing man with horns protruding from his bald head, with glasses and a handlebar mustache, and a well dressed cat person.
Oh hell no… not a furry…
Tommy's heart races as he processes the scene before him. His mother, the embodiment of death, stands there with an air of authority, while the other two figures seem equally out of place in this surreal moment.
“Tommy,” she says, her voice soothing and soft, “you’re safe now.” The cat person leans in, a curious glint in their eyes, while the bald man adjusts his glasses, looking at Tommy with a mix of concern and intrigue. Tommy tries to ignore the other two figures, instead choosing to gulp and nod his head.
He wishes to trust his mother, but he can’t help but blame her for what he had to go through. His mind flashes back to the disks, the control room, L’manburg, both exiles, doomsday and the prison. He knows he shouldn’t blame her, but he can’t help himself. Instead he bites his tongue and clenches his fist. He knows better than to anger a god.
His mother sees this and she frowns. She shakes her head and tries to give him a shaky smile, though the smile doesn't reach her eyes. Instead they look dull, and red as if she was crying earlier. She clears her throat and continues.
“I'm sorry,” oh.. Tommy didn't expect that. He looks at her, he really looks at her and searches for something. He finds it in the way her shoulders slump, the way her lips tremble, the way her eyes are filled with a pain he knows all too well. He nods and she continues.
“I'm sorry I wasn’t there for you, my sweet star child,” she walks up to the bed and sits beside him. The two other figures instead chose to stay in their place. “I'm sorry I wasn't able to take you away from that horrible place until it was too late…” her voice warbles and she brings her youngest to closer to her and hugs him.
Philza, her husband, had his favorites and she had hers. She always favored her little star child and it always brought her pain to watch him suffer from afar. She couldn’t do much, as there were rules in place for gods like her, but watching her son die and then forcibly be brought back broke something in her. It broke her heart.
She pulls back from the hug, her face etched with sorrow. "I know you're angry, Tommy," she says, her voice soft and understanding. "And you have every right to be. I failed you. I wasn't strong enough to protect you."
Tommy looks at her, his heart heavy with a mixture of anger and sorrow. He knows she's right. She wasn't strong enough. But she's here now, and she's trying to make things right, and yet he can’t bring himself to say anything. Instead he stares at her with a tired expression on his face. His mother’s frown deepens, and the figure with the glasses finally speaks up.
“Kristen dearie, I hate to be bothersome but,” he walks up to the bed and Tommy can’t help himself but hide into his mother's side. He can be childish just this once he thinks. “OHHH I just can't wait to have another grandson!!”
Pause, what? Kristin laughs and dries her eyes at the other. She looks back at her son and gives him a sad smile.
“Tommy, I haven't told you the full truth as of yet but,” she puts a protective arm around him and sighs, “I can’t stay… So instead, I am having a dear friend of mine take care of you. You will be under his care… he’ll be able to protect you the way I couldn't.” Her voice breaks off in the end and Tommy can’t help but to feel anger course through him.
Of course. Because no one wanted someone as broken as him.
The mustached figure introduces himself as Sullivan and begins to blubber about how he is so happy that his “ daughter ” finally introduced him to his grandson and keeps going on and on about another one but Tommy drowns him out. He is filled with immense anger and sorrow. He feels abandoned, like a broken toy discarded by his mother. He feels like a burden, a responsibility no one wants to shoulder.
"I don't want this," Tommy mutters, his voice barely a whisper. "I just want to be left alone."
He pulls away from his mother, his eyes filled with a deep, aching sadness. He knows he can't fight her, can't defy her. She is a god, after all. But he can't help but feel a surge of resentment towards her, towards Sullivan, and towards the silent redheaded cat-person in the corner of the room.
Sullivan, oblivious to Tommy's silent rage, continues to gush about how excited he is to have a "grandson." Tommy can't help but feel a surge of anger towards him. He doesn't want a grandfather, he doesn't need him. Tommy doesn't want anyone and he’s never needed anyone either. He just wants to be left alone.
He looks at his mother, her face etched with sorrow and regret. He sees the pain in her eyes, the pain of a mother who has failed her child. He knows she loves him, but he can't help but feel a deep sense of betrayal. He wants to scream, to lash out, to let her know how much he hurts. But he can't. He's too tired, too broken .
He closes his eyes, his body trembling with a mixture of anger and despair. He feels like he's falling, falling into a bottomless pit of sorrow. He feels like he's losing himself, losing his identity, losing everything .
Tommy feels the weight from his bed lift and hears footsteps and the door closes. He is alone, yet he isn’t satisfied.
He’s alone like he always is.