Chapter Text
Tommy went North.
He walked for days, and slept for twice as many, attempting to heal his shattered body without any potions on hand. Or anything, really. He left without further thought the moment a gun was pointed at his face for the hundredth time and instead of flinching he only thought, Get it over with.
He was traumatized, not stupid. Killing himself wouldn’t do anything. There weren’t even enough people who would miss him—he could count on one hand who would actually give a shit.
He desperately, desperately hoped that he would be able to keep one on the list. Which is why he was headed North.
To Technoblade.
The walk was long, and cold, and tiring. He ran out of food halfway, and his mouth was numb from the snow he’d begun to shovel into his mouth when he ran out of water. It probably wasn’t healthy, but who gave a shit? Not Tommy. His entire left leg switched between buzzing painfully and being numb completely. Also probably not healthy.
If Techno was going to turn him away, Tommy hoped he at least got a regen potion sent along with him.
At last, when time had begun to blur and Tommy wasn’t sure whether it had been days or weeks since he began walking, the thick smoke of a chimney appeared in the distance.
“Technoblade’s home,” he whispered through chattering teeth. A gentle plume of fog puffed through his lips when he spoke, settling carefully in the silent icy air. Snow crunched under his feet and the weighed-down branches passed above him like the arches of the first Church Prime.
Ah. Yes. He sent a quick prayer up to the clouded skies. Prime lend me strength and hope, and Technoblade kindness and patience. Let me not die, please. That’d be great.
The fence on the edge of Techno’s property was within arm’s reach and he navigated along the fortified wood and stone border, all the way down to the gate. He pushed it open, and the bell rang dully, wobbling echoes quickly silenced against the snow.
The path from the gate to the front porch of Techno’s cabin was wet and well-worn, with assorted hoof and paw prints and the footprints of combat boots. Tommy followed the steps absentmindedly, hopping from print to print like a little child.
There. The porch, the door. It seemed huge and looming, the entrance to a temple for a god he was begging for forgiveness from. Prime lend me strength. Prime lend me mercy.
His knock on the door was an offering. A sacrifice. Accept me, he thought, every pain nerve he’d suppressed flaring to agonizing life as the door slowly, slowly, opened.
“Tommy?”
He looks exactly the same, Tommy thought faintly. Same thick pink hair, tied up in some stupidly elaborate hairstyle he definitely never had enough time to do. Same netherite armor, on at all times. Same leather straps along his forearms and shins, sheathes of daggers and swords and the Axe of Peace. Same golden accessories on flicking piglin ears and flared nostrils and calloused fingers.
Same face, same eyes, but different now, wide in disbelief.
“Hey Techno,” Tommy offered weakly.
Techno’s expression twitched and the brief, raw emotion disappeared. His face closed like a shutter. “Tommy.” Not a question, this time. A demand.
“I—I need help,” Tommy said quietly.
A great sigh. “Again?”
“It’s different,” Tommy tried to say. “I’m done, Techno, I’m done. I’m never going back.”
“Okay.” A faint flicker of something, anything, Techno, please—
The door was shut in his face.
Tommy sagged. “Oh,” he said softly, so himself. “Oh.”
He held up his hand, five fingers extended—the only five people in the world he believed would help him when he needed it—and lowered one. Gently.
“Oh.” This one was watery, eyes prickling, and he swallowed. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He’d done terrible, awful, cruel things to Techno. He’d treated him like a weapon, a tool. He—he wasn’t deserving of help, or care, or any of Techno’s time.
He walked off the porch and down the path, heading straight for the gate and searching frantically through his mind for anywhere in the world he could go—
In the distance, a horse chuffed.
Tommy’s eyes flicked to the left, where, a couple hundred meters away, Techno’s stables sat. Huge. Near. Warm.
Carl was somewhere in there, he thought. Henry was somewhere in there.
He stepped off the path and made his way towards the barn, careful not to push too much pressure on his leg. Once he pushed open the door, he immediately applauded his own decision. The entire building practically pulsed with welcoming warmth, wax lanterns painting the wood and stone walls with a gentle golden glow. Hay crunched softly under his feet as he slowly closed the great wooden door.
Another neigh. In the farthest stable from the doors, on the edge of the spruce stall, Carl rested his head.
“Hey, man,” Tommy murmured. He navigated around hay bales and cartons of milk to approach the dark brown steed. Carl snuffled, ears twitching. “Missed your great big smile.”
At the word smile, Carl snorted, upper lip lifting to reveal gleaming horse teeth. It was a trick Tommy had taught Carl when Tommy was little—a trick he had saved for when he needed a laugh and had never gotten to show Techno.
Tommy didn’t laugh, but he did smile slightly, and reached out a hand to gently set it on Carl’s head. “How’s life in horse land?”
Carl flapped his ears, huffing a little when Tommy scratched it between his ears.
“Good to hear,” Tommy nodded solemnly. Then he glanced around Carl’s stable, eyes wandering over the hay and the water trough and the basket of golden apples until they landed on the blanket on Carl’s back—rich, vibrant red and pure white, decorated with delicate little snowflakes and mistletoe.
“Oh,” Tommy said. He looked into Carl’s huge, gleaming brown eyes. “It’s almost Christmas, innit?”
Carl sniffed.
“Sorry I didn’t get you anything,” Tommy mumbled, leaning forward to press his face into the side of Carl’s neck. Breathing in the familiar smell of wheat and leather. “Been a while since I’ve thought about Christmas.”
Hell, he didn't even know it was December. Sure, the snow might have hinted at it, but it was always snowing where Techno lived. And he hadn’t been nearly peaceful enough back home to pay attention to things like weather, or seasons, or the passing of time.
He exhaled, listening to the gentle thump of Carl’s heartbeat. Thump-thump. Thump. Thump-thump. Thump.
Shameful confessions simmered underneath his skin, an itching that he couldn’t ignore again.
“I’m doing everything wrong,” Tommy whispered. A deep, terrible feeling had crept up in his throat and pushed the beginnings of tears behind his eyes. “I just—I don’t know how to do the right thing, or be a good person. I don’t know how to be good,” he admitted. “Will I ever be?”
Carl didn’t answer. It was an awfully big question for a horse.
“Maybe,” Tommy mumbled.
After a few long moments, he pulled away from Carl’s side, face warm.
When he moved to walk away, Carl snuffed, pressing his nose against Tommy’s forehead. Tommy squeaked.
“Eugh, Carl, that’s cold as shit, what—oh.”
Carl was nudging the latch of his stall, snorting. Tommy opened it hesitantly. “I don’t think I can let you out, big man—“
The edge of his thin shirt was gently grabbed between Carl’s teeth and Tommy was carefully dragged into Carl’s stall. Carl was strangely aware of Tommy’s injuries, pulling him so his bad leg was just dragging along behind him.
“Okay.” Tommy was released and he dropped to the ground. “Okay.” Carl nudged the gate shut and promptly laid down on the straw floor. “…Okay,” Tommy said again, drawn out. “Guess we’re roommates.”
The stone floor was hard and cold, but the thick layer of hay concealed the discomfort well, and sheer warmth radiated off of Carl’s body. Tommy shuffled around awkwardly for a second before leaning back against Carl’s back, shifting until his taut muscles relaxed and he let out a long breath.
“Thank you,” he whispered. Carl snuffled. The lanterns flickered peacefully along the walls, and heavy tiredness weighed at his very bones.
It was easy to be able to sleep. It was hard to let himself. What with the constant film reel running in his brain, of betrayal and shame and death.
Eventually, though, exhaustion overpowered the racing thoughts buzzing in his mind, and he slipped into sleep.
~•-•o•-•~
A nudge against his forehead.
“Whgh?” Tommy mumbled.
A harder nudge, and Tommy groaned.
Then a cold nose pressed into his neck and a sharp voice rang in the distance and he snapped awake.
“Shit,” he swore, and Carl, who was already standing with his head dipped into the water trough, huffed. Tommy could hear, through his panic, Techno’s voice from outside. “Oh, fuck.”
The barn door creaked open and Carl’s ears swiveled in that direction. The horse backed up slowly, pushing Tommy against the back wall.
“Carl?” Techno’s voice called. Tommy could see the shadows of Techno’s feet through the bottom of the stall gate. “Carl, you’ve slept in, lazy, we’ve got a whole patrol to do.”
Techno’s face appeared above the gate, eyes trained on Carl’s head. Carl, who was making a low, threatening noise and was doing his very best to hide Tommy against the wall.
But alas. Techno was a perceptive bitch with piglin senses, and his eyes immediately flicked to Tommy.
His expression hardened. “Tommy. Get away from my horse.”
Most words he’s said to me so far, Tommy thought deliriously. He wasn’t even able to think about moving before Carl snorted even louder, throwing his head back and shifting his hooves.
Techno glanced at the horse, the faintest hint of uncertainty in his eyes. “Carl? That’s Tommy. It’s Tommy.”
It’s me, Techno. Tommy swallowed, but Carl didn’t falter. He shifted his hooves again and flattened his ears against his head.
Techno looked back at Tommy, who was peering from above Carl’s back. “What are you doing here? And what did you do to my horse?”
“I did nothing, I swear,” Tommy blurted. “Literally nothing, he just dragged me in here, Tech, I—” The nickname slipped out and Tommy’s mouth snapped shut. Techno’s jaw clenched, and Tommy swallowed. “I–I just wanted to say hi, I swear.”
Techno considered him for a long moment.
“I don’t care,” he finally said, though the ice in his eyes said much differently. “Leave when you’re done, or whatever”.
Then he vanished, footsteps thudding across the stable and pausing for a moment. There was a scrape of a stack of milk cartons being lifted, and then creaking up the ladder as Techno presumably went to go do something productive.
Tommy released a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. “Oh, Prime,” he breathed, and Carl leaned forward slightly, allowing Tommy to slide down the wall and sit with his knees to his chest, determinedly ignoring the twinge in his leg. “Fuck. Holy—holy shit.”
Carl made a noise in agreement.
“You bastard,” Tommy said finally, able to inject some lightness into his voice. He was still excruciatingly aware of Technoblade in the loft above him—the slow creaking was a sure sign that Techno was sorting milk cartons and was preparing to make butter. (Tommy was surprised he remembered this process from so long ago.) “You bastard horse. Actin’ all high and mighty in front of your human. Good on you.”
Carl snorted, the horse equivalent of an eyeroll, and Tommy grinned, despite the prickling anxiety ever-looming in his chest. Despite the presence of Techno mere meters above him, the Techno who would probably very much like to leave him to die in the snow. Despite it all, he took a breath, pressed his face into Carl’s warm chest, and breathed.