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Ash has been acting strange.
It's impossible for Tubbo not to notice it—he's not the most gentle man with his words, but he's never been unreasonably harsh. Not to Tubbo, at least.
So to say the first outburst takes him off guard would be an understatement.
He's squatting down in front of the storage, muttering to himself as he searches for just a few more pieces of redstone. There's no way he already used all of it, there has to be more in here somewhere.
The telltale sound of the waystone being used followed by boots clicking against the factory's stone floor pulls Tubbo out of his tunnel vision. Ash is standing in the entryway, arm rested against the wall. For a moment Tubbo wonders if he's been injured, but a quick glance soothes that worry almost instantly.
"Hey there, Supreme Leader," Tubbo says, picking himself up off the ground. He tries to dust off the grime that has accumulated on his pants as a result of working in the factory nonstop but only ends up rubbing oil and coal off of his fingers and dirtying his pants further. Whoops. A problem for future Tubbo.
If Ash responds Tubbo certainly doesn't hear it so he opts to fill the silence himself.
"Y'know, I don't suppose you have any redstone in your backpack. I seem to have used up all of mine already. Though I could've sworn I had a bunch in storage—"
Ash makes a noise close enough to a hum that Tubbo thinks he's heard him. Another cursory glance back at the man shows that he hasn't moved an inch, and his eyes are fixed firmly on the floor.
Tubbo steps closer to him, waving a hand at his face.
"Anybody in there? Earth to Ash?"
Ash's eyes snap up to Tubbo's and he stops leaning on the wall, arms rigid at his sides as he clears his throat.
"Did you need something?" he says, tone noncommittal.
"Redstone, if you've got any."
Ash's eyebrows furrow slightly. "Did I not just get you a bunch of redstone a few days ago?"
"I know," Tubbo pouts, drawing out the vowel. "But I had to use it for," he gestures vaguely behind himself to the whirring machines, "all of that."
Tubbo doesn't expect Ash to bend over backwards to get materials for him (though he certainly appreciates the times his Supreme Leader has come back from a long mining trip with extra iron for him to use) but it would be extremely convenient for both of them if he happened to have any spare redstone.
Ash's face turns down with a scowl, arms clasped behind his back as he begins to pace in an unwaveringly straight line. He mutters to himself, Tubbo unable to catch a single word.
The engineer's lips part in confusion, questions—primarily a follow-up to his first one—sitting on the tip of his tongue.
But he holds them in as he catches fractions of sentences—my fault, no more, killed her—in the midst of Ash's frantic mumbling. Ash pauses suddenly. The set of his shoulders is so tense that Tubbo half expects him to start shaking.
Ash turns around sharply and seems surprised to see Tubbo standing there, a bit awkward in his stance as he fiddles with the hem of his shirt.
"Did you need something from me?" Ash asks, voice not sharp but certainly running thin on patience.
"Oh, just—" Tubbo readjusts the goggles on his head, needing something to do with his hands, "redstone, if you've any hiding in that bag of yours."
The scowl returns to Ash's face as quickly as it had left. He takes the bag off of his shoulder and throws it unceremoniously to the ground in front of Tubbo's feet.
"Look for it yourself, I don't have time for this," he snaps. "The Regime needs to be prepared for the possibility of war at any moment."
Tubbo makes a noise, somewhere between a shocked sputter and a scoff, and Ash turns on his heel to storm off to god knows where.
At least he finds the redstone he was looking for.
— — — — —
Tubbo tries to put the conversation—if it could even qualify as one—out of his mind.
Ash can be a strange guy, he tells himself, nearly slamming a hammer down onto his fingers in his distraction, I know he doesn't mean it.
But the second time it happens he can't ignore the feeling that something has definitely gone wrong.
The Supreme Leader's mention of war doesn't help the bubbling worry that makes a permanent residence in Tubbo's stomach. As far as he was aware, everything was perfectly peaceful, and given Ash's proclivity for violence he feels safe in assuming that Ash would feel no remorse in attacking someone if provoked.
Tubbo spends nearly every waking moment of his life surrounded by his machines. And he wouldn't have it any other way—he's never been happier, knowing that he's in a place where his love for Create is helpful.
He can't stay cooped up forever, though, and isn't surprised when Foolish tries to drag him out of his factory to go look at his new build up in the North.
"C'mon man," Foolish says, almost whining. "It won't take that long and I promise that your factory isn't going to explode while you're not in it."
Tubbo pauses where he is in front of the waterwheels (one of them had begun to rattle so he is now, quite painstakingly, checking them each individually) and turns to stare at him. Foolish is already looking at him, doing what Tubbo can only describe as poorly executed puppy dog eyes.
"I don't think I've even activated the waystone up in the North," Tubbo says. Foolish perks up, a wide, pointy toothed grin spreading across his face.
"That's fine! If you hold onto me while I teleport you'll come with me."
Tubbo hums, rolling out his shoulders. It definitely wouldn't hurt to take a break…
Life, more specifically the Supreme Leader of the Regime, seems to have different plans for him.
"Where do you think you're taking him?" Ash's low voice calls out just as Foolish's arm wraps around Tubbo's shoulders.
"Oh!" Foolish exclaims. "Ash! Uh— Supreme Leader. Your Supremeness. I was just going to take Tubbo here to visit the North for a moment so I could show off something I've been building. It won't take long at all."
Ash's eyes narrow in suspicion. It's extremely clear to Tubbo that the man doesn't trust Foolish or his intentions even the slightest bit.
"I'll be back to work before you know it, Swagster," he says, hoping it's enough to appease him.
It is most definitely not.
"I didn't recruit you to this cause for you to go and fuck around with your friends, Young Tobias."
"I've been working hard all day, man. It won't be that long, anyways."
Ash scowls and Tubbo immediately registers it as the same look from the other day. The look right before his mind went somewhere far away and he became almost incoherent.
He doesn't begin talking to himself but the pacing starts, though Tubbo had expected that—Ash always tends to pace when he thinks.
"Did nothing that I said to you register in your brain? This is serious, Tubbo. We don't have time for fun. At any moment we could be attacked. War waits for no one and nothing. You have to be on guard constantly. You have to be prepared for these things, Tubbo."
His words come out frantic, a ramble of a reprimand that does more to concern Tubbo than anything else.
Ash pauses abruptly and throws a glance over his shoulder at Tubbo, though he says nothing. Ash is looking directly at him, and yet it feels like he's being stared through.
There has always been something a bit uncanny about Ash's physique that Tubbo has never had the words for. He is undeniably human—it's there in the way that he holds himself, trying to get the most out of his already impressive height, the way he speaks and fumbles over words in a matter so well concealed Tubbo is sure he's the only one that notices—and yet there is something about him that feels impossible to explain. Tubbo is far from the only person to have caught it. Most of their new recruits bring it up to him the moment their Supreme Leader is out of earshot, unsure how he would react to the questioning.
Now, as Ash's eyes stare through his, Tubbo thinks he understands—both the outbursts and this unearthly aspect of his being.
Ash, in both mind and body, is unraveling.
It's impossible to focus on him—as if your eyes simply can't. Whatever holds him onto this plane of existence is beginning to fray and it's more and more obvious every day, and Tubbo has a sneaking suspicion that whatever prompted this peculiar part of Ash to worsen, for the code of the universe to glitch so noticeably, has something to do with his generally erratic behavior and previous outburst.
Tubbo taps Foolish on the side to grab his attention.
"Just teleport us," he says, voice quiet. Foolish makes a confused face.
"Man, I don't think he would—" Tubbo just shakes his head.
"Let's just go," he says again. Tubbo glances at Ash again, who is still looking at—more like behind—him. "I'm going to talk to him later, it's fine." Besides, I think he needs some time alone.
Foolish seems quite unconvinced but trusts Tubbo and his judgment enough that he presses his hand against the waystone, no questions asked.
Tubbo spares his Supreme Leader a final look, finding his gaze met by a far off, spacey stare. Just like in the factory that night, Ash is somewhere deep in his own mind, a place where every person is a future enemy and every moment not spent in preparation for an inevitable battle is a waste.
And then they vanish.
— — — — —
Foolish seems to brush off the prior interaction the moment they arrive at his newest project. The large dragon head, temporarily built out of dirt while Foolish searches for the correct block palette for it, is undeniably impressive and Tubbo has a great time talking about plans for future builds. At some point, Foolish invites him inside of the North's mansion to see what they've done so far, and who is he to deny a house tour?
Ash is never out of his mind as Tubbo enjoys himself up in the North but he relegates all Ash-related thoughts to a corner of his mind firmly labeled "Problems For Later" and allows himself to ignore it all for the time being.
By the time he's using the mansion's waystone he's spent several hours talking with Tina, Molly, and Foolish about more things than his brain can keep track of and the sun has been set for quite a while.
He arrives back at the Regime with a yawn and a stretch that makes his spine pop. The gentle glow of moonlight bounces off of the grays of the factory and the Quartermaster's tower in a way that is much more beautiful than he would have anticipated.
Tubbo is unsurprised to find Ash standing pensively on the bridge, looking out to the dark horizon.
For a moment, Tubbo debates just going to bed. He could postpone this conversation for another day, and he is a bit (more like very) exhausted.
But, even from afar, the tension on Ash's face is quite obvious, and Tubbo would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't curious if Ash would be more open if he was reeling with fatigue.
He steps into the spot right next to Ash, embracing the calm silence between them as waves roll underneath the bridge.
"You were gone for quite a long time, Tubbo," Ash says at some point. He doesn't seem… upset. More so as if pointing out a fact.
Tubbo hums. "I spent a while talking to some of the other people living up in the North. Lost track of time, y'know?"
If Ash hears him, he makes no moves to acknowledge it.
More silence. Wind whistling softly in his ears. Ash exhales. Out of the corner of his eye, Tubbo can see battle in his mind through his eyes.
He decides to stop dancing around it.
"You have something you want to talk about," Tubbo says, matter-of-factly. Ash glances at him so quickly he almost misses it.
"Yes, I think it's important to make sure that you're on the same page as me, as a member of the Regime, about how we should prepare for the possibility of war—"
"That's not what I meant," he interrupts, shaking his head. "I think you know that."
Ash stiffens slightly, his posture rigid, and he leans against the rail of the bridge. The torchlight flickers off of him in a way that makes it seem like parts of his body phase in and out of sight—though Tubbo can't be sure that they don't.
"Ash," Tubbo mutters when the other man stays quiet for an extended period of time. "You've been acting weird, man. And I don't really expect you to be totally honest with me, but your secrets are always safe with me if you're ever willing to tell them."
Assuming that the conversation is over, Tubbo turns to leave and head to bed.
A hand shoots out to grasp at his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.
When Tubbo faces him again, Ash avoids his gaze like it will strike him down instantly. His grip never falters.
Don't leave. Not yet.
So he doesn't. He stays still, watching every minute movement in Ash's face, watching every thought move behind his eyes.
They stay like that for a long time—the warmth of Ash's palm bleeding into Tubbo's skin for what may be hours.
Eventually—
"Come with me."
His hand slips away from Tubbo's wrist and the engineer quietly mourns the loss of contact but is (pleasantly) shocked when Ash's hand gently grabs at his own as he begins leading them both to the waystone.
"Hold on," Ash tells him, releasing Tubbo's hand to wrap his arm around his shoulders. Tubbo clings onto the other's torso, allowing himself a moment of indulgence when he buries his face into Ash's chest.
The feeling of being rematerialized is quickly replaced by a cool night's breeze. When he looks around after separating himself from his leader he immediately notices the abundance of flowers surrounding them.
They're on a mountain near the cliff-side—there's a small bench near the waystone and flowers as far as the eye can see.
It's gorgeous.
"I come here when I need to think." He says each word slowly, like they were each meticulously picked so he gets his point across as perfectly as possible. "You're the only other person that knows this place exists."
Tubbo feels his jaw drop slightly in surprise.
"Sit with me." Ash pats the spot on the bench next to him. Tubbo sits.
Ash stares up at the moon. It reflects off of his irises in a way that makes them look like they're glowing.
"I killed my daughter."
Oh.
Tubbo isn't sure what he thought Ash was going to tell him, but that certainly was not it.
Ash swallows audibly and Tubbo can see as emotion overtakes him—guilt and worry in his eyes. He's quick to hide it, but not fast enough for Tubbo to have not noticed.
"Do you know about the Federation, Tubbo?"
And, wow, if there's ever been something for him to throw directly into the "Problems For Later" corner it was that. Of course the fucking Feds have something to do with all of this.
"Yeah, I, uh… yeah I have some experience with the Federation," Tubbo replies, memories he was unprepared for creeping up on him. "Problems For Later."
"I had a conversation with Maximus," Ash explains. "He's been creating this museum—to document everything that happened in the first server to warn new members like me, to make sure the history wasn't lost." He pauses. An inhale. "He told me about the eggs—about how the Federation would stop at nothing to try to kill them, even if they were practically children to people."
Ash leans forward, elbows on his knees, and runs his hands through his hair.
"It made me weak. It made me fearful. It made me paranoid. I went to go check on my daughters and… and because I wasn't paying attention I let a creeper explode and it killed Son." His fingers grasp at his hair. "I got her killed because I was weak."
"Ash…"
Tubbo isn't sure what exactly he should say and, without thinking, reaches to rest a hand on his leg. Ash's gaze snaps to him.
"You shouldn't blame yourself for things like this," Tubbo murmurs, trying to seem as sincere as he can. "You didn't get her killed. Accidents happen."
Ash's hands drop from his hair and one slowly comes to rest atop Tubbo's. He runs his thumb across the back of his knuckles carefully, almost unsure.
Somewhere in Tubbo's mind, beyond the part that wants to figure out how best to respond to finding out that someone he cares about is grieving, is the curiosity of where the line starts—where these gentle touches stop being friendly comfort and start being something much more.
They were never just friendly, not for you, his mind helpfully supplies. "Problems For Later" corner, he tells it, though he doubts it'll listen.
"I'm sorry that you lost her," Tubbo says. Ash sighs quietly.
"I need to be prepared for anything," he murmurs. "They're going to come for me—they're going to try to stop me. To stop us." His hold on Tubbo's hand tightens in a way that feels almost protective. "But I'm not going to stop. Not for them, not for anyone."
"I know you won't." Tubbo can't help but grin slightly. He knows the Federation and their strength, and, for all his faith in Ash and his visions, knows it will likely be the first time that Ash loses.
But, still, he has hope—if anyone could find a way to bring the Federation to their knees, Tubbo believes in his Supreme Leader's ability to do it.
He looks down at their hands, not quite intertwined but together all the same, and meets Ash's eyes, inconsistently purple around the pupil.
Ash squeezes his hand, his jaw set with a ferocious determination. Pale moonlight illuminates his profile, accentuating the regal aura that he always attempts to carry with him.
And Tubbo knows that he would let this man lead him anywhere, no matter the risks.