Chapter Text
Doc’s purgatory was finally ready. The machine had already been thoroughly tested and confirmed to continue functioning indefinitely. The area around the retaining walls had been terraformed to cover them. His communicator was off so nobody could find out what he was doing. Everything was in place. Even the gap in the walls he’d used to enter had been filled back in with obsidian.
Doc took a deep breath as he sorted through the few items in his inventory one last time. His tools were left in one of the chests next to him, on the off chance that something went wrong—and so that nobody would find them left unused back at his base and have proof something was off. He’d been careful to tidy up a little, but leave everything—every build, every farm, everywhere he went—in the exact same condition it usually was in. Nothing suspicious, no reason to worry, and no possible hints towards what he’d been working on.
All he had left in his inventory were a few small mementos and a bed. He set the bed down on the cave floor next to the chests. Setting his respawn point Doc sat down and gazed at the room around him, allowing himself a moment to take in the world for the final time, as little of it as there was in the cell he’d built for himself. The chamber was a cold, empty space, but it served its purpose. Doc didn’t need something comfortable or nicely decorated, only functional. He hadn’t even cleared all of the stone out from this part of the chamber, only bothering to expand what had originally been a smaller section of the cave so that he could see and access the front of the device more easily. Stalactites hung from the ceiling in the back corners, littered with just enough torches to prevent any dark crevices from allowing mobs to spawn.
The deep green blankets were nice and soft under his hands, at least. One small comfort in this place surrounded by rough stone and obsidian and the muffled noises of redstone firing. The bed was made from good quality dyed wool Doc got from Ren’s shop. He didn’t need to buy it, he could easily make some himself—and now he had over four stacks leftover in the chest next to him, never to be used—but Doc was more sentimental than he usually let on, and had decided to indulge himself this once. After all, it would be the last time he got the chance to.
Even the small action of setting his spawn sent a pang of sadness through him, quickly replaced by determination. He would never have to respawn again, as long as everything went smoothly—and Doc was sure it would. He’d already tested each component of the device separately, and then all together on several mobs just to make sure everything was operational.
Doc took one final look around the chamber. There was nothing left to do, no more ways to procrastinate what he’d come here for. Everything was perfect, so why was he still hesitating?
Maybe it was because in some way he still felt responsible for the Hermits—for his family. He’d tried to push the thought from his mind whenever it came up, but here he couldn’t deny it anymore: he was abandoning them. Yes, he wasn’t one of the more social people on the server or one to organize big events, but he’d been there almost since the beginning. Back when the server was less stable, Xisuma wasn’t as experienced, and Doc’s expertise was needed. These days it was rare for a true emergency to come up, and there was usually someone better suited to help than him. Still, when others didn’t know what to do, he was the one to fall back on in the end. Briefly, Doc wondered if it had ever crossed any of their minds that that left him with nobody to turn to. Probably not. They didn't think of him as someone that could need help, or probably as someone that needed anything. Maybe not even someone that could be there for them when it counted. He was more of a vague scary concept than a friend to the server now. His role wasn’t—no, he wasn’t needed anymore. Doc knew nobody else had the same intellect and level head he did when things got bad, but they were warmer. Kinder.
Maybe that was his problem. He wasn’t kind enough, friendly enough. He tried to be, he thought he was, but some part of him had never fully moved on from the old days before Hermitcraft when some level of guarding was needed at all times. There were others like Hypno and Wels that had been around for a long time and kept more to themselves, but even they were approached like people. Doc was… a monster. It was mostly his own fault, too. He hadn’t asked to be designed as the amalgamation hybrid experiment he was, he hadn’t asked to lose more and more of himself and rebuild his own body out of redstone, but neither of those were things the other Hermits judged him on much. No, what he’d done was willingly played the part of the monster.
It wasn’t intentional at first, not past the small pranks typical for the server, but gradually he found himself relying on it more and more. Most Hermits would get checked in on whenever they seemed to be losing themselves in a project or spiraling in some way, but Doc wasn’t afforded the same courtesy. If he stayed up for days working or threw himself into danger over and over testing a new weapon it was just regular Doc—never mind that being even more concerning than if it only happened on occasion.
Well, if the others wouldn’t care about him and talk to him the same way they did with each other, he’d do something they couldn’t ignore. Causing a mess for any attention, even if it was negative, like a child throwing a tantrum. That was how Doc had spiraled into what he’d become. Doc had justification a lot of the time too, but he made the choice to escalate. He hated himself less when he had a legitimate excuse for taking revenge, but secretly those times hurt the worst.
Doc liked the prank wars that happened on the server usually, but he knew others weren’t pushed as far as he usually was, and when something did go wrong it was usually apologized for. Not for Doc though, in that case it was just extra entertainment for everybody. When someone caused real damage to redstone that had taken him days or weeks to build and just laughed it off it stung. Well, it was funny, wasn’t it? It was funny when Doc got mad. His emotions were a game to them, not real or valuable like they were for others. So Doc would play the raging, crazy villain that they wanted. It was better than being ignored. If he couldn’t talk about his emotions, he at least had that to turn to.
Doc flinched as he realized where his thoughts had gone. Violently taking out his anger on friends who never meant to hurt him? It was no wonder people kept their distance. He was a monster. Hurting and manipulating the people he called his family just because he couldn’t be happy with what he had and couldn’t take a joke.
Only when he heard something dripping onto his mechanical arm did Doc realize he was crying. It didn’t matter, there was no one there to see it. Just Doc and the purgatory he’d built for himself.
He didn’t want to think anymore—that was half the point of this, after all—he just wanted to get it over with. Wiping the tears from his eyes, Doc walked up to the iron door into the coffin. That’s what he’d nicknamed it, the tiny chamber at the center of his final reality-breaking redstone device. The term felt fitting. If the mechanical parts were overlayed with a marble façade, it could pass for an unearthed tomb. Doc almost chuckled thinking about how well that might fit among Keralis’ Roman designs this season. Unlike any king or priest of old, his final resting place was strictly functional. Nobody would be coming to mourn; he would be immured and forgotten like the criminal he was. For a moment he wondered what form of burial was considered proper by the ancient worshippers of the Goatmother, and what they might think of their descendant’s unorthodox choice. Whether or not there was an afterlife, he wouldn’t be able to get there. With respawns waiting for him each time he died, this limbo was the closest he would ever have.
Doc pressed the button and looked around inside. Everything was exactly how he’d left it, not that there was anything to see but the dispensers and other components built into the walls of the coffin. The few blocks without any mechanical function were deepslate diamond ore. Not as a show of wealth this time, but simply because he liked how they looked, and had grown attached over the course of the past season. If this chamber was going to be the last thing he would ever see, he wanted it to at least look a little bit nice. He was still a dedicated builder at heart.
Nothing left to do but to finish what he started. Doc took a deep breath, and flicked the lever on the platform next to him. Faintly, a timer under him began to tick. His heart jolted as some part of him finally processed what he was doing. He could still back out, he didn’t have to go into the coffin, he had the option to live.
He didn’t take it. He’d begun this plot knowing exactly how it would end. Doc pressed the button to open the door and darted in. It swung shut behind him with an echoing clang, sealing him inside and sealing his fate. There was no mechanism to open the door from the inside and he didn’t have any tools with him. Not that Doc wanted to escape, whatever that base survival instinct in the back of his mind was trying to tell him. All he could do now was wait for the timer to finish and dispensers to turn on.
Doc leaned against the wall and slowly slid down to the floor. The iron was cold, even through his lab coat. He didn’t mind the cold, especially not with how much time he’d spent in the snow this season, but being trapped in a tiny, cold room as redstone fired around him reminded him of his childhood in the worst way. The ore was grounding, at least. Doc stared at it. Only torchlight coming through the small window lit the chamber, barely allowing him to see the blocks.
The first potion shattered over him and he flinched. Just moderate weakness, not enough to do what he needed yet. The machine had to maintain specific timing to keep him unconscious but alive though, so he’d just have to wait. It wouldn’t be more than a minute before he was gone.
Doc’s last thoughts as the weakness began to take effect were of his friends. Etho. Xisuma. The NHO. Team S.T.A.R.. Bdubs. Everyone he’d known long before Hermitcraft and everyone he’d barely had over a season to get to know.
Ren. Doc squinted, trying to make out his wedding band in the low light. None of his friends deserved the stress they would likely go through once they realized he was gone—because Doc knew they would worry at first, even if this was for the best—but Ren… He didn’t want to think of what this would do to Ren. He deserved so much better, and hopefully he’d be able to move on and have that in time, but Doc knew this would break his heart.
Doc hadn’t even said a proper goodbye. He’d made sure not to do anything too telling, like imply any conversation was the last or leave a note. He hadn’t been as social lately, spending most of his time on his plan, so not talking to people wouldn’t be cause for alarm. Ideally his disappearance would go mostly unnoticed, allowing him to fade away quietly without any argument or panic, and saying too much would make that harder to pull off.
But now, actually processing that he was leaving them, he felt he should at least say a little more before he was gone. It was far too late for anyone to stop him anyway.
Selfishly, he didn’t want to be alone, either.
He flinched again as the next weakness and poison potions hit him. Doc tapped the communicator on his wrist, but nothing happened. Right, he’d shut it off. He couldn’t let anyone use the data from it to find him.
Would it be possible to turn it back on just for a moment? Just to speak to Ren one last time. Probably not. It would be too risky, even if he managed it with his slow and shaky hands. Before he realized it Doc had slumped onto the floor, unable to maintain even the strength needed to stay upright.
So Doc lay there, staring at the blank screen. Thinking of everything he wanted to say. To Ren. To everyone. As the potions clouded his mind, complex, eloquent ways of saying goodbye and explaining himself faded into a loop of something simpler:
I’m sorry. I’m so tired. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to be in pain.
Doc barely noticed as another weakness potion shattered in front of him. It stilled the spasms in his chest as his body lost the energy even to cry.
I wish I was better. You deserve better.
He could feel his cybernetics turning off, detecting that he was falling asleep. Doc struggled to keep his eye open a little longer, taking in his last few moments of light. Where it hit the flecks of diamond they glittered like stars.
I’m sorry. I love you.
His eye fluttered closed, and his heartbeat slowed until he could barely feel it. Everything was finally over. Doc allowed his consciousness to fade into the dark blurriness overtaking him.
Goodbye.