Work Text:
“Y’know, some of the other scientists were asking why I was even here.”
Wilbur’s voice is a random break in the silence kept between them as they work, Techno’s attention preoccupied upon the tablet in his hand, Wilbur’s eyes glued to the laptop over his legs.
Wilbur stays typing as Techno pulls attention away from his barrage of endless emails, a constant stream of needed communication and needed approval. Saving a dying star tends to make all of Techno’s free time a thing of the past, but here, in the quiet of him just checking over clearance confirmations and lab results, it’s a chance for Wilbur to actually get a good conversation out of him.
“What?” Techno blinks. It could be out of a genuine shock, or a lagging comprehension. It’s near midnight now. He’s only had his most recent coffee three hours ago. “They said what?” He repeats, and that seems more like shock.
Wil scrunches his nose up, slowing for a bit on his work. He looks towards his brother. “I’ve heard people talk, Techno. I’m barely qualified as is, and my only actual connection to all this is the fact that their boss is my brother.”
Techno goes still. Now it is less of a surprise upon his expression, and more of a silent rising anger, with swift, striking consequences being promised under his government-pardoned fist. “Who said this?”
“That’s not- it doesn’t really matter.” Wilbur waves a hand. He shifts in his seat, pushing his laptop to the side to face Techno better. “I’m trying to say-“
“I would like some names, I think.”
“Not the point.” Wilbur insists.
He sighs. Techno pointedly turns off the tablet in his hands, and Wilbur knows, he knows, that here and now, in this minute, this is something precious and short. There is no time to waste when the world depends on their efforts. There is no point in idling when humanity needs their future to be saved.
The future needs to be saved, by all capable hands that can be brought. Wilbur is here to do so, has been, for the past few weeks, but-
“Why am I here, Techno?” Wilbur asks. “You clearly have the resources at hand, you could have anyone you need. Why put me on the project? I’m hardly the best person to pick.”
Techno gives him a thoughtful look. “Actually, I think you’re the most qualified person.”
Wilbur gives him an unimpressed frown.
Technoblade rolls a shoulder back, as if trying to settle some tense muscle there.
“You aren’t intimidated by me. You’ll tell it as it is. You’re my brother.” He gestures out with his finger, waving it up in some sort of half-circle. “There’s- easy communication.”
Wilbur clicks his tongue disapprovingly at such a weak argument. “This is just kinda proving the nepotism point.” He insists, and Techno has the nerve to look more amused than abashed. “You’re vastly overestimating my abilities here.”
“We’ve had no issue with your work so far. I think you’re right where you need to be.”
“But I don’t need to be here.” Wilbur insists. “There isn’t a point in having me, of all people, here. Yes, maybe I’m qualified enough to pull my weight, and I have- pulled my weight quite a bit, but I shouldn’t have been your first choice. Not at all. So why was I?”
Technoblade lowers his head for a second, eyes drawn to the floor. Wilbur tries to follow, leaning forward over his crossed legs.
“Is this actually just a matter of you picking favorites because you can?” Wilbur asks, huffing a bit at the thought.
“It’s not that.” Techno denies.
“Then?”
“The world is going to get worse.” Techno admits simply, far too matter of fact. “With the sun dimming at the rate it’s going, the earth will go cold, countries will starve, and these next few years may be the best we will ever have for the next century.”
Wilbur grimaces a bit for the facts. He knows this. Techno knows that he knows this.
“We’re running out of time. And it’s all so busy. There’s no time.” He stresses, and he lifts his head towards Wil. “If you weren’t with me now, when would be the next time I see you? When things begin to grow worse? When the consequences start to catch up, and all the governments start to backtrack on the powers they’ve given me? I don’t want it like that. I won’t have our last years together be like that.”
“There will be time, after the Hail Mary is launched.” Wilbur tries to reassure, although it's hard to keep out the unsure nervousness in his voice. “It’s not gonna be instant- we’ll still have time.”
“You don’t know that.” Techno insists, a little harshly. Wilbur takes no offense upon the tone. It’s late. And it’s been too long since their last coffee. Techno softens within the next few seconds, anyhow. “I want you with me while things are still good. Right now. But I don’t want to waste time, so I’m- multitasking.”
“You’re saving the world and shoving some brotherly bonding in between?” Wilbur asks, not too seriously.
“We’re saving the world.” Techno confirms, holding a hand to his chest, a grin stretching over his face. “And having brotherly bonding all throughout.”
Wilbur rolls his eyes. It’s a fond thing, though, and Techno knows it, judging by the way he gives a passing chuckle. Wil returns back to his work, picking up his laptop again, and Techno turns his tablet back on, his inbox having practically doubled in the time he looked away.
“...Who was it that said you weren’t qualified?" Techno asks, less than a minute later.
“And I’m getting a coffee.” Wilbur decides, getting up and leaving the room.
“Wilbur. Wil. Who said that-?” Techno asks, calling out even as he leaves the door.
---
Wilbur understands most of Techno’s fears, honestly. With all the power he’s currently given, all the orders he gives out, the decisions he’s made- Antarctica itself (or rather, the lack of it, now) is reason alone for him to consider possible future imprisonment, when the ship has launched and the project is done.
While things are still good, he had said. Wilbur wishes the good could have a bit more breathing room.
He works diligently alongside Techno all the same, putting the hours upon hours in, making sure that he has shown his worth. Technoblade would never take him off the project if he didn’t, but Wilbur would rather he need not worry, and he knows that every little effort counts. He needs to take at least one single burden off his brother’s shoulders. He needs to carry the weight of the world with him, at least for a moment.
It seems entirely worth it, in the week leading up to the launch.
Then there comes that incident in the lab, hitting them all without warning, leaving a fatal gap in the crew, no scientist to put upon that ship, no back-up to fill the spot. A mistake in measurement, a bit too much astrophage, an explosion killing too many of their very needed experts within a single afternoon.
Wilbur is one of the surviving experts, technically, seeing as he wasn’t near the explosion at all, but rather at Techno’s side, as per usual.
Wilbur is one of the only experts left, and the launch is at the end of the week.
They need someone.
---
Techno looks at him with nothing but careful, wounded hope, and he tells him he has three hours to consider.
---
Wilbur meets him in his office an hour later, his mind made up, and his heart so, so heavy.
“I’m not-” Wilbur’s voice cracks midway through, his hand bringing up his sleeve to wipe it over the side of his face. “I’m not brave like how you think I am. I’m not who you see me as, Techno.”
“I’ve never overestimated you. I know who you are.” Techno insists, calm and sure. “I’ve always known you as the person you are.”
“No, no, you-” Wilbur clears his throat. “You overestimated it, this time. You miscalculated- and, and you didn’t know- it’s- it’s my fault, but I’m-” He shakes his head, looking down. His hands come up as if to try and hold something before him, fingers trembling. “I can’t… do it.”
Techno’s lips press thin.
There’s sympathy in the way he looks at Wilbur, it can be felt, but it does nothing against his decision, and it does nothing in terms of comfort. It’s just suffocation, more than anything.
“There’s no one else, Wilbur.” He reminds.
“I know, I know-” Wil lifts his palms up to his face, pressing them against his eyes, knocking his glasses up into his curls. He lowers his head down. “I know. But you- I know you need to ask this, but I can’t do it. I can’t do this. You’re hoping for too much, from me- I can’t- I can’t do this.”
Techno gives a near silent sigh, a bit stuttered. “If I could ask anyone else, you know I would-”
“Technoblade.” Wilbur croaks out.
“-but we’re out of options, and we’re out of time.”
There is no time. Wilbur knows it, he’s written up the plans, he’s had his eyes upon this launch for the better part of this whole year, every waking minute of every day of every passing month- it’s all led up to this. Every meeting at Techno’s side, every dragging hour within the lab- Wilbur knows the timeline. He knows the stakes.
He knows his brother.
“You’ll find a way.” Wilbur says wryly, his glasses falling lopsided back onto his face, his hands lowering into his lap. He looks up at Techno, expression twisted up in guilt. He hates to refuse him, after all of this, after such clear effort he’s given, Wil wishes he could dare to repay him with something of bravery, but- “You always do. You’ll find a solution.”
“...You’re my solution.” Technoblade murmurs quietly, something of grief scattered over his gaze.
“I’m sorry.” Wilbur sniffles. A tear runs past his cheek, and he lets it. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry- I- No. I can’t. That’s the answer, no. I can’t.”
Technoblade’s look seems to go even more distant, all sense of expression wiping itself clean from his face.
He says nothing for a long moment, Wilbur sniffling softly from his seat, periodically wiping at his face again, adjusting his glasses on his nose.
“Okay.” Techno breathes out, and relief floods through Wil, enough for more tears to spill out over his cheeks. “Okay.” He repeats, looking at his brother’s sobbing face, a soothed terror etched out in his eyes.
There is kindness, for a moment, in the silence held between them both.
But Wilbur falters at the way Techno’s face stays utterly and completely blank. A poker face in its entirety, but Wil knows his expressions as well as he knows his own- and there is something off. Something strained.
“I-” Techno swallows, and he breathes in, slow and sure. “I don’t ever expect you to forgive me for this, but just know that I never wanted it.” Techno tells him, words held tight in his throat. “This isn’t what I wanted.”
Wilbur’s breath hitches midway through a sob, and he furrows his brows together. “What?”
“Come in.” Techno calls, one wave of a hand, and the door opens with people walking through, a set of bodyguards quickly covering the exits. There’s a doctor in a lab coat, a briefcase in hand, and they move to the table by the other side of the room, opening it up.
Wilbur stares at seeing the sight of syringes and vials of some sort. He glances back at Techno for answer.
“What is- What is this?” Wilbur asks. He coughs slightly, hand wiping at his cheek, trying to compose himself in front of company. He looks to the bodyguards at the doors. Is there a threat on base? “What are you doing?”
“Mission plan will state that you were induced into a coma early to maximize your safety.” Techno begins to explain, and Wilbur’s head snaps back towards him. His voice has slipped back into that cold, detached tone, a leadership professionalism.
The sound of it being pointed at Wilbur is- jarring.
“There will be no mention of your hesitance, and you will be remembered only as- a hero.” Techno tells him, and Wilbur flinches back.
“What?” Wilbur chokes out, twisting around his chair to stare again at the people behind him, as if to catch confirmation from their faces. They all pointedly avoid his gaze, and say absolutely nothing. Wilbur looks back at Techno with wide, disbelieving eyes. “Wha- You’re not serious.”
He’s not a hero, he wants to insist. He’s most qualified, maybe, he’s best suited, probably, in this sort of desperate situation, but what does that matter? He’s a coward at heart, he knows this in truth, but maybe that’s not the priority right now.
Techno waves a hand up again, and the doctor is turning to face Wilbur, taking a step forward with a loaded syringe in hand, filled with- a sedative.
Wilbur’s heart drops into his stomach. He’s hesitant to turn his back on the needle, but he does, so he can look at his brother with a questioning eye.
“Techno.” He says, and the blank-faced look Techno still keeps is nothing short of unnerving. Wilbur tilts his head. “What are you-?”
Techno makes a short nod, not quite looking Wilbur in the eyes. “I know this seems- drastic-”
“It looks a bit fucking drastic!” Wilbur hisses, and his chair screeches back as he gets to his feet, moving away from the desk. Techno stands with him, albeit far more slowly. Calmly. “You’re going to have them drug me?”
“It’s necessary.” Techno confirms. “Unless you’d rather go willingly-”
“I’m not going at all. I’m sorry- I- I told you, I’m not who you want. I can’t- I can’t do this! I won’t do this, you can’t just put me on the ship-”
“I can.” Techno cuts him off. “And I will.”
“It’s a death mission.” Wilbur reminds. A death mission meant to save the whole world, whispers a quiet voice in the back of his head. It sounds a little like Techno, from those later nights where hope seemed to turn frail. Where Wilbur wanted nothing more than to just ease that fear that seemed to settle over his face. “You’re going to send me off to my death?”
“Wilbur.” Techno says. “If-” He begins, and he suddenly wavers, breath catching. Wilbur looks at him with his eyes pulling wide. “If there’s any last words you want to say to me-”
“No.”
“Now is the time.”
“No, no-” Wilbur holds his hands out, shaking his head. “No, this is not-! You’re not doing this!”
“There isn’t a choice.”
“There is a choice!” Wilbur shouts, backing towards the windows. “There’s plenty of choices, there’s- there’s other, other people-!”
“None with the experience that you have and none that have as high a chance of success as you will bring-”
“Fuck the chances of success, this isn’t-!” Wilbur tries to suck in a proper breath, and it comes too short, too little within his lungs. “This is insane!”
“This has to be done.” Techno only insists. “We can’t push off the launch time, you’re the best hope we have, we don’t- we can’t-”
“Wait, wait-” Wilbur holds a hand up, looking desperately at the blocked exits.The doctor comes a bit closer, one of the guards coming near.
“I have to do it-”
“Can we talk about this?!” Wilbur asks. “Can we- don’t come near me- don’t fucking come near me!” He shouts out, his voice turning sharp.
They stop, if only for a moment.
They won’t listen to him. He’s not the highest ranked in the room right now.
Wilbur stays holding his palms out, his arms shaking mid-air.
“Techno, make them stop.” Wilbur demands, pointing a finger out as he’s slowly backed into the corner, the guards approaching him as if he’s a skittish animal. They hold their arms out, and Wilbur makes a swipe at one of their hands, pushing them away. He digs his nails past skin, teeth bared out. “Make them stop- Tell them to stop.”
“Make this easy.” Techno asks, and it is a pleading thing.
Wilbur’s eyes snap to him with a wide-eyed look of betrayal, new fear born anew.
“Don’t fight- don’t- Wilbur!” Technoblade shouts as Wil squeezes past one of the outstretched arms, dashing across the room in such panic that he hits the edge of the table, knocking over a chair. A few papers scatter out, a pen rolls across the floor. “Wil-!” Techno tries to call again, and the name dies in his throat as Wil starts to scream.
“Make them stop!” He demands, truly desperate. “Order them to- tell them! Techno!”
He doesn’t. Wilbur slams into the wall in trying to get away, and when Techno does no such thing, only watching as they try to corner him in again, Wil’s face screws up into a furious sort of horror.
“Technoblade, stop it.” He begs.
“I-” Techno doesn’t make a single step away from where he stands on the other side of his desk. He hasn’t made a single step at all. “I’m sorry.”
That’s the final nail in the coffin. The hope in Wil’s expression crumbles apart into nothing.
He makes a run for it.
He pushes past the bodyguards with all the desperate energy of someone trying to live, and he goes out into the hall, multiple people trying to call him back, trying to follow.
Techno says nothing, only listening to the sound of the commotion getting farther away, the chase heading far off from the room.
He moves to the window to watch how Wil makes an instant beeline for the exit, coming outside to try and get out on foot, trying to head towards the perimeter fence.
He won’t make it. Techno has plenty of men stationed nearby, and all the entryways for the fence are locked down until he gives the word otherwise.
Wilbur goes down screaming. The chase lasts just a handful of minutes, with him caught and tackled to the floor like a feral, fighting thing, his voice turning cruel and hostile, swearing at them all, because then dissolving away into something more desperate when he realizes he’s not able to claw his way up from where they’re holding him onto the ground.
He starts to sob again, when the doctors manage to catch up to where the guards are holding him.
“I won’t do it!” He insists. “I’m not- Don’t do this! Don’t! I can’t do this! Please, no!”
And when they do not listen, making no reply to his words, no reaction-
“Techno!” Wilbur screams. “Don’t let them do this! Technoblade! Help me! Techno!”
He calls for him, right up until the needle actually hits his vein.
Techno says nothing. He does nothing. He stays on his side of the window, witnessing the scene from afar like it’s something out of his hands, like he was born to be a witness, watching as they carry Wilbur’s body up as soon as he goes out.
He’s done everything he can for the sake of this mission.
But for this- he does nothing.
—
Wilbur’s last vague memory of earth is the sight of the cloudy sky above. There’s an oxygen mask over his face, and multiple people at his side, monitoring him as the truck underneath them takes them away to- somewhere. They’re going somewhere.
He hears voices faintly, but he can’t make them out, and his eyes grow heavier and heavier as he stares up.
A hand settles over the crown of his head, light and hesitant. But warm. Something of love.
Wilbur does not have the energy to cry. Nor does he have the energy to push the hand away. He doesn’t think he would force it off, even if he did, though.
He drifts off to sleep with Techno’s name still stuck between his teeth, lodged down in his throat.