Chapter Text
Tommy loves the calm wind winding around him, encasing him ever so gently.
It cools the burns littering his skin, breathes alive the numbness in his bones, settles the loneliness in his chest to a light rumble.
Quiet. It’s quiet too.
He isn’t usually one for the quiet, but up here it feels…natural. Like it should only exist in this peaceful, everflowing form. He wishes he could stay this quiet, maybe then he wouldn’t be here.
He’s too loud. His thoughts are too loud. A jumbled, chaotic, rambling mess with no end and no beginning that loves to just tumble out whenever they please. Apologizing never seems to work.
Tommy rubs at his arms absentmindedly, following the littered scars with his fingers.
But he won’t have to worry about that anymore.
He looks down, past his legs, past his feet, to the ground far, far below him. Everything looks so small from way up here, so inconsequential, meaningless.
The newly formed, still smoking, crater is to his right and the glimmering beach and vast sea to his left. There’s a small pool of water directly in front of him, but he’ll turn around to make sure to miss it. The broken nether portal and falling apart tent will be there waiting for him when he does.
Maybe he’ll get to see Wilbur in limbo, though he’s not sure how to feel about seeing his dead brother, the one who truly abandoned him when his mind started slipping away.
He shivers.
Hopefully Wilbur isn’t as insane as he was when he died. Hopefully he isn’t worse. It’ll be……interesting to talk to him again, to explain how he arrived.
The one thing he does know is that he’ll be upset to see him, maybe even angry.
But he won’t be able to feel any pain, you don’t have a body to feel with when you’re dead. Ghostbur told him that much before he abandoned him too.
And his other brother, the one that told him to die, Techno. He’ll be happy to see his death message on the comms, delighted even.
“Heroes always die,” he whispers to the wind, smiling softly.
Tommy remembers daydreaming about being one, filling the time of his younger years with great fantasies of killing the monster and saving the kingdom, finally living up to his namesake. There was a sense of wanting that died when the realities of the world came crashing in.
He’s not a hero. No one will remember his name with fondness or tell great tales to carry on to the next generation. He’s the troublemaker, the devil. The child.
Useless.
. . .
Techno would probably say, “good riddance,” or, “it was bound to happen eventually.” Techno would just move on with his day like it never even happened.
Phil, probably still stuck under house arrest, wouldn’t even look at his death message twice. He isn’t his father anymore, he wouldn’t care. Just another soul for the Goddess of Death to collect.
Tommy looks down again, sleepiness starting to creep into his legs.
He better hurry it up before Dream decides to come back–if he’ll ever come back.
No-no. He’s not giving that man another thought.
An old spark of defiance reignites. Small, resistant.
He doesn’t belong in his head, he doesn’t deserve to be the last face that flashes in front of his eyes, he isn’t a friend. Not after-after……isn’t he a friend? He was the only one who visited him, the only one who cared to stay…
No, his previous statement still holds. Dream will not be the last face he conjures up.
The numbness crawls back and curls up behind its boned cage, soothing the dying fire into nothing but ashes.
Tommy twists himself around, the pool now to his back.
He’s so tired.
All he has to do now is fall forward.
It should be easy-things are never easy. Hopefully it will be this one last time.
But out of the corner of his eye, the burst of purple portal particles registers.
—
Techno’s head aches, but for once it isn’t from Chat, who are exceptionally quiet, nothing but a dull murmur here and there.
Damned anvil cracking his skull open.
He rubs gently at his forehead, trying to soothe the pain ebbing and crashing like waves on a beach. It’s almost like he can hear the slap of water against sand…wait.
His ear flicks.
Why isn’t it cold?
Techno blinks back the fog at the edges of his vision to see a beach, an ocean, and a nearly setting sun. He tightens his grip on Carl’s reins.
This isn’t his portal.
He spins around, confused as he takes in his surroundings.
It smells oddly like explosives, blood, and burnt flesh. It smells like a warzone.
Blood?
More blood?
Blood for the Blood God time?
No, I don’t think so. We just had some, didn’t we?
Yeah! But more is always good!
“Chat, shut it,” he grumbles. “Please.”
There’s a beach to his left, down a slight incline, but a tent flaps tiredly in the breeze, up a beaten down path behind him. Smoke drifts through the air, as if coming from multiple spots.
“What in the Nether…”
The portal that he just came out of–the wrong one apparently–is lower than the tent, hiding most of the land from him.
Rummaging in his inventory, he finds a loose fence post and places it down, tying Carl’s reins to it.
“Now you stay here,” he gently strokes the horse’s muzzle. “Can’t have you getting hurt, ey?”
With one final pat, he trudges up the small hill to see…a pock-marked, smoking landscape.
It really does look like a barren battlefield.
Uh-guys-!
Oh shit.
Why-he didn’t hear about any of this? There wasn’t a battle recently, not anything to this degree.
The whole thing’s in ruin. Structures blown up to bits, nothing but scorch marks left; holes as far as the eye can see, easily a foot or two deep and reeking of explosives.
Is this-?
Shhh! Let him figure it out!
“Chat, what aren’t you tell’in me?” His hand automatically falls to his only weapon, a pickaxe, and a damn good one too if the past hour has anything to say about it. “What…is this place?”
Can’t! Sorry!
We can’t spoil the lore.
Techno starts moving through the ruined grass, making his way to the biggest plume of smoke and where most of the newest damage seems to be.
Is this some fever dream? Did his head get that banged up? The totem should’ve lessened a majority of the effects.
We’re on strict orders here!
Everyone be quiet, let him think it through.
And then Chat goes silent. Utterly and completely silent.
Techno jolts in surprise, stopping harshly, grip on the pickaxe’s handle tightening.
“Chat?”
No response.
This is new-oh, wow. Can hear my own thoughts for once.
“Chat,” he tries again, glancing over his shoulder to check his exits. All clear.
Still no response.
“Alright then, stay quiet for all I care.”
He starts walking again, grass crunching under his feet and head set on a swivel.
Something must really be amiss for them to be silent. This place has to mean something…where even is this place?
Techno pulls out his comms, looking to see what his coordinates are. He’s surprised to see that he’s not terribly far away from home. So how come he doesn’t know what this place is?
Yes, it’s a little too far from his cabin for him to venture out to, a bit further than the village he always goes to trade with, but not far enough away for him not to hear of it from the villagers. Those creatures love to gossip and make up theories about this and that, but why not this place? Is it something that they can’t even make sense of?
Some of the holes seem old, smaller than others with sediment slowly filling them back up. The grass is starting to grow back in patches and the scorch marks reduced to nothing but fertilizer for the next generation of living things.
But the smoke and the fire-that’s new. The scent of it is fresh in the air, his nose twitching at its harshness.
It gets stronger and stronger as he gets closer to the smoke cluster. He has to cover his mouth with the collar of his shirt to breathe without his lungs hitching.
Techno waves the smoke away from his face, trying to get a clearer image of where he’s going.
The dirt gives out under his boots.
He hooks his pickaxe on a ledge just in time to catch himself.
His heart stutters for a breathtaking moment as he sways, suspended in midair, without an end to this damned hole in sight.
As he hangs there, each second ticking on for eons, some of the smoke moves around enough for him to see the bottom. He breathes a sigh of relief. Looks to be an easy enough jump.
Grunting, he tugs on the pickaxe with both hands. Once, twice, then it loses its grip in the shifting soil that follows him down as he slides to the ground.
He dusts himself off, double checking that he didn’t accidentally cut himself on the way down. An infection on top of recovering from the use of a totem is not something on his to-do list.
Resting the pick on his shoulder, wiping the sweat from his forehead, he tries to figure out what he’s failing to see with all this gods-forsaken smoke.
This is definitely new, and massive. He has to walk a couple paces before he hits the other soot stained side. There’s pockets of crackling wood and items almost everywhere he looks-of what he can see down here.
He kicks a flaming wood piece out of his way, the heat simmering against his boot.
It’s hot as the Nether down here. All this trapped air and flame just sitting in this pit without any wind to stir it around. The items are not even in a good enough condition for him to scavenge for, which he would’ve greatly appreciated after losing all his stuff.
It’s almost like someone deliberately destroyed this place. Bit by bit. Piece by piece.
Strange. Very strange. And to not have heard of it happening either.
He reaches the other side again and heaves himself out, using the pick as leverage, when a breeze starts to blow, hurriedly clearing some of the smoke away.
There’s-there’s a tower of blocks. He must’ve not noticed it before due to the smog. It doesn’t seem to end as he looks further and further up, craning his neck to the sky.
This place gives him the creeps. He should just go, maybe come back later to see it better when the smoke has all cleared-
NO.
He flinches, clutching his head.
“What is wrong with you Chat!?”
Stay!
Keep looking, you’ll find something!
“I’ve looked this place over already,” he mumbles, heading back to where he left Carl.
Yeah-but not good enough!
Come on, figure it out. Put the pieces together!
“Chat, there are no pieces to put together.” He stops for a moment, splaying out his arms to gesture at the area around him. “Do you see this place? It’s a desolate, barren wasteland. I’ve got no use for it and it’s got no use for me. We should just leave it alone, we’ve got better things to do.”
Like what? Grind away in the mines forever?
Yeah! That’s s o boring, anything but that!
He deliberately ignores them, his headache picking up with his pace.
But you didn’t check the tent yet!
Techno grimaces at the realization. He did not, in fact, check the tent.
Tent!
Tenttenttenttenttenttenttenttenttenttent-
“I’ll check the tent!” he practically shouts, his nerves already fried. “Just-shut it. You’re not being helpful.”
Awwww, don’t you just love it when we’re right?
Ignoring the comment and every one that follows, he takes the path up to the tent instead of heading back to where he left Carl.
He just wants to leave and go back home to his cabin, put his horse back in his stables, check on his dogs, and take a long ass nap.
But, regardless, he carries on.
The path that he follows is beaten down, a mess of tightly packed dirt. He tries to focus on the details instead of the voices babbling and conversing about in his head.
Flowers line the path too, almost like they were deliberately planted. The only sign of someone once being here, other than what’s left of the tent and burnt structures.
He stoops to pluck a poppy from the ground, resistant to the chaos around it. Absentmindedly, he starts weaving it into the end of his messed up braid, the thoughts of planting seeds and making flower crowns bringing back fond memories tainted by bloodshed and hateful words.
He makes it to the tent before he realizes it, the dirtied piece of cloth barely even attached to its posts anymore. Though, it doesn't smell as terribly as he thought it would.
The patches of flowers surrounding the tent don’t go unnoticed before he pulls open the flap, bowing his head to make it through.
In an instant, Techno understands.
“Theseus.”
—
Techno is not supposed to be here.
How did he get here? The portal was fucking broken! Well-it was on his side, maybe not on the other?
Whatever-it doesn’t matter.
He’s not supposed to be here.
Tommy had curled up into a ball to avoid notice as soon as he saw who was coming through.
For an agonizing, terrifying moment, when he saw the particles spill out, he thought it was Dream coming back to torment him. But he said he had something to do, something important. That he wouldn’t be coming back for a while anyways, until he had figured out where he was going to relocate him to.
So why is Techno here? With his horse and without his normal netherite armor, but cheap, hastily crafted diamond instead?
He had watched carefully, laying on his stomach and peering over the edge, as his brother effortlessly navigated the land below him, easy to track with his bright pink head of hair. Tommy didn’t take his eyes off of him for a second–except when he entirely disappeared from view as he fell into the crater. He surprised himself by wincing in sympathy.
It’s so weird to see his brother again after such a long time, after the last thing really said between them being vengeance filled words on a battlefield.
Tommy had thought at the beginning, when he had first set foot onto this sorry piece of shit land, that Techno would’ve visited him. He had heard previously that Techno himself wasn’t settling too far away from his ex-...this place, in some cold biome oddly enough. His hope had died after a couple months, when everyone else seemingly stopped visiting.
His grip on the block below him tightened when his brother was not—in fact—leaving, but heading to his still standing tent. He didn’t know if Techno knew what this place was, but he would soon figure out who it belonged to when he went in there.
And that’s how he arrived here, frantically trying to figure out how to get away.
Maybe he could just jump? But Techno is right there-he can’t do that with him in the area, he’s not that stupid.
Tommy checks his inventory for anything useful. Nothing. He had specifically filled it up with blocks to get this high up and he had used every single one. He checks it again.
Breaking down those same blocks is also out of the question. It would take forever for him to get down and he would be in a perfect position to be spotted.
He could jump into the pool and then try to-to what? Run away? Where would he even go? He can’t just leave-just run away. He would be found out eventually and Dream would kill him.
Tommy’s in the middle of panicking when he sees the flap of the tent woosh open, Techno storming out. Just by his gait alone he can see he knows.
Shit shit shit shit.
He prays that he ducked in time for him not to catch a glimpse of him, his hair being a dead give away. He hopes for his bones and his skin to meld into the wood he’s crushing himself against so he’ll never be found again.
Wood.
He’s on top of wood.
How could he have not thought of that sooner?
Carefully, he starts breaking down his pillar. He just needs four for a crafting table and five more for a boat.
He can just boat off into the ocean and swing around once he loses Techno. Now he won’t really be leaving this place and he’ll lose his tail. Two birds, one stone.
His plan evaporates into thin air when he ends up three blocks short, hitting cobble.
Tommy sits back on his knees, a blank stare on his face. The numbness is starting to creep back in, the adrenaline slowly ebbing away.
Maybe…maybe he should just accept his fate. He’ll end up dying either way right? He won’t have a choice of when, but he’s still choosing who-how.
Techno is better than Dream. Dream would drag it out. Techno is less likely to–quick and dirty, but quick.
A familiar, familial face is better than-than whatever Dream is to him. And Techno would finally have his perfect mythological end of a hero.
That’s-that’s not terrible. It’s not what he wanted originally, but it’s better than any other option he can think of.
Maybe Techno won’t even think he’s here anymore. Maybe he’ll just leave and all of this can be forgotten about. Maybe this’ll all disappear like it never happened-
“Theseus Ines Craft!”
Crap.
Nevermind then. It’s happening.
“Theseus. I know you’re up there!”
He’s surprised he can even hear him from all the way up here–granted his voice is more of a mere whisper than anything else.
Tommy pokes his head over the side.
Yep, not dreaming.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing up there!?”
He blinks at his brother cursing at him.
When was the last time he heard him curse? Forever, it seems.
He flips over onto his back, staring up at the crisp sky, wishing it would whisk him away on the next gust of wind.
Maybe if he just ignores him, he’ll go away?
“Do not ignore me!” He feels a very faint tremor underneath him as his brother kicks, or maybe hits, his pillar. “You better not be doing what I think you’re doing!”
Tommy closes his eyes, the next round of yelling whispers being drowned out by a gust of wind.
“You don’t know what I’m thinking,” he whispers. “You never do.”
The breeze runs its fingers through his matted hair, a sigh passing his lips.
“Theseus!”
“Why can’t you just leave me alone,” he continues murmuring even as his brother remains oblivious to his words.
“We can talk this out!”
“Remember? Like you did back then?”
“Please, Theseus.”
“When you left me.”
“This isn’t right-this isn’t the way.”
“When you told me to die. Remember that?”
“Just-”
The rest of his sentence gets tossed and turned about in the wind.
“Because I remember,” his hands tighten around each other.
“I’m sorry! Is that what I need to say-to make you listen? I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Tommy.”
He stills at that, mouths the words.
Sorry.
Turns them over, slides them past his teeth, plays with them in his head.
I’m sorry.
Why should he accept an apology when no one ever even listened to his? When his own apologies were treated like a joke? Why should he trust such words from the Blood God? From a brother who left him–cast him out?
“Please, just come down, Theseus! So we can talk this out-talk face to face?”
Come down?
Oh he’ll come down.
Tommy doesn’t even think before he flips himself off the side of the pillar.
—
Techno’s heart had sunken when he realized who lived in this horrid place.
Techno’s heart had stopped when Chat told him where they suspected Theseus was–when he saw the flash of blond hair atop the damned pillar.
Techno’s heart is now dying–falling along with his brother on his descent to the ground.
And he can do nothing but watch in agony.
Splash!
—
Tommy doesn’t realize his mistake till the solid impact of water hits him full force, squeezing the air out of his lungs.
No-he was supposed to fall to the other side! He must’ve gotten mixed up. This wasn’t supposed to happen!
He doesn’t even struggle as he sinks to the bottom, can’t find it in himself to try. His body does, it’s instinctual for it to want to live, but he doesn’t make a conscious effort to pitch in.
Maybe-this might work too.
His vision slowly starts to darken and his lungs cough out the fluid, carelessly filling them in search of air only to take in more. The heart that was beating so fast before is grinding to a halt.
But it’s slow, so slow, too slow. It’s only a matter of time before-
A shadow looms over him from the lip of the pool, watching, assessing.
Maybe they’ll just let him die this way. It’s surprisingly peaceful when he ignores his body's attempts to save him, the pain of it all. The water’s not terribly cold.
His eyes start to flutter close of their own accord when the shadow jumps in, diving to reach him. He doesn’t have enough energy to fight back even if he wanted to. So when warm arms wrap around him, pulling him up, he does nothing-can do nothing but wait.
Tommy’s head breaks the surface and his lungs immediately kick into action, heaving the water out with coughs that wrack his body.
The shadow—Techno, he realizes a second too late—hauls him out of the water and onto the surrounding land. He feels him holding him upright, stabilizing him to aid in his body’s efforts.
Why is he going through all this trouble? Isn’t he just going to kill him?
Tommy’s throat is aching and itchy, swallowing down air like it’s never done before, by the time his system is cleared. His whole body is sore from the impact and he can feel where the bruises are going to appear within the next hour.
But he’s fine. He’s fine and he hates it.
“W-why the fuck did you do that,” he croaks, voice also wrecked to pieces. “Why didn’t you just let me-”
“Die?” Techno whispers, pulling him closer. He can practically feel his eyes rapidly scanning over him. “I-I couldn’t let you do that to yourself.”
“Oh, but you can?” Tommy twists to stare him down, any anger previously held evaporating as he sees his brother’s ashen face.
He looks like he’s just seen a ghost, all the color drained from his face filled with a tightly pinched expression.
He’s worried.
“It-I’m sorry,” Techno bites out. “I. Am. Sorry. I was wrong and I shouldn’t have ever spoken those words. They-I never meant them, okay?”
Wha-what? He can’t mean that…right?
“Just because you say you’re sorry, doesn’t mean I accept it.”
That flicker of defiance peeks its head out of the ashes, quickly ducking back under.
“That’s fine. I just wanted to make sure you heard me properly say them.”
Tommy watches him take a deep breath before falling onto the ground with a thump. His eyes close for a moment, the color slowly returning to his face.
He can’t take his eyes off of his brother, catching on each subtle movement. The steady rise and fall of his chest. The damp, pink strands stirring in the breeze. Fingers twitching, eyelids fluttering.
Techno turns to look at him, watching him watching.
“Don’t ever do that again, okay?”
Tommy nods furiously.
He closes his eyes again, sighing.
It’s been so long since he’s seen a face that wasn’t masked, that wasn’t Dream. Gods, he’s going to be in so much trouble when Dream comes back, catches his lies-
A spluttering cough rakes down his throat, disturbing the silence. Tommy bends at the waist with the force of it, another one crashing against him. It stings, harsh and knife-like. Spots bloom in his vision.
Something warm presses against his back-a hand. He flinches,
“Easy, easy,” he hears Techno murmuring.
Wet and sticky droplets splatter against his hand. Blood.
Oh, that’s not good.
He heaves in a breath, whatever blocking his access to air finally gone.
“Gods, kid.”
Tommy blinks away the spots, panting. He feels his hands being pulled away from his mouth, blood dripping onto the dirt-
Blood pools at his feet, a gash on his arm.
Drip.
“Look what you’ve done now, Tommy! What a mess!”
Drip.
The sword gets thrown into an inventory with a flash. An aggravated sigh.
Drip.
His arm burns. The cut is deep, he’s losing way too much blood. His vision twists, the world spins.
Drip.
He deserves it-
“Theseus!”
Wha-what?
“Breathe, Theseus.”
He opens his eyes. When did he close them?
Pink, he sees pink. Not green. Not Dream-no, Techno.
He isn’t here. He isn’t here.
Tommy gasps. His chest aches.
“There you go. Again.”
He struggles to take another breath.
“In for four, hold for seven, out for eight.”
A tapping pace resonates on his chest. He tries to follow, he tries, he really tries. His lungs seize.
“It’s alright. Try again. Focus on your surroundings, Theseus. Remember? Ground yourself.”
He-he remembers.
It’s warm, he’s wet, his clothes are sticking to his skin. Everything aches. Pink hair to his left, something solid against his back. A damp flower at the end of a braid, petals limp.
He inhales.
“Good, that’s good. Keep going.”
He exhales.
A sharp whistle pierces the ringing in his ears. He jolts, throat tightening.
“It’s all good, you’re doing good. Just calling the horse.”
He focuses on the beat drumming against his chest.
It registers mutely in his head that he’s having a panic attack, that he just had a flashback, that Techno’s voice has a panicked edge to it.
Maybe-maybe he can rest. Just for a bit.
He slowly, carefully slumps against his brother, the tension lining his every muscle taking too much energy for him to handle.
“You're alright. It’s all good. I got you.”
Something clicks back into place with those words, something right and wrong and whole.
Tommy breathes. In and out, in and out.
His vision starts to focus, the spots slowly disappearing. He notices how bad he’s shaking, how it’s starting to lessen. How his brother is holding him, back to chest, arm wrapped loosely around. He tenses at that.
A branch snaps.
His breath hitches, a weak cough the only protest.
Dream-
There’s the thump of hooves, the huffing of a horse.
“It’s just Carl, Thes,” Techno says reassuringly.
Carl-Carl the horse. Not him.
Tommy takes a shuddering breath. He’s tired-when isn’t he tired. This is not how today was supposed to go-
He feels himself being lifted off the ground, eyes snapping open, and his first instinct is to struggle. Techno’s arms tighten around him, a silent warning. He stills.
“It’s alright, I’m just putting you on the horse,” he huffs.
“‘m sorry,” Tommy mumbles.
“You’re fine, no need to apologize,” then quieter, as if talking to himself, “I feel like I’m going to have to ban that word.”
He opens his mouth to say something, but quickly closes it. His questions stay rooted in his throat.
Why are you going through this much trouble? Aren’t you just going to kill me anyways?
Why apologize? Why save him from drowning, a coughing fit, and a panic attack? There’s got to be a limit somewhere?
Carl stays perfectly still while they get on. Well, more like Techno gets on and Tommy gets put on.
“Let’s go home, Theseus.”