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Tommy was gone.
He was dead.
He’d died alone and in pain and no one had lifted a finger to help him.
He’d died screaming for mercy, trapped under the painful hands of his abuser until he couldn’t beg through the blood flooding his mouth.
He’d died black and blue, eyes wide in fear, unspoken apologies on his lips, and terror in his heart.
Tommy was dead.
Tommy had been a hero.
He gave up his discs to earn his country’s independence. He threw himself to the wolves to save his new friend from punishment. He tried and he tried and he tried to be a good person.
Tommy was a child.
But now Tommy was dead.
And no one cared.
Tommy was gone, and it seemed Tommy himself was the only one to give a shit.
That’s fine.
Attachments brought him nothing but pain anyway.
Sam sat at his desk near the entrance of the prison, head in his hands. Tommy was dead. He’d been dead for two days, and Sam could do nothing to get to his broken body. Dream kept taunting him through the cameras, cackling and waving Tommy’s limp arm until Sam snapped and punched the monitor.
Tubbo and Ranboo were growing more and more insistent on the release of their friend. But Tommy was gone, and Sam couldn’t bring him back. He didn’t want to see their devastated faces. He didn’t want to become another harbinger of grief for these poor kids.
He hadn’t moved since he heard Tommy’s screams give out. He didn’t have the motivation to do so.
Tommy was dead, and he had done nothing to prevent it.
Sam’s communicator buzzed—a message from Dream most likely—and Sam growled, smoke easing from his nose at the snarl. With teary eyes and a heavy heart, Sam slowly turned over the communicator, prepared to block Dream’s contact and let the man rot.
One single message glared back at him on the screen.
It wasn’t from Dream.
TommyInnit: I’m back.
Dream quivered in the corner of his cell, arms wrapped around himself protectively. Across the room, burning, dark eyes watched him with the focus of a predator.
Daring to speak, Dream whispered, “what are you?”
The thing across from him smiled with too many teeth, lips widened beyond human normalcy until its gums were on display. “It’s me,” the thing answered, voice echoing unnaturally in the tiny room, “your best friend.”
Dream shook his head. “No,” he murmured, terrified, “no, you’re not.”
The thing frowned, tilting its head to the side in apparent question. “That’s rude,” it said, words grating on Dream’s ears, “I thought we were friends, Dream.”
Dream breathed in shakily, almost choking on a desperately swallowed sob of fear. “Please,” he begged, “I’m so sorry.”
The thing grinned again, and its teeth were sharpened to thin, serrated points. Its predatory gaze had narrowed to something darker.
“No, you’re not.”
Sam jolted from his chair upon reading the message, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he lunged for the lever that opened the entrance to the inside sections of the prison. As soon as the pistons quieted down and the doorway stood open, Sam halted in his steps.
“…Tommy?” Sam asked, squinting his eyes against the bright light of flowing lava.
Tommy tilted his head, his neck twisting at an angle that was just a bit too far to be natural.
“Tommy, how did you..?” Sam continued, stepping across the threshold to reach the boy when a deep jolt of instinctual fear shot down his spine.
“You…” Sam began, his steps faltering as he processed the boy in front of him.
“Sam,” Tommy began, voice flat and uncanny, “why did you leave me in there.”
Sam’s lower lip quivered, “I didn’t mean—“
Sam blinked and Tommy was standing inches in front of him, the boy having moved closer with inhuman speed. Sam yelped and stumbled back, failing to catch himself as he fell to the floor with a huff.
“What did I do, Sam?” Tommy asked, tears flowing down his cheeks, leaving lines between the faint traces of blood across his skin. “Why did you let him hurt me?”
“You were supposed to be okay,” Sam choked out, heaving in a shaky breath, “I didn’t think he would do anything.”
Tommy gasped out a sob, eyes blindingly bright, “Did I deserve it, Sam? Why did you let him kill me, Sam?!”
“I’m sorry!” Sam shouted, cries raking his form, “I tried to save you! Please, I tried!”
Tommy went quiet, sobs abruptly cutting off until silence filled the air.
“Liar.”
“Tommy?” Phil questioned, peering out the window into the snowy white plains.
A few feet away, Techno raised a brow in question. “Tommy? What’s he doing here?”
Phil simply shrugged his shoulders in response. “He looks weird.”
Techno snorted, shutting his book. “He always looks weird, that’s Tommy.”
Phil hummed and let the curtain fall back over the glass of the window. “Do you think he’ll want to come inside?”
“Doesn’t matter, I won’t let him in,” Techno answered, rolling his eyes and leaning back in his chair.
A knock sounded from the door, quiet and almost hesitant.
Techno shook his head, “Go away, Theseus, you aren’t welcome here.”
Silence.
Techno raised his head towards the door. “I won’t tell you twice.”
Silence.
The knock on the door suddenly increased to a desperate pounding, the wood of the door shaking on the creaking hinges.
“Shit,” Phil exclaimed, taking a step towards the door in apparent eagerness to open it.
Techno growled, throwing an arm out to halt the man in his steps, “Tommy, enough!”
The pounding on the door ceased.
“Do you hate me that much, Techno?” A voice sounded from behind the door, muffled from the obstruction.
Techno tensed, standing slowly.
“You betrayed me, Theseus,” he answered, “this is your penance.”
“Don’t you think I’ve been punished enough, Lycomedes?”
Techno froze in place, eyes widening at the comparison. Phil blinked next to him, anguish written on his features. The blond spoke, “Tommy, what—“
“How much do I need to lose, Lycomedes?” Tommy continued, voice airy and far away, “How much pain must I go through?”
Techno shook his thoughts away, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re being ridiculous…”
A harsh bang on the door cut off his words, “let me in, Techno.” Tommy’s voice had gone darker, coated in anger and dripping with venom.
Techno stood silent, Phil beside him in equal hesitance.
“Let me in, let me in, let me in, let mE IN, LET ME IN, LET ME IN, LET ME IN—“ Tommy screamed, the banging on the door continuing until the hinges snapped and the wooden fixture slammed into the wall.
Techno dove towards the couch, dragging Phil alongside him to shield the man from the wooden pieces that chipped from the broken door.
When they both opened their eyes, the doorway was empty. Twin bloody handprints left smears of red on the outside of the broken door.
Jack cowered behind a half-built wall, hands over his mouth to quiet his rapid breathing. Niki sat beside him, tears in her eyes as she peered over the wall in anticipation. Down the hall, foot steps echoed.
“Jack?” Tommy’s voice rang out, his tone so different from how he usually sounded. “Niki?”
Niki and Jack looked towards one another. Jack shook his head. Niki lowered herself back behind the wall, her own hands coming to rest over her mouth.
“I thought you wanted this?” Tommy continued, words almost a snarl. “Didn’t you want me dead?”
Jack squeezed his eyes shut at Tommy’s words. Niki choked down a sob.
“Can’t you bear to look at what you caused?!” The boy shouted, much closer to their hiding place than he had previously been.
Niki was a bit too slow to cover her frightened yelp.
Tommy suddenly went quiet. Jack’s eyes widened, his gaze flying around to watch for an unseen predator.
Without warning, a hand appeared over the wall and dug into Niki’s sweaty hair. The girl screamed in terror, yanking her head away before falling to the floor on the other side of the dilapidated room. Jack quickly followed, jolting from his seated position to place himself protectively in front of Niki.
Bright blue eyes glared at them from over the wall, pupils pinpricks, a wide smile splitting Tommy’s face in two.
“Your fault, Niki!” Tommy cackled, beginning to climb over the wall. “Your fault, Jack!” The boy collapsed over the wall, limbs landing awkwardly, before he scrambled across the ground towards the two.
“Look at me!” Tommy snapped, hand landing around Jack’s ankle, laughing loudly before he yanked the man closer to him.
“Michael, who are you talking to?” Tubbo sleepily asked, rubbing his eyes as his son turned from where the boy was mumbling into the darkness.
The tiny Piglin snorted, his ears perking up, “Mimi!”
Tubbo paused, blinked, and sat up straighter, nudging Ranboo awake in the process. “Who’s Mimi, Mikey?”
Ranboo yawned, stretching his arms up and answering, “Mimi is Michael’s nickname for Tommy,” before Michael could speak again.
Tubbo jolted, “what? Michael, where’s Mimi?”
The Piglin tilted his head in confusion, pointing into the darkness. “Right here, papa.”
Ranboo and Tubbo looked towards the darkened corner of the room, looking for any signal of movement before looking back towards their son.
“Michael, honey, Mimi isn’t here, okay?” Ranboo spoke softly, holding his arms out to the Piglin child.
Michael snorted angrily, stomping his foot down on the floor where he was standing. “No! Mimi’s here! He’s mad at you.”
Tubbo narrowed his brows, confused. “Mad? Michael, why is Tommy mad?”
Michael looked down at the floor, clearly hesitant, before he looked back towards the dark corner, lifting his ear like he was listening to someone talking. After a long moment, Michael turned back to his parents with a tusked frown. “He says you left him.”
Tubbo blinked in response, “What—“
“He says you left him all alone,” Michael continued, his voice taking in an eerie quality, “why did you leave him, papa? He was so scared. He called for you, but you weren’t there.”
Ranboo stood from the bed and walked over to his son. “Michael, I think that’s enough, you’re scaring us.”
Michael flinched away from Ranboo’s hands, “Why did you leave him? He helped you, daddy! He loved you both and you left him! Why?! He loved you!” The boy collapsed in Ranboo’s arms, sobbing.
The Piglin continues to cry into Ranboo’s arms, mumbling small declarations of “he loved you” as he wept.
Ranboo could only look up at his husband, confused and scared all in one. And Tubbo could only stare back, something like guilt rising in his chest.
Someone was in her house, and they were crying.
Puffy had just gotten home from checking in on Foolish when the pained sobs echoed from her bedroom. She didn’t quite recognize who was crying by the sound, but they seemed young, and that narrowed down her search. It was when she heard the person take in a hitched breath that she realized the familiarity.
Placing down some of her tools and shrugging off her coat, Puffy walked further into the house with quiet foot steps.
“Tommy?” She asked into the air, “are you okay?”
The crying didn’t stop, only growing louder as she crept closer to her open bedroom door. When she was finally close enough, she pushed the door open softly, prepared to help the young boy from his anguish.
Tommy was in the middle of her bed in the fetal position, sobbing violently into his own arms.
“Tommy,” she said again, reaching a hand out towards the boy.
In response, Tommy screamed out a wretched cry, his voice practically shredding his throat. The poor thing writhed on the bed, tears pouring down his cheeks as he gasped for air.
“Why?” He shouted, banging his closed fists down onto the blanket, “why can’t I be happy?”
Puffy felt her heart sink, and she lowered herself to sit on the edge of the bed a couple feet away from the sobbing boy.
“Oh, Tommy, honey,” she whispered soothingly, “what happened, sweetheart?”
Tommy simply cried out again, heart wrenching sobs that shook the room and knocked a few picture frames off the walls.
Puffy reached for Tommy on instinct, “Tommy, you need to calm down—“
The boy heaved a cry, and Puffy could only shout in protest as she found herself slammed back against the wall. Her spine hit the hard surface and she gasped for the air that had been knocked out of her.
Still on her bed, Tommy had risen up on his knees, mouth open in a blood curdling scream as the house shook around them. And Puffy could only watch, an invisible force holding her down and forcing her to witness the boys breakdown.
Tommy hummed quietly, weaving the stems of two flowers together as he painstakingly continued his little crown of alliums and orchids. Beside him, his mother sat, running her gentle hands through his hair while he worked.
“I’m sorry you were hurt, darling,” his mother whispered, her voice soft yet powerful.
“It’s okay,” Tommy answered, pausing in his flower weaving, “I’ll be alright.”
His mother hummed, “maybe so. But you still don’t deserve what happened to you.”
Tommy snapped the last piece of a stem in place, smiling as he stood to place the finished flower crown on his mother’s head. The flowers stood out against her dark hair nicely.
“You look pretty,” Tommy said, smiling as his mom adjusted the crown on her head.
His mother smiled, “thank you, love.”
A moment of comfortable silence before Tommy frowned. “I have to go back, don’t I?”
His mother mirrored his frown, but her eyes remained soft and loving. “Yes, Tommy,” she answered, “it’s not yet your time.”
Tommy sighed, sinking to the ground beside her again. “Do you think anyone even noticed I was gone?” He asked, more to himself than her.
Nevertheless, his mother tensed for a moment. “Yes,” she said in response, voice darker than before, “I’m sure everyone noticed.”
“Everyone?”
“Sometimes,” his mother continued, “it takes a bit of change to make people realize the gift they possessed. And you, my dear, are one such gift.”
Tommy cocked his head to the side, confused. “What do you mean?”
“When you return, darling, people will finally treat you the way you should have always been treated,” she said, “like your mother’s son.”
She leaned down and placed a kiss on his forehead, smiling softly. “And now they will know to not mess with my little godling.”
Tommy’s vision blurred as he fell into his mother’s arms, the fabricated world of limbo falling apart around him as he was slowly coaxed back to life.
Blinking away the sunlight from limbo, Tommy sat up on the cold floor of the prison, looking around for the unwanted presence of Dream. The man was sitting on the opposite side of the room, curled up in fear, eyes blown wide.
Beside Tommy, his communicator sat undisturbed.
Looking back at Dream, Tommy shivered at the surge of power he felt flood through his veins. Had he been here before?
He picked up his communicator to message Sam, typing out a brief and succinct sentence to let the man know he was there.
After he sent the message, he placed his communicator down, turning his attention back to the man trapped in the cell with him.
The message delivered.
TommyInnit: I’m back.