Predator (DWT x OC)

74

"I wish it had been me."

I have to hold in the sobs that are bubbling in my chest, the rage that curls like a thrashing, blazing snack underneath my skin, sticks the vein out in my temple, that turns my eyes bloodshot, that anger at the world, at them, at Schlatt, at Fundy, at me, at every single fucking thing that hurt him, that didn't protect him.

"He would have never let that happen." I squeeze his hand even tighter. "He loved you so much, that's what he wanted, not for you to die. I would have done the same thing."

"You- I'm not worth that. I'm not worth you dying."

"I would die in a heartbeat for you, I would do it every fucking opportunity I got, and if it had been me on that podium, I would have done the exact same thing. I love you so fucking much, of course you're worth that. I would pay that price every single time. Every time." 

"I don't deserve that, I never deserved that, he shouldn't have died for me."

"You have always deserved that Tubs, and he believed that too." I wipe a stray tear from his cheek with my thumb. "It's not fair that he had to die, but he wanted to save you, because he loves you and he wants you to have a chance at living you life. You deserve that, so fucking much, so much more than you know."

"You do too." His voice is fainter, fight and grief dying inside of him as the alludes of that blissful nothingness of unconscious call his name, pulling him back under. I let him go.

"Thanks." I whisper, moving my other hand from his cheek to tangle with his slackening fingers. "It's okay, go back to sleep Tubs, I've got you."

"You- you'll stay?" He asks, eyes half lidded. 

"Of course." I smile, even though it hurts. "I'm not going anywhere."

I manage to bandage him up while he rests, cleaning out debris and ash, scorched skin and pebbles clinging to open sores, treat what I need to with antibiotic ointments, wrap up the rest from the dirt and dust of the cave. 

He'll survive, but I don't know if he'll be okay, and I think that's what scares me the most.

"How is he?" Wilbur's voice accompanies a skittering of loose stone across smooth granite, bouncing off the jagged carved walls that loom over us. 

I sigh, looking over the sleeping boy, worry lines smoothed in sleep. "Doing his best."

"How bad?" Wilbur asks, and his voice is so cold and detached, like it isn't a boy that's like his goddamn son lying in front of him, so clinical I want to stand up and slap him as hard has I can, smack sense back into his thick skull, scream and yell and pound my fists on his chest because he is slipping away from us, just like last time, and I just want him, just once, to fucking fight.

"He'll end up blind in one eye, but thankfully the burns he got aren't that deep. Scorched some skin off but no major nerve or other damage underneath it. He'll heal, physically."

Wilbur hums flatly under his breath, crossing his arms. "Physically?"

"I mean you don't just go back to being the same when the one person who was there for you in some of the most terrifying moments of your life is blown up in front of you. We know what happens when people go through too much, more than their humanity can handle."

"Yeah, we do." Wilbur sniffs, eyes boring into me.

"Oh we do." I agree, returning his unnerving gaze. 

"Gonna be as bad as you?"

"Hand him back over to Schlatt and then we'll see." I respond flatly, and I almost want to roll my eyes. Ah Wilbur, you insecure neurotic little man, with your fragile individuality, those delicate little dreams, how you can never seem to wrap you head around the fact that this world is designed to crush them. 

The second time round doesn't even hurt anymore, it's getting predictable.

"How's Dream?"

I shrug. "How am I supposed to know? I escaped from him like four days ago."

"You escaped?"

"Wilbur go talk about your feelings to a goddamn fucking wall or something, because I am not in the fucking mood to deal with your shit right now." I snap, standing up. "We've been over this, and I am not going to tolerate you questioning my loyalty, after everything I have done for this country, after everything I have been through. Get the fuck over yourself"

"Everyone turned their backs on us, you did and Tubbo did, and Niki too, and Tommy wants to forgive you, but I know, I know! You are here to destroy me!" The feral, untamed glint in his eyes would have been scary, but it just makes me sad. 

"Not everything is about you." 

"I am the leader of L'manburg, I am-"

"That's the thing Wilbur, you're not! You're not the leader! Half the country thinks you're dead, and the other half voted you out, no one fucking cares about that anymore Wilbur, you are not as important as you think you are." I'm still stuck by Tubbo's bed, screaming at a deranged man in his basement.  "I am not here for you, I am here because my family is here, the people I love are here."

Finally, the man has seemed to be rendered speechless. 

"And I love you, and you are my family too, and I am so glad to know you're alive. But you know Wilbur, I have proven beyond anything I should have had to, that I will not betray this country, or our family, and you fucking know that. Don't you dare, don't you dare sit here and pretend like that's not true."

The silence passes in steady beats, the thump of my heart in my head, stretching between us while Wilbur looks at me, eyes a muddled mess of confusion and hurt and reflection, shoulders slumped in defeat. 

"I'm glad he's going to be okay."

"Yeah, me too."

"Thank you Rose."

"Don't thank me Wil, just get your shit together, for him, and for all of us."

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A/N Are we a fan of these longer 3000 word chapters? Or do we prefer around the 1000 mark? Let me know if these are too long and drawn out.

We are beginning to see a genuine reflection in Rosie, she has been shut off from the old parts of her that let her get hurt, but Quackity's death has been a cause for some very deep reflection which is pushing her journey along. Will she get there? Or will she shut herself off to protect herself again? That's the big question. 

I hope you enjoyed, 

Oopsies x