Author's Note

Epilogue

Thomas is running through the corridors, panting, heart in his throat and eyes darting dramatically everywhere. All he can see are white walls, damp walls, walls with holes in them and mould growing. All he can hear is the thrumming of his heart in his ears and the steps of Keith and Lucy running behind him.

They turn around a corner, and Thomas almost stops with relief at the sight, at the large gap in the wall where two doors clearly used to be, but he doesn't stop, rushing through them with his two accomplices in tow, and it's only then that he stops, takes in the sight. Every single moment has been leading up to this moment and he sighs with relief, because he hasn't wasted his time, he and Keith were going to achieve something that would be talked about for centuries and finally, they could rest.

In front of him is a machine, a huge one, one that he's seen millions of times over and over each night, in the middle of a huge hall that he's been in over and over again. It's silver, chipping bronze with age, with tubes pushing into the tiles around it. This thing is huge, he'll never get over it's size.

With a familiar feeling of dread, Thomas does exactly what he knows will happen next. He remembers it, the adrenaline rush he felt, and each time he does the guilt rams right into his chest and makes it difficult for him to breathe. He, without even sparing a second thought, starts sprinting towards this monster of a machine, ignoring the deja vu, ignoring how he knows what's going to happen, ignoring the cries of his friends behind him. It's not like he wants to ignore them, not at all; internally, he's screaming at himself to stop, to look around, to think about what he's doing, but his body never listens, and the next thing he knows, he can hear a huge thudding noise against the tiles.

Looking up, Thomas's eyes meet that of a lizard that towers above him, glaring at him, eyes yellow and hungry and before he can even move, before he can register what's going on, pain erupts in his side and he's shoved out of the way, and he watches with dreading eyes as Keith's sword swings over his head and the claw of the reptile slashes across his face.

Thomas awakes with a start, jolting up in his bed, panting heavily and eyes wide with fear. He's shaking, body trembling violently, coated in sweat. His throat feels dry and he heaves in breaths, blinking back tears, chest an inferno of pain. Thomas chokes slightly, coughing, hugging himself and shaking. Darkness envelops him, the room is pitch black, and that does nothing to quell the fear crawling up all of Thomas's limbs.

An arm wraps around his waist and Thomas's breath catches in his throat. He feels someone sleepily nuzzling into his side.

"Tommy..." Keith's groggy voice says in the darkness. "Nightmare again...?"

Thomas nods softly, and despite the fact that he knows Keith can't see him, he's sure he's fully aware of it. Keith sighs tiredly and gently eases Thomas to lie down, other arm then snaking around his waist and pulling him into him. Thomas follows the movement exhaustedly, resting his head on Keith's firm chest, hearing his slow heartbeat next to his ear. Fingers trail up his side, nudging up his shirt and tracing soothing patterns onto his skin. Thomas swallows, but finds himself relaxing.

"I'm not going anywhere, doofus," Keith whispers sleepily. "I'm not dead, I'm still alive and I'm still here. I'm not leaving. Now calm down and go back to sleep."

Thomas lays there in silence for a moment, not shutting his eyes and just staring into the black, taking in Keith's words. He knows he's right, he knows Keith isn't lying, and yet...

"You know it's my fault, right?"

Keith sighs and shifts slightly, lets out a little noise of tiredness.

"No," he says, voice husky from sleep. "It isn't."

"It is. I was rash and I should've waited to-"