126.
"TUBBO!" Tommy's voice echoed through the mansion, frantic and borderline terrified. "TUBBO, HELP!"
Tubbo dropped the trinket he'd been tinkering with. "TOMMY!" he screamed, ripping an axe from his inventory and dashing into the hall. "WHERE ARE YOU?!"
"IN HERE!"
Tubbo skidded to a stop in front of the guest room, heart thundering in his ears. He slammed the door open, half-expecting to see blood.
He was met instead with the sight of a wide-eyed Tommy, standing stiff and stock-still in the middle of the room. "Help," he begged.
Tubbo raked his gaze over Tommy. He didn't seem to be injured, there wasn't anything obvious causing him distress, so what--
Oh.
Tubbo let his axe dispel in a flash of light. "Tommy, you-- I thought you were in danger!"
"I am in danger," Tommy protested. "There's a small child clinging to my leg, Tubbo, do you not see him--"
Tubbo relaxed as the last dregs of adrenaline drained away. "Michael's not going to hurt you."
"I might hurt him!" Tommy was practically vibrating with nervousness. "And I can't move until he gets off because I might kick him!"
Tubbo snorted. "He does it to Ranboo all the time. He won't get hurt."
"Tubboooooo," Tommy whined. Tubbo let out an exasperated sigh.
"Michael, let go of your uncle."
Michael blinked up at him and chuffed. He did not release his death grip on Tommy's leg.
Tubbo couldn't help the grin that tugged at his lips. "Sorry Tommy, his English isn't the best." He turned and began moving out of the room. "He'll eventually detach himself. Just do the best you can."
"Wh-- Tubbo, I can't do sh-- anything with him on my leg!"
"You can still walk, you'll be fine. Ask Boo for tips if you need more help."
"TUBBO!"
127.
His communicator buzzed. Dream pulled it out, catching Tommy's name as it flashed across the screen. "Sorry," he told George. "I have to take this."
George shrugged, turning away. Dream hurried out of hearing distance before he pressed the communicator to his ear. "What?"
"Dream, I've made a mistake."
Dream closed his eyes. ". . . What did you do this time?"
Tommy let out a nervous laugh. "So, uh, I may or may not have turned Fundy into a kid."
"Okay? Just give him milk."
"I can't. . . really do that."
Deep breaths. Deep, deep breaths. He was the epitome of calm. "And why can't you do that?"
"Haha, uh, um, Sapnap and Punz were there and theymighthavekidnappedhim?"
Dream took a moment to parse that out. Then he took another moment to check that his internal screaming hadn't upgraded to external screaming. Thankfully, it hadn't. Yet.
"Tommy."
"I knooooow," Tommy groaned. "Just like-- bring him back, yeah? I'll fix it--"
"Tommy," Dream growled.
"Whoops Wil's calling me! Just send Fundy back, great thanks bye!"
His communicator beeped, signifying that the call had ended. Dream stared blankly ahead and questioned all of his life choices.
~~~
"Sapnap. Punz. Why do you have a child?"
"Hi!" The aforementioned child beamed up at him with a smile bright and sparkly enough to outshine Tommy on drugs. Dream twitched. "I'm Fundy!"
"He's Fundy," Sapnap added unnecessarily. Punz hoisted Fundy a little higher up from where he was dangling by the back of his now-oversized shirt.
Dream took a deep breath. "Okay, first of all just-- put him. Down. Put him on the ground before you drop him."
Punz sheepishly complied, gently lowering Fundy to the ground. The fox hybrid proceeded to sit down on the grass and stare up at all of them with wide eyes.
"Did you guys kidnap Fundy?" George asked incredulously. "Why the fuck is he a-- a child?"
"No idea," Punz admitted. "Tommy dropped a potion on him, I think, but I've never seen a potion do that before."
Dream removed his mask so he could pinch the bridge of his nose. "Why did you take him?"
Sapnap and Punz glanced at each other. ". . . Information?"
"Right, and--" Dream glanced at the six-year-old headache that had somehow acquired George's goggles and was now folding and unfolding them with fascination. "--how exactly is he supposed to know anything?"
"Look, it was a heat-of-the-moment kind of thing, okay?"
"Then take him back."
"But we went through all this trouble to get him!"
Dream dragged a hand down his face. "I need a vacation," he muttered. "Okay, fine, ask him a couple questions if you want. We're sending him back afterwards."
"Right, kid--" Sapnap crouched down next to Fundy and offered him a sharp smile. "We need to know your dad's weaknesses."
Fundy blinked at him. "Why?"
"Because. . . because, uh. . ."
"We're going to play a prank on him," Punz said. "Nothing too serious."
Sapnap jabbed a thumb in Punz's direction. "What he said."
"Oh, okay!" Fundy beamed. "His weakness, right? Um, if you stab him, he gets hurt."
Dead silence.
"I mean, he's not wrong?" George's statement sounded more like a question. Dream disguised his laugh as a cough. Punz turned away, shoulders shaking.
Sapnap's eye twitched, but his smile stayed steady. "Does he have any other weaknesses?"
Fundy thought harder, his face scrunching up. "Mmm. . . ah! If you shoot him, he also gets hurt!" He folded his arms over his chest, looking very pleased with himself.
Dream's coughing turned into full-blown wheezing. Sapnap not-so-subtly kicked him in the shin. "Anything else?" he ground out.
"Well, if you punch him--"
Sapnap buried his face in his hands. "Just take him back."
Punz, smirking widely, stepped forward to comply.
128. (credit to Starshifting (Star) and ThisIsEmius (deci))
Sam shifted, subtly trying to stretch out an ache in his back. "Um. . . Tommy, are you done?"
"Almost," Tommy said. He narrowed his eyes at Sam and jabbed his green-tipped paintbrush at him. "Hold still, I can see you shuffling."
Sam sighed, resigning himself to back pain for the rest of the day. In truth, it was a small price to pay to see Tommy's joy as he slashed his brush across the canvas. It had been a long time since he'd seen Tommy so happy.
"Done!" Tommy spun the canvas around, beaming. "Whaddya think?"
Sam stared at the painting he'd sacrificed fifteen minutes and his spine for. Said painting displayed a green stick man, captioned "BITCH" in neon red.
Tommy patted the canvas affectionately. "My proudest work so far, I think. Really captures your likeness."
Sam wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. Maybe a bit of both. "Tommy--"
Tommy held out his hand. "And that'll be sixty diamonds for this amazing portrait, Sam, pay up!"
"I--"
"Can't pay?" Tommy gasped in mock horror. "Too bad, people who don't pay get glitter!"
Sam paused. "Glitter?"
"Glitter," Tommy confirmed, right before he chucked a glitter bomb at Sam's feet and ran like hell.
~~~
Quackity grunted, sliding his foot an inch to the left so there was less pressure on his ankle. "How much-- longer are you going to make me-- stay in this pose?"
"Not much longer," Dream replied absently, his brush whizzing across the paper.
"You can do it, Q!" Karl cheered from the sidelines. "I believe in you!"
Quackity narrowed his eyes at him-- or, as best as he could without turning his head. "Are you sure this looks cool? Because I feel fuckin' stupid."
"You always look cool!"
"Yeah," Sapnap snickered from his position behind Dream. He not-so-subtly raised his communicator and snapped a picture. "Really cool."
Quackity's eyes narrowed further. ". . . Sapnap--"
"Done!" Dream turned his canvas around. "So what do you think?"
"Thank Prime," Quackity muttered, dropping the pose. He rubbed his aching neck as he staggered over, squinting at the painting.
Rather than Quackity's portrait, the canvas displayed an alarmingly detailed depiction of a hand with the middle finger raised. "~𝒻𝓊𝒸𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊~" curled across the top in sparkly green calligraphy.
"It's perfect," Sapnap said, sounding like he was trying very hard not to laugh.
Quackity jabbed an accusatory finger at Dream. "You made me go through fifteen different poses for nothing!"
"I mean, it was for a reason, just not the one you were thinking," Karl offered. He squinted at the painting. ". . . You know, he actually does draw decent hands."
"Betrayed by my own fiances," Quackity lamented, though there was no heat in his voice. "I'm never going to recover from this--"
Sapnap punched him in the shoulder. "Stop being a drama queen," he ordered, then slung an arm over Quackity's shoulders and turned to Dream. "So how much for the painting?"
Dream grinned. "Hang it up in your house and I'll give it to you for free."
"Deal."
"Sapnap," Quackity complained. He was ignored.
"I think it's a great deal!" Karl chirped. He pulled the painting off the easel with some difficulty, then held it up so the other two could see it better. "Look, this'll go great with the couch!"
"We're not hanging that above the couch--"
"Oh, we definitely are." Sapnap offered Dream a sharp-toothed smirk as he grabbed Quackity by the shoulders and steered him away. "Pleasure doing business with you, Dream. If you get any more blackmail on Quackity, feel free to call!"
"I hate you," Quackity realized. "I actually hate all of you."
"Aw Q!" Karl maneuvered one arm around the painting so he could pat Quackity on the head. "We love you too!"
129. remix, pt. 8 (inspired by ProcrastinatingMilk)
"I already told you, I can get Phil out on my own--"
"Like how you faced the butcher army on your own?"
Technoblade sighed. "You were going to collapse two hours ago--"
"I drank a strength potion and got better." Dream frowned at him. "We've had this conversation, we're already here, there's no point in arguing."
Technoblade muttered something under his breath before falling silent.
They skirted around the houses, finally reaching the edge of the main plaza. Technoblade stopped short at the sight of the anvil hanging high over the cage, something that seemed out of place in the otherwise picturesque nation. "What is that?"
Dream shrugged, catching a flash of orange in the corner of his vision. Weighing the pros and cons, he decided not to say anything. They'd agreed that the only scripted thing about this loop would be his story from Exile, so if Fundy ran off to alert the Butcher Army. . . or Tommy. . . it would make things interesting.
Technoblade hadn't seen the fox hybrid, too caught up in staring at the platform looming over them. "What is this?" he repeated.
"Execution platform," Dream answered, scenes of golden light flashing through his mind. He'd seen Technoblade's execution over twenty times by now. "Probably for you."
Technoblade's hands tightened into fists. "'Fair trial'," he muttered, then whipped around and marched towards Philza's house. "Let's get out of here."
Dream sent one last glance towards where Fundy had been hiding, then followed.
~~~
"The catacombs?" Technoblade asked. He took the bundle of items Philza shoved in his direction and began shuffling them into the bags sitting on the floor. "What are those?"
"Mineshafts," Philza answered, his gaze sweeping across the room. "Beneath my house. We can use them to escape."
Dream straightened up from where he had been rummaging through a chest, holding aloft a bundle of what appeared to be letters. "Phil, did you want to take this too?"
"I knew I was forgetting something!" Philza swept the papers from Dream's hands and hurried over to Technoblade. Technoblade took them, brow crinkling.
"Are these--"
"From her, yeah."
Technoblade handed the letters back. "Keep them in your inventory. They might get damaged in the bags."
"Who--?" Dream started, only to be cut off by a noise outside.
The muffled sound of an enderpearl shattering set them all on high alert. A moment later, heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs.
Philza was already moving, sweeping the bags out of view before heading towards the door. Technoblade and Dream slipped into the bedroom and shut the door.
Technoblade pried the closet open. "Get in," he whispered, but Dream shook his head.
"We won't both fit in there. I'll get an invis and hide under the bed--"
A door slammed outside, followed by the crash of breaking glass. Philza's voice went silent. Technoblade's head whipped around, but before he could do anything, Dream shoved him into the closet and shut the door. Dream then dove for the bed, wedging himself underneath it while fumbling with his inventory. His fingers closed around a bottle and he yanked it out, struggling to pop the cork with one hand. His elbow whacked against the bedframe. He hissed and the bottle dropped from hand, rolling across the floor and clinking to a stop against the wall below the windowsill.
The bedroom door slammed open. Dream heard Philza make a sound of protest.
"I know you're in here," Tommy murmured. Dream watched his boots as they clomped into the room, mentally calculating if he could drink an invisibility potion. Tommy was currently facing away from him, but if he pulled something from his inventory, he'd definitely see the flash of light. He just had to lay here and pray he didn't get caught.
Tommy paused beside the window-- and the discarded invisibility potion laying under it. Then he turned and ambled over to the bed. His boots stopped a mere foot away from Dream's hand. Dream stared at them, holding his breath.
A smiley mask lowered into his range of vision, underscored by a smile full of teeth. "Found you."
A hand closed around his arm, dragging him out from beneath the bed. Dream summoned his sword and slashed at Tommy, but the teenager grabbed his wrist and twisted. Dream cursed as his weapon slipped from his fingers, and Tommy laughed, victorious, right before Technoblade barreled into him. The piglin hybrid ripped them apart, all but hurling Tommy away. The teenager crashed into the far wall, drawing his sword just in time to block Technoblade's. He ducked and pushed, forcing Technoblade back, then lunged for Dream.
Technoblade intercepted him, eyes burning. He knocked Tommy away with a well-timed kick. "Go," he ordered.
"Where?" Dream retorted, glancing back at Tommy, who had staggered to his feet. "He's in the door--"
Technoblade shattered the glass window with one strike of his elbow and shoved Dream out of it. Dream didn't even have time to scream. He hit the ground, rolled wrong, and came up with protesting ribs and a twisted ankle. Stumbling to his feet, he was barely five feet away when Tommy landed where he'd been, sword drawn.
"Come here!" Tommy screamed.
"Fuck no," Dream retorted, pulling out the last weapon in his inventory - a crossbow - and pointed it at Tommy's face. "One more step and I'll shoot."
Tommy opened his mouth to respond, then leapt aside, narrowly dodging Technoblade's attack. The piglin hybrid didn't bat an eye, reversing the downstroke into a swipe that would have taken Tommy's head off if he hadn't ducked. Tommy met Technoblade head on, striking back with a ferocity and skill that seemed to catch his opponent off guard. Now that they were out of close quarters, they were both free to fight at their full capacity. Technoblade was one of the best fighters on the server, yes, but Tommy had over two centuries' worth of experience under his belt. In fact, the only reason he hadn't yet overwhelmed Technoblade was the fact that physical changes didn't transfer across loops.
Dream kept his crossbow aimed at the fight, but he couldn't get a clear shot in. Technoblade caught his eye and jerked his head back towards the house, then turned to parry one of Tommy's swings. "Go get Phil!" he shouted. Dream hesitated for a moment, then turned tail and hobbled towards Philza's house as fast as he could.
The door swung away from the splintered frame with a light touch, revealing the man lying prone on the floor. Dream rushed over, ignoring his protesting ankle, and dropped down next to him. "Philza!"
Philza glared up at him, fury dissolving into relief when he saw Dream. He made a sound as though he was trying to speak, but his jaw remained firmly shut. Dream glanced at his quivering wings.
"You can't move," he realized.
Philza made an affirmative noise.
"Is there any way you can show me where the secret tunnel is?"
Philza hesitated. That in itself was answer enough.
"Fuck. Okay." Dream glanced towards the door, then back to Philza. "Techno's fighting Tommy outside-- I'll grab our stuff and try to carry you out, does that work?"
Another affirmative. Dream grabbed the bags from where they'd been stashed behind some chests, then began the arduous task of transporting Philza.
Trying to sit him up was like trying to move a marble statue. Dream quickly realized that the man's muscles were quite literally locked in place; trying to pull him up forced the rest of him off the floor. Kind of like a cardboard cutout-- which was very inconvenient. Dream was running on the two Strength potions he'd drunk an hour earlier, his ribs and ankle were aching, and he couldn't even use a Healing because potion overdose was not on his agenda. He could barely move Philza in this state, much less lift him.
"I'll have to drag you," he told Philza. Philza, understandably, looked very displeased by this, but they didn't have a better choice.
And so Dream found himself trying to maneuver Philza down the stairs without breaking anything. The wings made it a bit difficult (fuck they were heavy), and Dream winced every time Philza's feet dropped from one step to the next (better his feet than his head, but still). He breathed a sigh of relief as they reached the ground, pausing to catch his breath. Dream could almost hear Tommy making jokes about Philza's age in the back of his head.
Speaking of Tommy--
Dream took a moment to survey the fight. Technoblade appeared to be on the offensive, though every time he tried to pull away, Tommy would be right on him. Techno was gaining ground, however, driving Tommy back.
No, wait. Tommy was letting himself get driven back. Back, towards the execution platform.
"Technoblade!"
Technoblade's head whipped around. When he spotted Dream and Philza, he redoubled his efforts to beat Tommy down. Tommy fell back under the renewed onslaught, backing up until he and Technoblade were fighting on the steps of the platform.
"He's trying to get you to the cage!" Dream shouted. Technoblade immediately tried to disengage, but Tommy grabbed his arm and spun him around onto the platform, raising a glass bottle above his head.
Dream's blood turned to ice. "Above!" he screamed, but the warning came too late. A cloud of gray smoke engulfed Technoblade, and almost instantly, his movements stilled.
"Paralysis," Tommy huffed, panting with the exertion of the fight. Despite this, his voice carried across the plaza. "A bit like upgraded slowness. I'm pretty proud of it."
Dream hesitated, glancing down at Philza. Should he make a run for it? If he did though, Technoblade would be at L'Manberg's mercy. And Prime knew they didn't have a lot of it.
The decision was taken out of his hands when Tommy straightened, ambling over to Technoblade. He wrenched the blade from Technoblade's frozen fingers and tapped the flat of it against his shoulder. "Now, Dream-- come here or Techno dies." He tilted his head. "This is what you like, right? Using leverage?"
Dream didn't move, his heart in his throat. "You-- can't," he protested. "That's not. . ."
Tommy slid the sword an inch closer to Technoblade's neck.
Carefully, Dream lowered Philza to the ground and raised his hands. He approached the platform as steadily as he could, ignoring the throbbing in his ankle. Technoblade glowered as he approached, likely wondering what the fuck he was doing.
To be honest, Dream had no idea. They hadn't planned to get this many people involved, and things were spiraling out of control. Tommy hadn't shown any sign of hesitation, though, and if he wanted to drop the idea, he'd say something. Dream trusted his judgment. If Tommy was going to continue, he'd follow his lead.
So he took a deep breath and shuffled up the steps, stopping in front of Tommy. "You got me. Now step away from Techno."
Tommy paused, as though considering something. ". . . Drop your stuff."
Dream went still. "That's. . . some of it isn't mine," he protested. "You can't burn Philza's--"
"Drop your stuff," Tommy repeated. He adjusted his grip on the sword. Dream glanced at it, then began laying his items on the ground - starting with Philza's bags. When his inventory was empty, he began stripping his armor off. The last thing to land in the pile was the heavy cloak Technoblade had given him, especially suited for the arctic temperatures they lived in. He felt cold without it.
"That's everything," he said quietly.
Tommy jerked his head towards the cage. "Get in."
Dream stepped in. The gate slammed shut. Tommy lowered the sword from Technoblade's throat. "See? That wasn't so hard, huh?"
Dream remained silent, his eyes darting towards Philza. The avian hybrid was still lying on the ground of the plaza, but had managed to bring up a crossbow with one shaking hand.
Tommy followed his gaze and clicked his tongue. He laid a hand on the lever. "Act up, and he gets crushed," he called.
Philza had regained enough control over his facial muscles to assume a mimicry of a scowl. He lowered the weapon.
Tommy glanced back at Dream and tilted his head. Dream nodded back, just slight enough that it could be passed off as a dip of the chin. He had three lives, losing one wasn't going to matter much in the grand scheme of things.
Tommy relaxed slightly, leaning almost casually against the lever. "So, Dream. Why'd you run away?"
Before Dream could answer, a voice rang across the plaza. "Tommy, what are you doing?"
"Tubbo!" Tommy turned around, one arm sweeping out in a welcome. His other one remained firmly on the lever. "Quackity, Fundy-- you're just in time!"
"For what?" Tubbo demanded. "What are you doing?"
Tommy shrugged, cocking his head towards the anvil looming above them. "You set this up for Techno and Dream, yeah? I caught 'em for you."
Tubbo grimaced. "We weren't going to use it."
"Why not?" Tommy tapped his fingers on the lever and Technoblade growled, low and furious, in the back of his throat. "I mean, we have Dream right where we want him, ey? I'm just asking him a few questions."
"And then what?"
"Well, that depends on him." Tommy jerked his chin towards Dream. "He can choose to return to exile, or he can be stubborn."
Tubbo stared at him. ". . . You promised you wouldn't be the next Wilbur."
"Tubbo, what the fuck are you talking about? I'm not Wilbur. I'm not Schlatt. I'm not even Dream, Tubbo, don't you see? Don't you get it?" Tommy smiled, wide and bright. "I'm me. Just Tommy. Nobody's pulling my strings anymore, and fuck, it's amazing."
Quackity shifted, eyes darting to the cage. "Tommy, man, this isn't you."
Tommy laughed. "Oh c'mon big Q, you know why I'm doing this." He swept an arm out towards Dream. "He started this. I'm just giving him a taste of his own medicine, yeah?"
"Yeah, I get that, but. . ." Quackity's hands flexed around his axe. "Would you have done it? Would you really have hurt Sapnap and George?"
Tommy shrugged. "I don't make empty threats."
Quackity reeled back like he'd been struck. Tommy ignored him, turning back to Dream.
"So why'd you run?" He pressed. "And to Technoblade, of all people."
Dream narrowed his eyes. "I'm not going back with you. I'm done with your games."
Tommy laughed. It wasn't a pleasant sound. "A few weeks with Technoblade," he mused, "and you're already forgetting what you are."
Ah, so they were taking this into delicate territory. Dream curled his fingers in the hem of his shirt and said nothing.
"You need a reminder," Tommy mused. His conversational tone sent chills down Dream's spine - because he recognized it. Because he himself had used it many times before, when he'd been threatening Tommy.
Tommy hummed, turning to the pile of discarded items. Nudging a foot beneath the cloak, he kicked it to the side. "A reminder," he repeated.
Flint and steel sparked in his hands. The cloak went up in flames. Dream lunged forward, injured ribs screaming as he slammed into the bars. "NO--!"
He watched numbly as the pale blue cloth blackened and disintegrated. Hours of painstaking work, gone just like that. This must have been how Tommy felt, whenever Dream made him destroy his own items. How many times had Dream dug that hole? How many times had he ordered Tommy to empty his inventory?
Dream wanted to throw up. He didn't. Instead, he watched as the flames devoured the last scrap of blue cloth, leaving nothing but ash.
When the platform began to catch fire as well, Tommy dumped a water bucket on the mess and stamped out the remaining flames. The end result was a large patch of soot, marring the otherwise pristine stage. Dream stared at it, his fingers white around the cloth of his shirt.
"Huh," Tommy said mildly. But when he turned to him, Dream saw the same horror and self-loathing reflected in his eyes. It was a testament to his acting skill that neither appeared in his voice. "So, what should I burn next?"
"Stop," someone said.
Tommy's trembling hands curled into fists as he turned to Fundy, who only stood up straighter.
"Stop," the fox hybrid repeated. He took a step forward, closer to the platform. "Tommy, what the fuck are you doing?"
"Teaching him a lesson," Tommy said. Dream curled in on himself, wincing as he recalled all the times he'd used the same excuse. "You have a problem with that, Fundy?"
"Um, yes?! What part of--" Fundy gestured at the smoking remains of the cloak, "--that counts as teaching!?"
Tommy scoffed. "You all were going to kill him anyway. I'm just making sure the message sticks."
Fundy shook his head. "Tommy, this isn't-- this is straight-out torture, man. You're playing with him. That's not-- it's not--"
"Good? Right?" Fundy took a step back at the vitriol dripping from Tommy's words. "Don't be stupid, Fundy. Dream brought this on himself. He deserves this."
"That's--"
"Did you forget Manberg?" Tommy demanded. "Did you forget Schlatt? Did you forget who was giving him power? Did you forget him--" he jabbed a finger in Dream's direction, "--laughing while this nation went up in flames?!" He turned on Dream. "And you! You were the one who gave Wilbur his TNT!"
Dream swallowed, something uncomfortable roiling in his chest as he recalled the mentioned events. Tommy must have noticed, because his previous ire melted into forced calm. He sighed.
"You're not going to give up, are you?"
Dream remained stubbornly silent.
"Fine. If you're so insistent on being a problem, I'll treat you like one." Tommy smiled, and for a second he let a bit of genuine friendliness leak into his voice. "Catch you later, green boy."
He pulled the lever.
The last thing Dream heard was the wet crunch of metal against bone.
130.
Tommy opened his eyes to see Dream.
They were sitting on opposite ends of the cell. Dream stiffened when he realized where he was, gaze jolting up to meet Tommy's. He hastily looked away, picking at his fingernails.
Well. This wasn't the most ideal place to talk, but Tommy wasn't going to waste another loop trying to find Dream. It was either now or never-- well, not never, more like much later.
He shoved those thoughts aside and cleared his throat. Dream went still, gaze fixed on the obsidian floor.
"Dream."
". . . Hey," Dream rasped. He didn't look up.
"I've been. . . thinking," Tommy started, "that uh, maybe we could give this-- this whole working together shit a try."
Dream stilled, raising his head to shoot Tommy a bewildered look.
"This doesn't mean I forgive you," Tommy added hastily. "This isn't-- you're not the one in charge here. The only reason I'm agreeing is because I don't want to be stuck in this fuckin' time loop forever."
"Aren't you scared?" Dream asked.
Tommy hesitated. He was tempted to bluster, to claim that he wasn't scared of Dream anymore, to tell the man that he held no power over him. But a little voice in the back of his head (that sounded suspiciously like Puffy) reminded him that sometimes, brutal honesty held far more weight than obvious bluffing.
"I'm fucking terrified," Tommy admitted. Dream jerked back, his eyes widening. "I don't think you're a better person now, that's-- that's bullshit. You're probably just plotting to backstab me or some shit, but--" he gritted his teeth, narrowing his eyes. "I know the signs now, Dream. Don't try anything, or the deal gets called off."
Dream was silent for several long seconds. Tommy swallowed, watching as unreadable microexpressions flickered across his face. At last he dipped his head. "That's. . . reasonable."
Tommy's palms were sweating. He wiped them on his pants, shoving down the fear roiling in his stomach. "Okay," he said. "If we're gonna work together, we gotta set some rules."
Dream shrugged, though the action was stiff. "What are they?"
Tommy scowled, tucking his shaking hands between his knees. It was. . . really fucking weird, seeing Dream like this. It was like his entire personality had been overwritten or some shit. The entire thing gave him the creeps.
"No lies. We need to talk shit out if we're actually going to work together."
"Alright."
"No killing, either." Tommy glared at him. "Directly or indirectly. If you kill someone, I'm quitting."
Dream laced his fingers together and pulled, his knuckles straining white. He didn't look up at Tommy. ". . . What about for self defense?"
Tommy breathed through his instinct to snap a denial, forcing himself to take a step back and look at the situation. The way things were going, they'd be looping into the post-final-confrontation era several more times before they could get a solid strategy to consistently break Dream out. That meant that Dream would likely be forced to face Quackity a few more times. And Tommy, as much as he hated Dream, didn't want him to. . . go through that.
"Not their final life," he ground out.
Dream's head jerked up and down in a nod. "I can do that. But." He looked to the side. "If I-- kill someone. . . if I kill someone, permanently, I'll bring them back. With. With the book."
Tommy's nerves went alight. He was faintly aware of his pulse thundering in his ears, staccato-sharp, and the ache growing in his chest. Memories of that fucking void cycled through his mind, pressing in on him and eating away at his very being until he had nothing. Memories of being nothing, until chartreuse strings split the darkness and dragged him into the realm of the living.
"Yeah," he forced out through clenched teeth. His voice cracked. "You. Do that."
Dream looked. . . for lack of a better word, very uncomfortable. Served the bastard right.
Tommy forced himself to breathe, cycling through his exercises until his heartbeat slowed to a reasonable pace. He relaxed his muscles, one by one, before finally looking back at Dream.
"Last one-- and fuck if I know you're gonna break it-- respect my fucking boundaries." Tommy scowled halfheartedly, feeling inexplicably tired. "I'm a human being, Dream, and you're gonna treat me like one."
Dream swallowed. "I. . . Of course."
"And. . . these rules go for you too," Tommy grumbled. Dream blinked in surprise. "I'll respect your boundaries if you respect mine."
"O. . . kay?"
"Right." Tommy turned his glare on the wall of lava. "Well, when I get out, I'll start figuring out a way to break you out. We can't work together if you're stuck in here half the time."
Dream's breathing hitched. Tommy glanced at him to see that he'd gone stock-still, gaze boring into the floor. "You. . ." he started, his voice trembling. He cleared his throat. "You're going to. To break me out?"
"Well, I'm gonna damn well try," Tommy scoffed. "It'll take us a few loops to figure it out, but we have time."
"Right," Dream murmured. He returned to picking at his hands.
Tommy gnawed on the inside of his cheek. His suspicions were almost all but confirmed, but he still needed to know. Still needed to know that it had really happened.
"Dream." The man in question tensed. "Did. . . was Quackity hurting you?"
Dream paused, completely still for three long seconds. Then his head snapped up. "You didn't know?"
Tommy recoiled. "What the fuck?! No! Quackity did all that shit by himself!"
Dream stared at him. His next words scraped off his tongue like shards of broken glass. "You. . . didn't know."
Tommy gritted his teeth. "Dream, I don't condone torture." Unlike you, went unsaid.
"You didn't know," the other man repeated. "He-- all this time, he said-- I thought--"
"Well you thought wrong," Tommy scoffed.
Dream sat forward, a desperate light shining in his eyes. Tommy tensed. "Sorry, just. . . did, did the others know?"
"No? I told you, Quackity was acting on his own."
Dream smiled. It was jagged at the edges and half-delirious, born from the mad joy that came with a giddying realization at rock bottom. Tommy instinctively drew back at the sight of it, but Dream didn't even seem to notice.
"They didn't know," he breathed, curling inwards as he dug his fingers into his matted hair. "They-- they didn't know, they didn't tell him to do it." His smile widened even as tears began trickling down his cheeks. "Ha, they-- it was just-- him, they didn't-- ha-- haha--"
"Dream?" Tommy shifted. The rough obsidian scraped across his back. "Dream, you're, uh, being weird."
Dream's eyes snapped to him. "They didn't know," he choked out. "They didn't tell him to do it, they didn't tell him I deserved it, it was all him-- I thought, I thought George or Sapnap knew, and they didn't-- they just didn't--"
Oh.
Oh.
"They don't know," Tommy blurted. "They didn't. Nobody did."
Dream hunched in on himself, burying his face in his knees. It did nothing to stop the unsettling laughter spilling past his lips. Tommy shrank back against the wall of the cell, digging his nails into his knees to ground himself. He bit on the inside of his cheek and followed his breathing exercises, trying to ignore the madman giggling hysterically on the other side of the cell.
When Dream had finally fallen silent, Tommy cleared his throat. "So."
"So," Dream echoed. His voice was hoarse. Tommy glanced at the blinking red light in the corner of the ceiling so he didn't have to look at him.
"Sam. . . does Sam have microphones in here?"
Dream didn't comment on the subject change. It was an unspoken agreement to pretend that the last five minutes hadn't happened. "No."
"Great. Okay. So, breaking you out of jail." Tommy curled and uncurled his hands, taking a deep breath. "Tell me how Techno did it, and we can go from there."
Loop Notes
126. It was the first time Tommy had gotten so close to Michael. He wasn't prepared for how touchy-feely Michael got, but. . . it was nice.
127. Plot twist: Tommy's deaging potions don't actually erase memories! Fundy knew exactly what he was doing.
128. Dream spent ten loops practicing how to draw hands, just so he could do this.