When Tommy gets back, it's overwhelming. Purpled is warm, and it feels like he's gone so long without warmth that it'll hurt him. He is careful, barely touching Tommy, but every touch burns.
They can only hold hands now. And only Tommy's right hand, the one he held over Friend.
(Tommy thinks it's mildly ironic that dried blood was the only warmth he could ever achieve there, but he doesn't say it to Purpled. Purpled has been clingy, lately.)
It was weird for Tommy, the experience of coming back. According to Purpled, your spawn point is just the last place you slept, though he hasn't died since early childhood—before pogtopia, with his biological family, managing to lose two of his canonical lives—so he isn't completely sure about that. When Tommy suggests that Purpled is the last place he slept, since he typically sleeps with his head curled onto Purpled's chest, he gets an annoyed huff.
"Tommy, I'm just saying! It doesn't work like that!"
"It does!"
"You don't just spawn on someone, I was probably just in the same spot!"
"I spawned on your mother, bitch."
"What mother?"
"...point."
"Tommy, I don't know what happened, I'm just happy you're here."
"I wanna know what's gonna happen! Like, what if it happens again?"
"Tommy, no."
"But science?!"
"You failed science!"
"I literally got a perfect score on the finals in uni."
"Because of a dare?! You took nuclear chemistry on a dare, and somehow managed to ace it. Wait—how'd you even get into uni?"
"A little bit of fraud never hurt anyone, Purpled. You know that."
"Tommy, please don't discuss illegal activities around your superiors," Sapnap chimes, suddenly appearing behind the two boys.
"You can't be my superior if you're short, Sapnap. Cat boy." Tommy chirps, Purpled flicking his nose.
"You're literally a child."
"You're a fossil," Purpled deadpans, cleaning his nails with a knife. Sapnap sputters, unable to come up with any good insult against it. Clearly, he has left his brain, along with his youth, with the dinosaurs.
"Sapnap, what do you need?" Tommy asks, interrupting Purpled before he can offend Sapnap again. Sapnap smiles, but it's tighter than normal, a sure sign of pity. Tommy doesn't need, nor want, pity.
It's never helped him before, it's not going to now.
"Dream wants to speak with everyone. Because of...how badly the river went. We're going again, I believe," Sapnap replies, awkwardly pausing when he talks about the river.
"Dude, I'm not dead, don't be awkward."
Purpled smacks Tommy, frowning when Tommy nudges into the hit. He starts tapping Tommy's arm rhythmically, and it takes a minute for him to realize what's going on. Morse code.
Well, not exactly. It's their own screwed up version, a weird series of taps varying in length, similar to normal Morse code. But it's different, in a way they can't quite explain. It started in Pogtopia, where many things start, at least for Tommy and Purpled.
(When they were locked in closets, they had to talk. It was talk or go insane, and those that were insane could never escape.)
"Don't say that!" Sapnap shouts, cheeks turning red as he realizes he shouted. But that doesn't stop him, it barely even makes him pause. "Do not say that!"
"Why do you care? I'm not dead."
"But you were! And you didn't deserve that and all I saw was blond hair in the river. And Eret was screaming because it was her fault and then Purpled was running. And I wanted to stop! I can't stop, Tommy, not on an active battle field! I've trained for it, I've fought here for five years and nothing ever stopped me like that, not Qua-not my friends dying, or nearly dying, but you did! You made me stop, and you shouldn't have! Prime, Tommy, you're so fucking important for the stupidest reasons."
"I'm not?" Tommy mutters, ignoring the way Purpled clings to him with inhuman strength. Purpled opens his mouth to speak, but Sapnap starts before he can.
"Tommy, I...When you died, you know what I thought? 'Who's going to bully Dream with me? Who will share crappy food with me? I'm not going to have someone willing to fight for me like I matter, I'm losing one of my people.' Tommy, you're one of my people. You don't die, okay? You stick around, and you fight, no matter what."
"No matter what? What do you mean by that?"
Sapnap crouches down next to the two of them, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. "It means whoever is hurting you, you fight against. It doesn't matter if it's the syndicate, or Eret, or-or Dream, okay? You fight them, because you matter."
"Why?" Tommy asks, voice quiet and nearly breaking.
(It's a strange thing to be strong, unshakable through pain and suffering, but shatter at the mere touch of something gentle. It's a strange thing, but it is human.)
"Because you're you, Tommy. And that's all that's ever mattered," Sapnap says, confident and smiling and proud. And it's wrong because this is Sapnap, who only knows jokes and violence, not gentle words. But apparently he does.
"The fossil is right, for once. You're just...inexplicably you, and that's what matters. We'll be okay." Purpled says, only partially ruining the moment.
"Shut the fuck up, color boy," Sapnap shouts, yelling as Purpled leaps after him with renewed bravado.
Tommy laughs, because this is right.
-/-/-/-/
"Hello, Wilbur," a woman says, sitting next to him. She has apparently been given a rare moment of peace, quite unlike anything she can have. It comes with the job, he supposes, but still. He'd like to see his (adopted) mother, even if she's the Goddess of Death.
"Hey, mumza," he mutters, looking over at her from his spot on the cot. She looks like she normally does, elegant in a way only she can. Her hair is dark again, eyes tired but bright, and she radiates safety.
She sits next to him, letting him clutch her hand like a life line.
"Did he...did Tommy go to limbo?" Wilbur asks, voice shaking and cracking. It doesn't matter that Tommy is alive now, because he still died. And Wilbur, well, Wilbur doesn't want that for him.
"I shouldn't tell you that, Wil."
"I need to know, please?"
"Alright. Tommy did go to limbo. I couldn't stop it, it's just...he had to."
Wilbur collapses in on himself, dropping to the ground and shaking with sobs.
"Oh, Wil..."
"Why—why did he have to go? That-it doesn't work like that? I only went after..."
"Yeah, I know. There are two places, the field or limbo. Most people, they go to the field unless it's their past death and then they go to the afterlife. You should've gone there, actually. But some people go to limbo. Because they have to."
"Why?" He whispers, heart broken in the way that causes her heart to break, a violent feeling that she's unused to.
"It's supposed to...make you want to live again. Tommy was—he was happy when he died, or at least he thought he deserved it. But he wasn't alone in limbo, I promise. I put him, redirected I guess, in the one you were in."
"I—what? How would that help?"
"Your handprint on the wall, Wilbur. He knows you like he knows himself, and you know him. Or you will, if you're ever in limbo again. And he will, if he is there."
"Okay." Wilbur says, like that's an appropriate response. But he's done with the conversation, and that's okay.
That's okay.
"I'm sorry, Wilbur, for whatever it's worth," Kristen says, standing up slowly. Wilbur clutches her hand, leaning into her.
"Do you—can you—wait? Please? Just a—just a second?"
"Of course, darling."
They sit on the ground, Wilbur curled into Kristen's side, her hands flitting through his hair.
She really can't stay.
But she'll stay for him.
-/-/-/-
The river is cold. It's rushing against his legs, drenching his boots and the bottom half of his pants, and he has to fight to stay focused. Gunshots surround him, as they do on the battlefield, but it's not enough, not sharp enough to distract his mind from the cold.
There's open sky around him, he's okay.
He clenches his fist, relishing in the pain.
"Tommy?" Purpled shouts from where he's standing next to Tommy, a gun in his hands and three more strapped to his body.
"Yeah, Purps?" Tommy replies, shrugging slightly to get his two backpacks to stop rubbing into his neck. He's started using two, one on the front for medical supplies and one on the back for his stuff. It's a bit annoying, especially considering the fact that the straps constantly dig into his shoulders or neck, but it works better. The weight is also soothing, and he hopes the thick exterior of the bags will stop a second death.
Dying was definitely not pog. Zero out of ten, worse than the McDonalds with cockroach burgers. Dying is a strict do not recommend.
"Are you okay?"
Something in Purpled's voice is weird, possibly the exhaustion that comes from days with little sleep, but he sounds different. Older, more done.
Tommy supposed he does, too.
"I'm okay."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I'm just a bit cold, is all."
"As long as you're okay," Purpled says, sounding as though he does not agree with or believe Tommy whatsoever. Tommy, we'll Tommy can't find the energy to care.
Actually, he can find the energy, he just chooses not to.
They trudge through the river, Purpled occasionally shooting and Tommy pulling out his medkit and helping people. It's not as violent as past battles, maybe because the two of them are farther away from the Syndicates base, but they won't complain.
It's a bit nice not to have to worry about getting shot, or at least worry as much.
Purpled drops into the water with a yelp.
"You fucking loser, don't trip," Tommy says, laughing a bit and looking behind him, expecting a glare.
Purpled, decidedly, is not glaring.
"Tommy?" Purpled whispers, voice cracking, clutching his side. There are tears in his eyes, which are closed tightly.
The water is red.
Purpled is hurt and that means he's in pain and that's not good. It's not okay, nothings right and Tommy has to fix it, but he's frozen and scared. And then Purpled groans and Tommy is scared and he's terrified and his entire world is ripped up. But he can fix it.
He has to fix it.
"Alright, Purps, you're gonna be fine. It's just your side, right?"
"Don't—I'm not one of your fucking patients, Tom."
"Fine. Are you shot anywhere else?"
"No."
Tommy nods, pulling Purpled up from the water a little more, moving the two of them onto a rock and peeling off the bottom of Purpled's jacket.
It's bloody, as expected, but it's just a very deep graze, which is good in terms of likelihood to seriously injure. Tommy picks out a couple stray fabric pieces stuck in the wound, apologizing softly when Purpled grimaces.
A shot whizzes by and Purpled falls off the rock, shouting as blood flows from his arm.
"Fuck!" Purpled shouts, ducking his head into his chest. "Tom-Tom please, it hurts please, please, make it stop."
And Tommy can't think.
He sees the guy that did it, someone with inky black hair and looks like a complete bitch, and he doesn't think. He reaches to his waist, grabbing a gun.
He shoots, and there's a reason he's part of the elite forces.
Purpled doesn't miss, and Purpled taught him.
(And who is he but not the perfect student?)
He doesn't think.
The guy drops, another red spot in the river.
Tommy goes back to Purpled, swiftly putting the gun in its holster. Wordlessly, he cleans out both wounds (thankfully just grazes) and wraps them.
"You okay, Purpled?" Tommy asks, voice quiet.
"Yeah, I'm okay," he whispers, leaning into Tommy. Their cover is slightly better now, at a different angle behind the oddly shaped rock. They should be safe enough for a moment of peace.
"I'm enacting the serious law," Tommy says, smirking slightly.
"Not that shit again," Purpled mumbles, turning and burying his face into Tommy's chest. "We aren't twelve anymore, Tom."
"Hmmm. But you're still lying, aren't you?" Tommy asks, carefully threading his fingers through Purpled's hair, flicking out chunks of dirt. Purpled just nods, shuddering. "Yeah, that's okay. I'm going to get you back to base, okay?"
"A wise choice, for a dumbass like you."
"Yeah, yeah. I'm gonna lift you, and then we're running. It's going to hurt, but we're pretty close to Sam's tent, so we'll be fine."
"Sam? I-I like Sam."
"Do you?"
"Yup! He's very nice and he likes guns and I like guns so we're best besties. Obviously he's not my best best bestie, but he's like, second best best bestie!"
The morphine has apparently kicked in.
Tommy sighs, maneuvering Purpled so he's on his shoulders. Purpled's breath hitches, but otherwise he doesn't stop talking about how cool Sam is. Scanning around, Tommy doesn't see too many people, so he's in the clear for now.
He makes the sprint to Sam's tent with relative ease, having ran with men twice Purpled's size on his back.
"Tommy?" Sam yells, clearly confused.
"Hey! He got shot, he's all wrapped up. I need to head back out, some of the syndicate soldiers carry health pots on them," Tommy says, laying Purpled on the cot (apparently Sam gets both a tent and a cot) gently. He presses their foreheads together and jogs out, running to where he sees a soldier drop.
Lucky for him (Tommy that is, this guys is going to be robbed), the guy is a syndicate soldier, with a simple graze to the arm. The guy panics when he sees Tommy, clearly expecting to be killed.
Tommy's not going to kill him.
Only thievery will occur.
"Soooo," Tommy starts, smiling under his mask as the guy scrambles back slightly.
"Don't kill me!"
"What's your name?"
"What?"
"What do I call you? Other than bitch, of course."
"Don't kill me!!"
"Dude?! I'm not going to. I'm just going to fix your arm, I'm just making casual conversation!"
The guy screams with an aggression that Tommy didn't even know existed.
"STOP"
"Don! My name is Donovan!!" The guy yells,flinching back as Tommy quickly wraps his arm.
"See, that wasn't even difficult."
"Yes it was!" He mumbles, crying slightly. Tommy rolls his eyes, grabbing the health pot he spots floating and sneaking it into his bag.
Don, the dick he is, sobs louder. He shouldn't even be feeling pain, considering he was given morphine.
Tommy does not regret stealing from him.
Not at all.
He gets back quickly, and the shooting has slowed to just random bursts, so he assumes they're done for now. From what he can see, it looks like they've gained the river and supply tents, but he won't know for certain until he can actually talk to Dream.
That's fine, he doesn't really care. What he cares about is Purpled, now fully healed from the potion.
They curl into each other, Purpled gripping Tommy's jacket tightly, like he did when they were young.
"Hey Purpled?"
"Yeah, Red?" Purpled slurs, exhausted.
"If you die, I'll kill you."
"Then I'll haunt you," he replies, dragging the blanket over the two of them.
"Maybe I'll die too."
"Then my ghost will haunt your ghost."
"Sure, Purps."
"I love you, Tommy. I know I don't say it, but-I do. Love you, I mean."
"Yeah, I know. How could I not? And I love you too, more than anything."
Purpled just curls closer, but tears stain Tommy's shirt.
But that's okay, because it's Purpled.
And he'd do anything for Purpled.