Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You- you can’t be… Be seri- serious.” Tommy had to force the words out of his throat, and they still came out scratchy and too quiet.

Two years ago, Tommy would have jumped at what Dream was offering. Two years ago he would have done anything to go back to L’manburg, even if it was just a temporary thing. He had begged Dream to let him visit, just for an hour, for Christmas. 

Two years ago, Tommy was naive.

“You’re going to go back to L’manburg. You’ve grown so much in the years of exile, I think it’s time”

“Dream-”

“Quiet, Tommy. You know you’re not to talk until I finish what I have to say.”

Tommy grit his teeth and shut his mouth. He should have known better by now, he really should have. Dream preferred him to be quiet, but he couldn’t help but speak sometimes. That was why Dream had punished him so harshly for it.

“As I was saying,” Dream continued, “It will only be for a week or two. It’s not as big of a deal as you’re making it out to be. All you’re going to do is tag along with them on their little adventure and report back all important information to me.”

Tommy stared at him blankly.

“You can speak.”

“Dre-am.” His voice hitched halfway through the word, making it come out in an awkward squawk. “I don’t- I ca- an’t-”

“Are you saying I haven’t trained you well enough? That you can’t be good enough for a little while just to visit?”

Tommy shook his head quickly. It took him a moment to figure out how to describe exactly the problem he had with going back, other than the obvious ‘they exiled me’ bit. Dream already knew that. “They ha-ate me.” Granted, Dream already knew they hated him, too.

“They won’t know it’s you.”

He looked up at Dream, dumbstruck.

“Obviously not. Don’t be stupid, Tommy.” He had to hold back a flinch at the sudden harshness in his tone. “Tommyinnit was exiled from L’manburg. Everyone hates Tommyinnit. Nobody wants Tommyinnit back.”

The words hurt, even if he heard them often. Even if he thought them often.

“That’s why Tommyinnit isn’t coming back.”

“What?”

“Let’s go inside, yeah?”

About six months into exile, Tommy had finally let go of any hope that he was leaving, and built a small cottage to replace his tent. It was… Cozy. That was the nice way to put it. It was small, poorly-built, and quite cramped. Like a one room apartment, if it was designed by a sixteen year old. Which it had been.

Dream led Tommy inside. He sat at the end of Tommy’s bed, leaving Tommy to stand awkwardly, fidgeting with his hands as Dream slipped his bag off of his shoulder and started pulling contents out of it.

First was a sweater. It looked… Very well made. Better than any clothes Tommy had managed to make while he was out there, at least. It was a cream color, and looked hand-knit. Did Dream know how to knit? Probably not, but that was beside the point.

Next came a thick scarf, deep maroon in color. It looked soft. If Tommy was a weaker man (a bigger man, something in the back of his mind said, but he quickly squashed that down), he would have grabbed it immediately. 

Before Tommy could thank him, Dream pulled something else out of the bag.

A white porcelain mask.

Just like Dream’s.

Well, not just like Dream’s. This one had a deep frown instead of a smile. It… It was unsettling, to be honest. Unsettling enough to make Tommy hesitate before profusely thanking Dream for the gifts.

“Th-ank you D-Dream.” He took a deep breath. Saying sentences more than a few words long was hard, ever since… Oh, it didn’t matter. “I really- really appreciate it.”

"Good." Dream stood suddenly, giving Tommy a quick pat on the head. "Change, then. We leave in five minutes." And with that, he walked out of the house. 

It was good that he did, because Dream despised dealing with Tommy's panic. And panicking was definitely what Tommy was doing right then. 

-----oOo-----

Tommy couldn’t force himself to pay attention as Dream led him through L’manburg. It didn’t even feel like L’manburg anymore. A man-made lake filled the crater that Wilbur had created, and buildings were built onto docks over the top. It looked nice. Tommy didn’t care.

He didn’t care about the sounds of people walking around, he didn’t care about who might have seen him, since it didn’t matter, anyway. They wouldn’t recognize him. Not with the getup Dream had forced- not forced, asked- him to wear. Although the shirt and scarf were toned down versions of what he used to wear, the mask sort of outshined everything else. He looked like a slightly shorter, more lanky version of Dream. He didn’t care about that, either.

And he certainly didn’t care about-

Wait, Tubbo?

It was funny, because Tommy both recognized Tubbo in an instant, and didn’t recognize him at all. 

He hadn’t grown any taller. Not a single inch, but then again, neither had Tommy. His hair was sheared short, shorter than Tommy remembered. It was still that deep brown color, though maybe just a shade or two darker than before. Probably from lack of sun, which was a complete opposite of Tommy’s nearly-white hair. With the short hair, it was difficult to miss the two small horns jutting out of his head, something Tubbo used to keep hidden, but apparently didn’t anymore. Speaking of keeping hidden, Tommy could see most of the burn scars across Tubbo’s face and neck. It looked like they healed well. 

He wore a freshly-pressed grey suit with a green tie. He looked formal, though his expression was casual enough to show that he was comfortable dressing like that now, a stark contrast from two years ago.

Tommy was too far away to see his eyes, to catch the way they sparkled when he talked about his latest project. He was too far away to count the freckles that splattered across his face (forty-five, his mind supplied, though he wondered if there would be more now). He was too far away to trace his hands lightly over the scars from what he deemed ‘The Technoblade Incident’.

“Come on, now. This will be fun.” Dream whispered in his ear, before linking their arms together and leading Tommy over to the group.

Just stay with Dream. This is fine. Everything is fine. Sure, this is the guy who exiled you. Sure, this is the man who hates you. Sure, this is the kid who threw away their symbol of friendship. But it’s fine. Dream will protect. Dream is safe. Dream is home.

“Dream,” Tubbo’s voice had gotten deeper. If it was two years ago, Tommy would have made a crude joke. Now, he stood silently as the boy- man? Was Tubbo really an adult now- continued. “I wasn’t expecting you for another two days.” 

“Well, I made good travel time.” Dream said with a chuckle. He unlinked arms with Tommy, putting his hand on his shoulder instead. The physical contact was nice; it was grounding. Which was good, because Tommy felt like he was floating away as soon as he saw Tubbo again. He hadn’t expected this to be so hard.

“Right, right.” Tubbo’s eyes flicked from Dream to Tommy, then back again, several times, before he swallowed hard. “I didn’t know you were letting anyone new on the server. I thought you closed it two years ago.”

“I did. This was an… Exception, I suppose.”

There was an awkward bout of silence as Tubbo narrowed his eyes just slightly, though Tommy wasn’t sure if the expression was directed at Dream or at himself. “I see. I just, I thought when you said you were bringing someone to help us out, you meant… I dunno, Sam or something.”

Help them out? What was Tubbo talking about? 

“No, I wasn’t. But don’t worry, he’ll do just fine.”

Tubbo bit his lip slightly, a bad habit he had picked up during the election, and apparently had never put down. “Well… If you say so.”

“I do.” Dream chuckled lightly. It wasn’t in the warm way he would when Tommy would occasionally make a good joke, either. It was in the dark, cruel way that he would when Tommy screwed something up. Tubbo probably didn’t know the difference. “Alright, well, I’d better be off, but I’m sure you two can handle it.” The hand was removed from his shoulder. “I’ll be back in, say, a week and a half, to pick him up?”

“Sure, Dream, sounds good.”

“Great, great. In that case,” Dream turned to Tommy, “I’ll be back then. Be on your best behavior, yeah?”

Tommy nodded in response. Dream turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Tommy and Tubbo standing about five feet away from each other, neither boy saying a word. 

The silence didn’t last long. It never did with Tubbo.

“It’s nice to meet you.” He said, forcing his mouth into what was so obviously a fake grin. “I’m Tubbo, what’s your name?”

Tommy made no move to respond. He didn’t have anything to say to Tubbo, not really. Not after everything he had been put through, not after the betrayals and the lies and the heartbreak.

“...Okay. Dream, uh… Dream didn’t really tell me your name, so… You gotta give me something to work with here.” Tubbo wrung his hands together awkwardly, rocking back and forth on his heels. He looked nervous. Awkward. Uncomfortable.

In another life, Tommy would have laughed.

Now, he stood still, hands clasped behind his back. He pushed down any negative emotions he had for Tubbo, he could deal with them later. Dream wanted him to help him with… Something. Tommy would do that, and then he’d go back to Dream, and everything would be fine.

“You’re… You’re not deaf, are you?” Tubbo paused, then brought his hands up to start signing. He had started picking up sign language after the first explosion of L’manburg, after suffering hearing loss. Callahan had taught it to him. Tommy wasn’t sure how fluent Tubbo was in it at this point, but Tommy certainly was not fluent. He caught the words ‘deaf’ and ‘you’, but that was about it.

He shook his head.

“Are you mute?” He thought for a moment. Technically he wasn’t mute, as he could talk, it just made his throat feel like it was on fire. Still, he nodded, and Tubbo perked up at that. It reminded Tommy of…

That was odd. He couldn’t remember what it reminded him of.

Tubbo continued on, nonetheless. “Do you know sign? I’m not great at understanding, but-”

 Tommy shook his head. 

“Oh. That’s- that’s okay, we’ll figure something out. I actually need to head to the White House quickly, if you want to come with?”

Tommy nodded, and before he knew it, he was being led down the Prime Path and to the White House.

He actually paid attention to his surroundings as Tubbo led him through the city.

It was nostalgic in a way Tommy hadn’t expected. This L’manburg was barely recognizable to the country he had been exiled from. The citizens must have really worked hard on making the place better, with the wooden buildings over the man-made lake, the trees and flowers everywhere. There weren’t half-finished builds anywhere, either, or messes left uncleaned on the ground. It was beautiful.

This was what Tommy had imagined visiting for Christmas would be like, despite him knowing L’manburg didn’t look half as nice two years ago.

“We’ve worked really hard on building the place up.” Tubbo said. He must have noticed Tommy staring, even if Tubbo couldn’t see how wide his eyes were, how his mouth hung open slightly as he took in his surroundings. “It’s gotten a lot prettier since…” Since Tommy got exiled. That was probably what he was about to say. It made sense, anyway. There was no Tommy there to ruin anything.

 “Well, anyway, here we are.” Tubbo swung the door to the White House open, and Tommy walked in.

He was met with a large black desk and a fox-hybrid sitting behind it. Well, Fundy was more lying than sitting, his chair leaned all the way back and his feet propped up on his desk. As soon as he saw Tommy, he scrambled to look more professional, falling out of his chair in the process.

“Sorry!” He shouted, rising to his feet and rubbing the back of his head slightly. “I didn’t realize we were expecting company. Uh…” he paused, looking at Tommy closely. “Who are you?”

“He’s mute, Fundy.” Tubbo said. “I… Don’t actually know his name. Dream didn’t tell me before he wandered off.”

“Dream sent him?” Fundy sounded… Shocked. And Tommy didn’t like the way he spoke about Dream, either, like he was something to not be spoken about.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m just going to take him back to my office, go over a few details on our project. It shouldn’t take too long.”

“You’re leaving early, then?”

“We’ll probably go tomorrow, since he’s here already. Speaking of here, is Ranboo in yet?”

“Already waiting in your office, Mister President.”

“Great. Good. Okay, come on then, uh…” Tubbo trailed off as he remembered he didn’t know how to refer to Tommy. Eventually, he just gestured for Tommy to follow, which Tommy did.

He was led into a surprisingly large room.

Had Ranboo gotten taller? He had already been towering over Tommy last he had seen him, but now he looked like an actual tree. He had to be at least six inches taller than him, though Tommy wasn’t intimidated by that.

Apparently Ranboo and Dream were… Friends, somewhat. In a weird, mind-control sort of way.

Not that Dream did mind-control things, because he didn’t. But Dream had mentioned something about how Ranboo had a different side to him when he sleepwalked, and loved to listen to Dream then. He wasn’t sure that was totally correct, because Tommy tended to zone out when Dream would go off about members of L’manburg.

Ranboo’s eyes widened when he saw Tommy, and for a moment, Tommy feared that his mask had somehow fallen off and that Ranboo recognized him. It didn’t take long to realize that neither of those things were even a possibility. 

“Hi, there. Sorry, I wasn’t expecting- I was just leaving-”

“No, Ranboo, take a seat. You should be here, too. I think.”

Ranboo stared at them both for a moment, then sat in an empty chair towards the front of the desk. Tubbo sat behind, and Tommy took the only other empty chair, next to Ranboo.

“Well, this is Ranboo.” Tubbo said, his smile much more genuine now. That hurt worse than the fake one. “He’s sort of… He’s my right hand man. Co-President. Co-leader. Whatever you want to call him, really. He’s also my husband- platonically- but it’s not nepotism, I swear.”

Ah, that’s how it was.

Tommy had been replaced. And he wasn’t surprised, not really. Because of course Tommy had been replaced. Ignoring the fact that he had been missing for two years, and his role in Tubbo’s life had to be filled by someone, there were still a thousand reasons that Tommy would be replaced like this.

He was annoying, he caused problems on purpose, he swore too much, nobody liked him, everyone wanted him gone, it was a good thing he had been exiled, because it meant that no one had to deal with him anymore. Except Dream. 

Dream, wonderful Dream, his closest and only friend. The only person in the world who was willing to deal with him after everything he had done. The man who had saved his life countless times. The man who was his best friend.

Right, yeah, Dream was his best friend. Not Tubbo. All Tubbo had done was hurt him. He exiled Tommy, he burned the compass, he-

“Are you okay?” A hand was on his shoulder, too small to be Dream’s, but that somehow made it more threatening.

Tommy kept his gaze on the dark tile of the floor. His shoulders were shaking, and his breathing was coming out fast and shuddering. Tears that he hadn’t realized had been sliding down his cheeks dripped down and onto the tile. They would have to mop.

“Hey, Dream’s friend, can you hear me?” Dream's friend. That was nice. 

He could see the edges of Tubbo’s feet, currently wearing recently polished dress shoes, the laces tied horribly. Tubbo was standing on his tip toes, probably to be on eye-level with Tommy.

“Can I take your mask off for a second? It might be easier to breathe if-” 

Tommy shoved the boy back, immediately taking a few steps backward. He could not take the mask off. Not as long as he was here. Dream had been so incredibly clear about that. No matter what happens, the mask stays on.

Tubbo yelped and fell to the floor. He hadn’t even shoved him that hard, he was just caught off guard. But the yelp pulled him back into reality. He had heard the panicked cry so many times at that point that it set off his brother-senses (despite the fact that they weren’t related).

Ranboo stood to help Tubbo up, but Tommy shoved past him and offered Tubbo his own, bandaged hand. He ignored the scars that crept up over Tubbo’s fingers as the boy accepted his hand and was pulled to his feet. 

Tommy took a deep breath, before wheezing out, “Sorry.” It felt like knives going down his throat, and his voice felt like knives going down his ears, too. It was so quiet and scratchy from disuse, and it came out all cracked and broken from his… Injury. Punishment. Reward. He wasn’t sure anymore. 

He didn’t miss the way Tubbo flinched at his voice. And why wouldn’t he? It sounded awful. Yet another reason why he shouldn’t talk at all. “It’s fine, man. I don’t mean to be rude, but is your voice alright? I’m sure Fundy could get you some tea to help with that.”

He shook his head, almost too quickly.

Punishments don’t get helped. They’re punishments for a reason. An insult doesn’t get apologized, an item taken away doesn’t get replaced, a beating doesn’t get fixed with a health potion (unless he was on the brink of death). 

Even if he could hear his wheezing breath echo back at him in his mask. Even if taking said breaths made his throat feel like fire. Even if a cup of tea sounded heavenly right now, Tommy was in no place to take it.

The throat issue was his fault. He had caused it, and now he had to deal with the consequences. That’s what Dream would have wanted.

“Are you sure? It’s no problem, really, we have lots of tea.”

Dream wouldn’t know.

Dream would have no idea if he were to have just one cup. Wouldn’t he, though? Dream seemed to know everything, surely this was something he knew, too. He would find out. Someone (Ranboo, probably) would tell him, and then Tommy would get punished harder.

Maybe he would make Tommy completely lose his voice forever. That felt suitable, for everything Tommy had done. Dream had told him not to talk and not even an hour after Dream left him, he spoke. Idiot. What a stupid, stupid, idiot. He shouldn’t- he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t be with Tubbo, not after everything.

He was supposed to be over this. They weren’t friends. Tommy knew this.

Still, it hurt.

“Ranboo, why don’t you go get him some water?” Tubbo’s voice was so quiet, Tommy almost missed it. He did not miss the tapping of Ranboo’s shoes against the floor, nor the way the door creaked open before it swung closed again.

When had his gaze shifted back to the floor? Back to Tubbo’s shoelaces. Growing up, Tommy always helped Tubbo tie his shoes. Even as teenagers, even when Tommy switched to only wearing slip-on shoes. Until this point, he wasn’t even fully sure Tubbo knew how to tie his shoes.

“Do you want to sit?” Tubbo asked, and the way the question was phrased surprised him. It sounded more like a question than a command. Dream would’ve said ‘why don’t you sit’, or something along the lines. Just so Tommy knew it wasn’t a request. Not that Tommy would’ve disobeyed anyway. He was smarter than that. Dream was his only friend, he just wanted to help him.

And if Dream trusted Tubbo with Tommy, then Tommy should trust him, too. He sat down on the chair, Tubbo immediately taking the seat next to him. Ranboo’s seat, he thought dimly.

“I’m sorry if I scared you earlier. I swear I didn’t mean to.”

Tommy shrugged in response, not trusting his voice to work.

Dream hadn’t even told him not to talk. Well, he had, kind of, but not specifically for this. Dream had hated Tommy’s voice, which was fair, because he talked too much. It was annoying. That’s what Dream always said. Dream had yelled at him a thousand times to shut up, and Tommy hadn’t listened.

So the punishment came.

And now it hurt to make noise. Dream was smart for doing that, because it made Tommy actually think before speaking. It made him quieter. More manageable. A better person. A better friend for Dream.

Being quiet would be being a better friend for Tubbo, too. Tubbo had told him before that he was too loud. It would be better this way. This way he couldn’t be as outwardly selfish. At least this time, Tubbo wouldn’t see the selfishness.

Because, deep down, Tommy was very selfish. He knew this. He hoarded things, he panicked when he lost things. He clung to Dream like he was some savior (he was, wasn’t he?) and struggled to let go.

Tubbo shouldn’t have had to deal with Tommy.

But maybe Tommy could be a little selfish. Just for a week and a half.

It wasn’t like they were friends anyway. They wouldn’t be. Not when Tubbo had Ranboo and Tommy had…

Nobody.

No, no, stop that. That’s not true. Tommy had Dream. Dream, his best friend, his mentor, the best person he had ever met.

“Are… Are you okay?” Tubbo sounded concerned. More concerned than Tommy thought he would ever be for him, not that Tubbo knew who he was.

Tommy lifted his head to look Tubbo in the eyes, ignoring the way a smile tugged onto his lips. He missed Tubbo. The smile fell.

He didn’t miss Tubbo. Why would he? Tubbo exiled him. Tubbo betrayed him. Tubbo hated Tommy.

Did Tommy hate Tubbo?

He wasn’t sure.

Slowly, Tommy brought a hand up to his own throat, pressing against it lightly, as if that would make the pain hurt any less. It wouldn’t, but it helped him focus on forming words. 

“I…” He took a breath. Talking took so much more effort than it was worth. “I'm okay… It's just… everything is...” Despite how his throat was screaming at him to stop, the confused look Tubbo gave him prompted him to keep going. “It's overwhelming."

Tubbo gave him an awkward smile. "I can imagine. Have you been alone on this server the whole time?"

He shook his head.

"Alone other than Dream, I mean."

Oh. He nodded. 

"That sounds like it sucks."

"Wha-at?" His voice hitched halfway through the word, but he managed.

“It’s just that Dream is… He’s a lot, you know? And he’s always so mean and scary. I dunno, I think I might just be caught up thinking about when he tried to fence in the country a few years back.” Tubbo frowned, suddenly looking very lost in thought.

Tommy wasn't sure what to do about that. So he sat there uncomfortably, until the other boy spoke again. 

"Did Dream tell you everything about our mission?" Tubbo asked.

He didn't even know what the mission was. "No."

Even though he hadn’t seen him in years, Tommy could still read Tubbo like a book. That was expected, probably. The two had spent nearly every day together for years, starting as children and going up all the way to when they were teenagers. It all went downhill when Tommy was exiled- the first time- but they still were friends. Tommy could still read him.

So it was easy to tell that Tubbo’s smile was fake. It was strained, and though it reached his eyes, they didn’t wrinkle on the edges like they did with a real smile. There was a hint of concern there, too, that Tommy absolutely hated.

“Someone stumbled along some structure a few weeks ago. I- I say structure just because we’re not entirely sure what it is,” Tubbo spoke with his hands, Tommy noted. That was new. He wondered where the boy- man(?) picked that habit up. “But we want to investigate it. Look around, explore, even.”

Tommy nodded slightly when Tubbo finished, trying to give a visual cue that he was, in fact, listening. Listening was important, after all, and one should always show that they- he didn’t need to ramble off Dream’s lessons, even if they were ingrained into him.

“Dream said that he might have information on them. Well, he said his associate- you, I guess- has information.” Tubbo looked at him expectantly.

Tommy had been given no such information. He had very little knowledge of anything outside of Logstedshire, and even then, it was secondhand. He knew about L’manburg, he knew about some cottage in the snow (he thought it belonged to Phil, maybe). He knew about the Nether, he supposed, but Tubbo knew plenty about that.

Was he supposed to know something? Had he forgotten?

His heartbeat began to pick up. Had he already screwed up his test? He hadn’t meant to, but Dream hadn’t told him anything. Unless he had, and Tommy forgot. Was… Was that likely?

Tommy did have some memory issues. He could blame it on the explosions, or the wars, or the countless times he almost died in Logstedshire. In reality, though, he was probably always like this.

He had issues where he misremembered things. There were moments where he swore Dream had said one thing, but it turned out that he had said another. Or, he would remember Dream doing something he hadn’t. 

“Are you accusing me of something?” Dream would ask, hands on his hips. 

“No,” Tommy would always be quick to deny, “I just- I- I remember- you said-” It wouldn’t matter what he remembered, though. Not if he remembered it wrong.

It didn’t help that he seemed to have hallucinations. Not seemed to have, but actually have. Sometimes he would see Tubbo, sometimes Wilbur (er, Ghostbur, but that was a story for a different day), and on occasion, even Technoblade. Tommy didn’t like it when he saw Technoblade, though.

Tommy slowly shook his head. 

“Oh,” Tubbo sounded disappointed, and Tommy had no choice but to butt in. He needed to prove his usefulness, honestly afraid of what would happen to him if he didn’t. 

“I’m qui-ick on my feet,” He said, “I can he-elp in other- other ways.”

There was that smile again. He hated that smile. “Sounds good, Bossman.”

Tommy counted himself lucky that he didn’t have another breakdown on the spot.

Ranboo came back shortly afterwards with a glass of water in his hand, tail swishing slightly as he walked. Tommy took it carefully, holding it between his hands. He didn’t drink. If they asked about it, Tommy would tell them that he couldn’t drink through the mask. It wasn’t a lie, after all.

-----oOo-----

He slept in the White House, in some spare room far off from anything else. Maybe the spare room had always been there, but more likely it was just an extension, built after his exile. The room, though small, was immaculate. The sheets pressed, the curtains open, the flowers in a vase on the dresser.

There was a doorway inside which led to the bathroom, which Tommy could not have been more grateful for. He hadn’t realized quite how much he missed running water (actual running water, not just water from streams) until he was experiencing it again. He took his time to wash his hands, up to his elbows, as well as splash some water on his face.

A mirror sat above the sink. A person he didn’t recognize stared back at him.

Tommy didn’t look bad; he just looked tired, a bone-deep exhaustion that would never go away. The bags under his eyes looked like bruises- or maybe they were bruises, as he definitely had a few across his face, intermingled with old scabs and scars.

His hair was longer than he thought (though that may have just been because he kept it almost constantly in a ponytail), it hit right above his shoulders. It was a bleach blonde, too, much lighter than he remembered it being before. His eyes weren’t blue, but maybe they never were.

The best way to describe himself would be as a zombified version of Tommyinnit. Something that used to be him, but wasn’t anymore.

He didn’t spend a lot of time looking in the mirror.

Instead of sleeping in the bed, he slept on the floor, not feeling quite good enough to sleep in the bed. If anyone saw the bed untouched the next day, they didn’t say anything.

He spent most of the day wandering L’manburg in a haze. No one approached him. It was the opposite, actually, as people actively avoided him. He wondered if that was an effect of him looking like Dream (unlikely, Dream was wonderful), or if it was just because he was a stranger. He decided on the second option.

Ranboo brought him back to the White House in the late afternoon, saying that Tubbo wanted to talk to him. Before he knew it, he was seated at a table across from Tubbo.

Thank goodness for Tubbo- that felt blasphemous to even think. Tubbo exiled him, Tubbo ruined him, Tubbo- 

Tubbo gave him the best opportunity to grow. He let him become a better person. Was Tommy a better person, though, after all? He still felt awful. And he did deserve to be exiled… He wasn’t sure, it was weird.

Anyway, Tubbo explained what was going to happen.

He and Tommy were going on a four day journey on foot to reach the structure (as well as a four day journey home). From there, they would decide if it was safe or not. They would take detailed notes on everything they saw in hopes of gaining knowledge on the subject.

It was pretty straightforward. Tommy understood his assignment, and it wouldn’t be that bad.

He would have to apologize for lashing out at Dream when the idea was first proposed.

“I figured we can head out at dawn tomorrow,” Tubbo asked, looking at Tommy, expectantly.

Tommy nodded at that, forcing enthusiasm into his body language, even if he didn’t feel particularly enthusiastic. Tubbo’s expression softened, just a little bit.

“Hey, since it’ll be the two of us for a while, I wanted to ask: what do you go by?”

Tommy’s throat tightened at the front. It was pretty obvious that Dream didn’t want Tubbo to know it was him, which was fine, but for the life of him, Tommy couldn’t come up with an alternate name.

“I can give you one, if you want,” Tubbo suggested. Before Tommy could reply, the boy started listing, “Noah, Carl, Gamer-boy, Lightning-”

“Theseus.”

There was a long moment of silence. Tommy almost expected to get hit, judging by Tubbo’s shocked face at the name.

“Theseus,” Tubbo repeated, slowly, testing the words on his tongue. He swallowed slowly. “Theseus,” He said, once more, “Okay.”

Tommy looked down at the floor, relieved that the mask hid his face, sure it would be red in embarrassment right now.

“It’s a good name, really,” Tubbo assured him, “I just- it reminded me of someone. That’s all.”

Of course, Tubbo would have negative memories of Tommy. He hated Tommy, after all. That was fine, though, because Tommy had grown because of it. He was stronger now. He-

“I-” Tubbo started to say something, but cut himself off. “I’m glad we talked this out, Theseus. Ranboo will drop off a bag for you tonight, and we can meet outside of the whitehouse in the morning.” He shoved his chair back suddenly, making Tommy flinch in surprise. 

Tommy quickly scooted his chair back as well, trying to match Tubbo’s movements, unsure of the situation.

“I have, uh, president things to attend to. See you tomorrow.” And then Tubbo shoved past him, quickly. Nervously. The door slammed closed behind him. Tommy left shortly afterwards.

-----oOo-----

Tommy didn’t open the door when Ranboo dropped his pack off. He didn’t open it until he had heard Ranboo’s footsteps disappear, and he had counted to a thousand.

Ranboo was a complication that Tommy didn’t want to face. And Tommy being Tommy, simply didn’t face it. How could he? He was a coward, after all. A coward, and a traitor, and-

He didn’t get much sleep that night, but still managed to drag himself off of the floor and head out to the front of the White House a half-hour before sunrise.

Tubbo showed up two hours later, panting. He looked a little surprised to see Tommy there, and for a moment, he panicked, wondering if he had forgotten his mask. He hadn’t, and the panic subsided.

“Sorry, Bossman,” Tubbo said, adjusting the pack on his shoulder. “I hope I didn’t make you wait long?”

He had. Still, Tommy shook his head.

“Oh, good. Michael just didn’t want to stay at the babysitters today, so it was a whole ordeal.” Tubbo had already started walking. 

Tommy didn’t have to rush to keep up with Tubbo. Even if he hadn’t gotten used to matching Dream’s long strides, Tubbo was significantly shorter than him. In another life, he would have teased him about this, but now…

“He doesn’t like the babysitters,” Tubbo continued, oblivious to Tommy’s inner monologue, “Though I’m not sure why. I mean, he’s really attached to me and Ranboo, which I guess makes sense, but I still thought it would be a little easier, you know?”

Tubbo was looking at him expectantly, waiting for a response, but Tommy felt like a deer in headlights. Because Tubbo was staring at him. Tubbo, his best friend- ex best friend, his old right-hand man, his Tubbo. Tommy’s breathing picked up again.

He nodded, then croaked out the question of, 

“Who’s Michael?”

“Oh!” Tubbo slapped a hand against his forehead, grinning. “Michael’s my son.”

“He- what?” Tommy’s eyes widened under his mask. His surprise earned a laugh from Tubbo.

“Adopted son. Me and Ranboo found him alone in the Nether and took him home with us. We’ve been raising him for the past two years.” 

Tommy took a deep breath before nodding once again.

“Oh, and if you even think about hurting him,” His voice darkened, “I’ll peel the skin off your bones myself.”

“I- uh-huh, yeah.” Tommy agreed. 

And just like that, Tubbo snapped back to his happy persona. “But Michael is great. He’s mute- but fully mute, not selectively like you. We’re learning sign language for him, though. It’s going… Well, it’s going.” He laughed again.

They stopped at the armory for a brief moment, picking up a few weapons and shields before leaving. Tommy nearly grabbed some armor, but thought better of it. Dream wouldn’t like that.

And then they were off. Tubbo talked for a frankly ridiculous amount of time about his ‘son’. Michael was apparently a piglin- or at least, something like that. He was four years old, fully mute, and he loved drawing. Tommy had heard at least three embarrassing stories about the kid so far, and he was sure he would get many more before the trip was over.

For a brief moment, he thought about how fun it would be to tease Michael about it when he was older.

Except, that wouldn’t happen. He would finish this mission and go right back to Dream. Back to exile.

Part of him wondered, though, if there was anything he could do to change that. If he did well enough on the trip, would Dream let him stay longer? Even just another day in L’manburg would be like heaven. He hadn’t realized how much he missed civilization until he came back.

Logstedshire was nice and all (was it, really?) but L’manburg was home.

No, no, hang on, it wasn’t home. It hadn’t been home in a long time. Not since Wilbur and he were exiled, not since Tubbo became president, not since it all went out with a bang.

“Can I call you Theo?” Tubbo asked, suddenly.

Tommy snapped his head quickly to look at Tubbo, confused. He couldn’t get any words out, but he hoped the slight tilt of his head was enough to convey the emotion. 

“The name Theseus just… It comes with some bad memories, you know?”

Ah. Tubbo considered Tommy a bad memory. That… Wasn’t surprising. Still, it hurt more than it probably should have.

“Besides,” Tubbo added, quickly, “Theo is really just a nickname for it, anyway. Plus, it’s easier to say.”

Tommy looked at him for a long moment, then nodded.

“Theo it is, then.” Tubbo grinned. “It’s a good name.”

-----oOo-----

The first issue arrived when the sun was high in the sky. Tubbo abruptly dropped down on the grass, leaning against a tree. He removed his backpack from his shoulders and started rifling through.

Slowly, hesitantly, Tommy mirrored his movements. Although where Tubbo's movements were smooth and relaxed, Tommy’s were stiff and uncomfortable. 

“Lunch,” Tubbo explained, pulling out a sack from the backpack. “Ranboo packed you one, too, it’s- oh, in your hand, there you go.”

Tommy stared at the brown paper bag in his hand blankly, not entirely sure of what he was supposed to do with it. Eat what was inside of it, obviously, but the task felt difficult.

The bag reminded him of when he was little, when Wilbur would pack him lunches before sending him off to marketplaces or wherever else to do… Something. Tommy couldn’t quite remember what. In reality, it was probably Wilbur just getting Tommy to entertain himself while Wilbur did actual, paying work.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Tubbo asked, mouth full with a bite of sandwich. Tommy bit back a comment about manners.

Tommy glanced at his own bag, unopened, before looking up at Tubbo. “Ca-an’t.” He said, firmly.

This wasn’t a ‘he needed permission to eat’ situation, if that was a concern. Tommy ate whenever he pleased (so long as Dream hadn’t explicitly told him not to). It was just…

“Why not?”

“Mask.” The mask covered his face from forehead to chin, hiding all of his features, including but not limited to his mouth, making it impossible to eat with it on.

“Can’t you just take it off? Or is it some religious thing? This isn’t some sort of Dream cult, is it?”

Tommy let out a laugh that turned into a cough. “No- no cult,” He assured, a smile growing on his lips. 

“But still no taking the mask off,” Tubbo guessed. 

Dream had said not to. Technically, it was probably fine if Tommy was completely alone in, like, a locked room or something, but this was far from the case. It was pretty clear that no one was supposed to know Tommy’s true identity, and even though he had physically changed a lot in exile, it wasn’t worth the risk.

Tubbo would recognize him immediately (probably) anyway.

Tubbo thought for a moment. “Is it about the mask or your face?” Tubbo asked, slowly setting his sandwich down next to him.

“Face.”

“Oh!” He looked relieved. “That’s easy, then. Come here-” Before he knew it, Tubbo was on his feet and was grabbing onto Tommy’s arm, dragging him to a shady spot underneath a tree. 

Tubbo dragged them into position. They both sat in the grass, Tommy’s knees pulled to his chest while Tubbo sat criss-cross. Their backs were to each other, the fabric of Tubbo’s shirt lightly pressing into Tommy’s. 

“You can take the mask off, now. I won’t look- not that I could, anyway. My back’s turned to you, big man- but you can already see that.” He heard the tell-tale sound of Tubbo taking another bite of sandwich.

That was… Smart. Sweet, even. Would Tubbo have done it if he knew who Tommy was? Probably not, but, still. The fact that he had done it for a stranger still meant something, he thought.

He carefully reached back behind his head, pulling at the clasp of the elastic, other hand moving forward to catch the mask before it fell. He placed it next to him.

The breeze was cool on his face.

“Tha-anks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

They didn’t eat in silence. Not with Tubbo there, who seemed to be talking enough for the both of them.

“You know, I used to try and hide my scars, too,” Tubbo said, shifting slightly. “I had these gross bandages on my face and neck all the time- it looked grizzly, honestly.”

Tommy didn’t reply, confused at where the conversation was going. Why was Tubbo bringing up scars?

“I hated them. I- I don’t know if I hated them because they changed what I looked like, or because they reminded me of bad times, but… I hated them. I refused to let anyone see me if they weren’t covered. It was rough,” Tubbo spoke softly.

Tommy let out a quiet sigh in response, not sure how to respond to that. It explained why Tubbo brought it up, though. Tubbo thought he was hiding scars.

“But then I remembered I had this friend. He was a bit of a clutz,” A quiet laugh, “Always getting into scrapes and stuff. He was covered in scars and he- he would talk about them so proudly.”

Tommy racked his brain, trying to figure out who Tubbo was talking about. He couldn’t come up with anyone.

“He always said they were proof that he won the battle- even if it wasn’t really a battle. Then, he’d always go “you should see the other guy”.” He laughed again. “So I started by showing Ranboo. He was fine with them, and so I started covering them less and less until I was just… Me, I guess.”

A noise escaped Tommy’s throat. It wasn’t particularly positive or negative, just a noise to let Tubbo know he was listening. 

“It’s not like I’m happy with the scars, but it’s nice to not have to spend so much energy to cover them up.”

He hummed. 

“If you want to show me-”

“No.” Tommy said quickly, pushing down the panic that rose in his voice. “No, thank you.”

“Oh,” Tubbo said, surprise evident, “Okay, that’s- that’s fine, yeah.”

They lapsed into silence. They both finished lunch before Tubbo spoke again.

“We should start walking again. Hey, if we make good time, we might even get there early.”

-----oOo-----

They set up camp a few hours after nightfall. Tubbo pitched their tent as Tommy built a campfire- nothing large, but big enough to (hopefully) deter any hungry monsters nearby. It was a good little campsite. It reminded Tommy of his first days in exile, and- 

Okay, that was a road he wasn’t willing to go down.

Despite Tubbo saying it was safe, Tommy insisted he would take watch. You could never be too careful, he said.

In reality, he just wasn’t sure how he was going to sleep with the mask on. Though the porcelain was nice in terms of aesthetics, it was quite uncomfortable, and chafed against his face awkwardly. It was uncomfortable to wear during the day, and seemed unbearable to sleep with it on. But it was to keep Tubbo from recognizing him, so it remained firmly fastened against his face. 

Granted, he probably could remove it, as he could hear Tubbo lightly snoring from inside the tent, but… He found himself nervous. On edge, even, from their lunch. Realistically, Tommy knew Tubbo wouldn’t force him to show his face, but the thought still scared him.

It shouldn’t, not really. Tommy didn’t even care what Tubbo thought. Tubbo had exiled him, he hated Tubbo!

But sitting outside of the tent after going on what was basically a long hike with him, it was hard to feel that hate as strongly as he had before.

He hated Tubbo.

Maybe if he repeated that enough times, he’d finally believe it.

…

There was a tree in the distance that sort of looked like Ranboo if you squinted the right way. Maybe it was actually an Enderman, but Tommy didn’t really care so long as it was in the distance.

…

He really did hate Tubbo. He did, truly. It was just… Hard to remember sometimes, especially when Tubbo was being so nice to him.

…

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but one moment he was dozing as he leaned against the tent, and the next, a blanket was draped over him.

-----oOo-----

They quickly fell into routine, walking alongside each other, careful to stay within the other’s sight so as to not get lost. Tommy stuck to this especially, as Tubbo was the one with the map and the compass.

Tommy had caught Tubbo staring at the compass several times, though Tommy refused to look at it too long. It just reminded him of how Tubbo had thrown away his own compass, the one that Ghostbur had specifically made for him and Tommy.

Granted, Tommy no longer had his ‘Your Tubbo’ compass now, either, but that had happened long after Tubbo destroyed his own compass, so it felt only fair.

The two would eat meals with their backs facing each other, Tubbo rambling about whatever came to his mind as Tommy listened, occasionally getting his voice to work enough to get out a few words in reply.

Tubbo had yet to ask about the issue of Tommy’s voice, and he couldn’t help but be a little grateful for it. It wasn’t a fun story.

At night, they both begrudgingly agreed to each take a shift on watch, though Tommy didn’t want to split the work and Tubbo didn’t want to keep watch at all. According to Tubbo, the only reason he did it was because “you need sleep, big man”, to which Tommy glared at him.

Routine changed as they trekked through a forest, Tubbo carefully weaving through the trees, Tommy following, struggling a little bit more. 

“Hey, Theo?” Tubbo asked, glancing at the compass before continuing in the same direction he had been heading.

Tommy hummed in acknowledgement of the question, carefully walking behind him.

“If two astronauts were on the moon, and one killed the other, would that be messed up or what?”

He couldn’t help the terrible noise that came out of his mouth, a mix between a bark, a laugh, and a squawk. He had to admit that it sounded a little bit funny, especially judging by Tubbo’s reaction, because the other boy immediately went into hysterics. 

“Wha-at?” Tommy forced out, chest shaking from laughter himself. 

“It would be though, wouldn’t it?” Tubbo challenged through laughs.

“It- it would, but-”

“So you agree with me! Thank you, Theo!” Tubbo grinned.

Tommy snorted, shaking his head in dismay.

He missed this.

No, he didn’t. 

No, he did. He couldn’t remember the last time he laughed- truly laughed- before now.

And then, in seconds, it was over, as Tommy came to a sudden halt, going deathly still.

Tubbo didn’t notice, carrying on ahead, laughing to himself. “Really, though. All alone in a spaceship and then the other guy just- BAM!” 

Tommy slowly turned his head to the left, trying to figure out what set him off. There was something wrong- something bad about the forest. Maybe not the whole forest, but this specific area, at the very least. Tubbo still hadn’t noticed.

And then he saw it. A small purple glow- enchanted armor. A helmet, maybe? And- and a bow. A skeleton, then. That would be easy to take on.

He pulled his small sword from his sheath, turning his body to fully face the monster lurking in the near distance.

The hairs on his arms stood on end- an effect of the enchanted weapons the skeleton held, its bones clacking as it moved. 

As soon as its head turned to look at Tommy, he rushed forward and slashed. It was always a bad habit of his growing up, and he still had yet to learn from it, but rushing into a battle just felt right. This wasn’t much of a battle anyway, considering it took only two slashes of his sword to render the skeleton immobile.

Tommy grabbed a few arrows off of the ground and stuffed them into his bag. Another bad habit, collecting useless things. His hoarding was the worst in the early days of exile, but…

“Theo?” Tubbo shouted, worry evident in his voice.

Oh, oops. He hadn’t exactly told Tubbo where he was going- which he really should have. Dream didn’t like when he was out of sight, and even though Tubbo wasn’t Dream, most of those base rules still applied, didn’t they?

He tried to yell back a response, but the words turned to ash in his throat. It didn’t quite matter, though. He wasn’t far from Tubbo, he could just-

“Theo? Where are you, boss man?” Tubbo’s worry had only grown.

Tommy rolled his eyes before heading back to Tubbo. Overdramatic, much? He had only walked away for maybe a minute (or five), it wasn’t that big of a deal. 

Or it wouldn’t have been a big deal, if Tommy had paid more attention to his surroundings.

He should have heard the telltale hiss, but he didn’t. All he heard was a loud CRACK, and all he felt was white-hot pain.

“I told you, Tommy.”

Why was Dream there? How did he get there? It- it didn’t make sense. Dream wasn’t there, he couldn’t be-

He was in Logstedshire. He was in Logstedshire again- or maybe he had never left. Dream stood above him, and though Tommy’s eyes were screwed shut with pain, he was sure the man was looking down at him distastefully.

Tommy screamed. Dream was next to him, screaming back, although where Tommy was making incomprehensible noises, Dream was actually speaking. 

“Put your things in the hole, Tommy.”

“I don’t- I can’t--” He gasped, struggling to get the words out. He was on the ground, though couldn’t remember falling. He… Couldn’t remember how he got there in the first place. Maybe that didn’t matter right now, not when Dream was shouting at him.

“Get up, Tommy. You’re pathetic, you know that? You can’t do anything right. This was a basic instruction.”

Tommy choked out an apology, scrambling to his feet. Someone- it must have been Dream- grabbed his arms, though not in an angry way. No, he was holding Tommy lightly, steadying him. That was good, he was definitely swaying a little.

He was on autopilot as he stepped backwards, swaying a little more. He pulled the pack off of his shoulder and tossed it on the ground in front of him.

“What are you doing?” Dream asked, but it didn’t sound quite right. Tommy didn’t bother to question why.

“Put-ting my stuff in-” He coughed before continuing, “The hole.”

“What hole? Theo, what are you talking about?” 

Theo?

“The- the hole,” He repeated, confused. He blinked once. Twice. Three times, clearing his vision from the smoke.

Dream wasn’t standing in front of him. He wasn’t in Logstedshire.

Tommy stood in a forest on shaking legs, a backpack resting at his feet. Tubbo stood across from him, arms halfway extended towards Tommy, ready to catch him if he fell again. That was probably for the best, as Tommy felt like he was about to pass out. 

His hands tingled, and he glanced down, surprised to see the right sleeve of his sweater burned all the way up to his elbow. And- oh, gross; there were burn marks reaching from his hand up to his arm, too.

“Are you okay?” Tubbo asked, face screwed up in worry.

Tommy gave him a nod, slowly reaching down and picking up the backpack. “Creeper,” He mumbled, the word setting off a brief fit of coughing. 

“I can get you health pot-”

“I’m fine,” Tommy said, quickly. Probably too quickly, but frankly, he didn’t care. “Let’s- sorry- let’s go.”

Tubbo gave him a nervous look, but once Tommy pushed past him to walk, Tubbo quickly followed.

It was a slower pace than before, he realized. Tubbo must have been slowing down for him, which was ridiculous, because he was fine. He was perfectly fine. The creeper just startled him a little, but to be fair, they’re pretty startling creatures to begin with.

After five minutes of silence, Tubbo couldn’t help but ask, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Tommy glanced at him for a moment, surveying him for any sign of insincerity. He couldn’t find any, but that didn’t calm him. He didn’t reply, but picked up the pace slightly.

-----oOo-----

When they ate dinner that night, Tubbo pressed his back against Tommy’s firmly, as if to keep Tommy from… Running away? He wasn’t sure the purpose of it, actually. But it felt strangely calming, so he didn’t move away.

After the sun set, Tubbo refused to let Tommy take watch.

“I’ll do it. You did it alone the first night, anyway, so it’s only fair,” Tubbo said, firmly.

Tommy groaned. “I can take watch,” He insisted.

“Nope. You got blown up by a creeper today, you need rest.”

“I do not-” He began to protest, but was quickly cut off.

“Doctor’s orders. Go.”

Tommy was always selfish, wasn’t he? The whole point of exile was to make him a better person, but still, he fell for the simplest things. His head hurt, he was tired, and so he slept in the tent, even if the mask was uncomfortable to wear to bed.