Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was the day for Wilbur’s weekly town trip. Tommy would usually come along, because, well, staying at home alone was terribly boring, and his brother didn’t trust him not to burn the house down on accident, but this time he was able to dodge it with the excuse of feeling unwell.

“You sure you don’t want me to stay with you?” Wilbur had asked, brows furrowed in concern as his hand lightly touched Tommy’s forehead. “The trip can wait for another few days.”

“And what are we going to eat in the meantime? Phil’s herbs?” Tommy didn’t jerk away from the touch but rolled his eyes and snorted loudly, “No, thank you. Besides, I feel fine. Just a bit tired, that’s all.”

Perhaps Tommy was too good of an actor. Yes, his pale face and shaking shoulders were the part of acting and not the effects of anxiousness and shame burning his insides. Tommy went over this decision a hundred times already, and he was not turning back when he had finally built up the courage to make it reality.

“Get some sleep, gremlin,” Wilbur ruffled his hair, gesture affectionate rather than mocking, “I am going to return as soon as possible.”

And with that, he was gone. Tommy waited until Wilbur's tall figure faded away in the shadows of the forest and sprinted for his room.

He kneeled and pulled out a bag from under the bed. Tommy did his best to narrow down its contents to the minimum necessities when he prepared it last night, but it still felt heavy on his shoulders. Spare clothes took the most place, wrapped around a small bundle of food - extra buns from the breakfast, pieces of jerky and a dozen of bright red apples and sweet carrots – everything he was able to gather in a week without Wilbur noticing. Not much, but that would have to do for the first week of his journey. Once he gets far enough from here, he could trade for more food in villages without the fear of being recognized and returned home.

Tommy went to Wilbur’s room next and felt his face reddening and heartbeat speeding up as he counted out a quarter of the golden coins from the drawer of his desk. It’s not stealing if he is stealing from his family, he had reassured himself as he slipped them into his own pocket. Besides, Wilbur won’t need to take care of Tommy anymore, and waste money on him eithe, so he could probably manage to handle until Phil returns home from whatever journey he went to this time.

With the bag on his shoulders and a compass in hand, Tommy gave his childhood home a very last look and speed walked away into the forest in the opposite direction of where WIlbur went.

Tommy didn’t make a hundred steps from the house when someone jumped on him from behind. He fell on the ground, screaming and swearing loudly as the person pinned him down and wrapped something around his wrists, all while Tommy fought and kicked violently, “WILL! HELP!”

The bastard must have knocked him out there, because the next thing Tommy knew, the world was pitch-black, and two voices argued somewhere head-achingly close to him.

“-is wrong with you?!”

“...”

“We discuss how we should start by earning his trust, and the first thing you do is knock out and kidnap him!”

On the second thought, it seemed more like the two voices were scolding someone third. There was a sound of pages being flipped, and then scribbling, like someone pulled out a notebook and written something inside it.

“It’s not kidnapping if we are him?” Someone yelled, obviously angry and frustrated, “Yes, it is! What is wrong with you?! You just kidnapped a child! ”

Okay, they are not making any sense right now. Tommy’s eyes slowly fluttered open, his face wincing from both the bright light and a mild headache, “I am not a child.”

And suddenly, three faces snapped at him in unison and Tommy felt his stomach flip.

One of them wore a mask, gleaming white, with a simple sad expression drawn on it. Two black dots – imitation of eyes – stared straight at Tommy unnervingly, but he managed to catch the flash of something in his hands before the object was shoved in the pocket of his bright-red hoodie. He didn’t try to hide a trident behind his back. Tommy never had seen any of these and took a moment to admire it before remembering that he was, in fact, kidnapped.

He should have probably tried to sneak away when the men were arguing. Too late to regret it. Tommy thrusted to the side, hoping to get a surprise advantage, and couldn’t move from one place. His hands hit something solid, “What the-”

“Hey, hey, calm down,” a second man stepped towards him, a long, stripped tail brushing against the ground, and a couple of white and dusty yellow ears poking out of his long, braided hair. They twitched constantly, unlike his face, which stayed with the same neutral, maybe slightly tensed expression. Tommy couldn’t really tell, because half of it was covered with a light blue scarf wrapped all around his head, the tip disappearing under a short red cape. (Furred collar, really? In this weather?). He raised his hands and kept them visible for Tommy, like he was approaching a wild animal. Which would have worked better if Tommy wasn’t literally tied up to a tree, back leaning tightly against the trunk.

“What do you want from me?” he spit.

“Uh, I guess we wanted to talk.” The Racoon man, as Tommy internally decided to call him, answered, sharing uncertain gaze with his companions.

Tommy raised a brow, “You three kidnapped me to talk? ”

“I have nothing to do with this!” The third guy yelled, finger pointing towards the Masked man, “It was all him!”

The most notable feature of his appearance was a pair of massive light-grey wings. Tommy never saw any other avian besides Phil in his life, but still couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact how small would have his feathered crow appendages look in comparison with this guy’s, especially if he spread them to the full wingspan. He had his face covered as well; Tommy started to see a pattern here, though this person had it arguable the weirdest. He could understand the scarf, the mask, even, but bandages? Was this guy cosplaying as a mummy, because it surely looked a lot like that. Skin barely visible under all that fabric, he had one of his eyes covered as well, and the other swirled with constant aggravation, like he didn’t like being here at all. Tommy could honestly relate to that feeling.

“Stranger-danger,” he muttered, “And here I am, thinking Wilbur was just being paranoid.”

The Racoon man caught his words, flinched strangely at the mention of Tommy’s brother, but managed to hide it in a shrug of his shoulders, “We are kind of sorry for this.”

Kind of.

“Are you going to untie me or something?” Tommy huffed, staring at the Avian. He seemed like the most adequate here right now, albeit a bit too loud for his headache’s liking.

“Sure thing, big man.”

Now this was an odd coincidence. Tommy had never heard anybody else in his life to use that nickname towards anyone, yet alone himself. He eyed the Avian suspiciously as the guy went around the tree and sliced the ropes on his wrists with something sharp.

“Wow, creeps.” Tommy rubbed the reddish skin, easing the weak, but unpleasant throb from where his hands had been tied to each other. “Have you been spying on me?”

The question sent all three of them into a suspicious silence.

“No,” Racoon man deadpanned.

The Masked guy stayed silent, tilting his head slightly to the side.

The Avian, however, appeared with a dagger in hand – wait, that was Tommy’s dagger – and scratched the back of his head, chuckling awkwardly.

“Heyy, we wanted to talk, didn’t we? Right, guys?”

Racoon man signed, “I told you we needed to make a plan first. Now this is going to be extremely uncomfortable conversation.”

They seemed distracted with each other again. Now that he was unbound, Tommy considered bolting into the forest, for a moment, but then he met a dead gaze from the white mask and suddenly lost any desire to move at all. He wasn’t scared. Tommy never got scared. But this guy, he seemed too odd, and apparently was the one to kidnap him in the first place. Maybe not mess with him much, yeah.

“Ah, forget it. We have messed this up too much already.”

Racoon reached for the scarf on his face and pulled it down.

Tommy swore loudly.

The man looked so much like him. Like Tommy. Same face shape, same chin, same mouth, literally everything on his face resembled his own, albeit the older man’s features had a sharper, rougher edge to them. His nose seemed noticeably crooked, like it was broken and healed several times in the past, and his eyes shone duller than Tommy’s diamond blue. A whole net of small white scars crossed his face, making it harder to tell the man’s exact edge. The Avian moved closer to Racoon’s side, making Tommy’s gaze unintentionally snap in his direction. When he gave it a longer, careful look, he noticed the fact the eye and hair color of the two matched perfectly with each other and almost perfectly – with himself.

“Tommy, we are your brothers.”

What.

“Like real, blood brothers.”

What.

This was getting so absurd Tommy had to double-check he wasn’t sleeping right now, because it sure did feel like an odd fever dream. Maybe he got sick after all or ate wrong mushrooms. Ugh, he knew he couldn’t trust Wilbur to make the stew yesterday, the guy always had a talent of making strange substances with strange effects. Drugs, he called, them, and jokingly talked about his plans of creating a drug empire one day. Tommy was supportive of the idea but not when he was the one getting drugged.

“So, let me get this straight,” Tommy cleared his throat, “You two claim to be my biological brothers?”

"Yeah, and we are also twins.”

Tommy skeptically eyed the stripped tail of one of the men and then snapped at the giant wings behind the back of the other. The Avian noticed his gaze and laughed nervously, “Genetics, aye?”

“Okay, but who is that supposed to be? My weird murderous cousin or something?”

The third man, the one wearing the unnerving white mask with a sad face on it, tensed, hand slipping on a handle of a netherite axe, and instantly received an elbow to the stomach from the avian.

“Yes. Our weird murderous cousin.”

That was supposed to be a joke.

Tommy could almost feel his own face stretching in what must have been the world’s most confused expression. This day was supposed to be the one when Tommy cut the ties with his family - or what was left of it, at least – and not gain a new one. Especially if it was the biological family.

Tommy was an orphan, wasn’t he? Or at least abandoned, because four-year-old children don’t normally wander around the forest alone only to be adopted by a stranger living in the said forest. Tommy didn’t remember anything from before he was taken in by Phil, like that part of his life was completely erased from his memory. He didn’t bother even to try to reach it, because he didn’t really need to, until now.

Either his family suddenly decided to remember him whole ten years later, or these guys were just a group of blatant liars, and Tommy would be more willing to believe the second version if it wasn’t for the fact they looked so much alike. He and the Racoon guy, at least. Not the Mask nor the avian had shown their faces yet.

“I don’t remember any of you, “Tommy grumped. “I don’t even know your names.”

Then there was the long silence again. Wow, they really could use some proper socialization.

“Theseus.” The Racoon introduced himself. Tommy couldn’t miss the glance the avian had thrown Theseus – an intense mix of irritation, hatred and disgust, clear as day even in the single eye - and was granted with the same expression in return. This was so much like Wilbur and Techno in the good old days that Tommy was almost ready to believe these guys were twins, too.

“And you?” he nodded at the avian.

“Uh, I guess you could call me Thomas.”

There was a short wheeze, cut out as suddenly as it started. Tommy almost missed the fact the Mask was the one to make it, the first sound he heard from him throughout the entire conversation.

“What is his deal?” he asked, facing Thomas and Theseus.

“Calls himself Lucid. Stupid, innit? He is mute - I am pretty sure he is just faking it, though – and he acts all cryptic and arrogant.“

A murderous gaze was instantly shot in his way. Thomas pulled up a middle finger on Lucid. Tommy barely even blinked, and Thomas was already running away with a high-pitched scream, the masked man close on his heels, absolutely silent, clenching a trident like he was about to pierce his head with it, which he probably was trying to do. Theseus eyed the scene with a clear expression of pain and suffering. He didn’t try to stop them, though, and Tommy assumed this wasn’t happening for the first nor the second time.

Lucid suddenly stopped, dropping his trident. Thomas’s halted, too, wings puffing up a bit and the scream dying in the favor of defeaning silence. Tommy followed their gazes and saw a tall figure stepping out of the forest, raising a loaded crossbow.

“Get away from by brother,” Wilbur growled.

Chapter Text

Uh oh.

UH OH.

Tommy didn’t think he had ever seen Wilbur being so mad, even during his fights with Techno.

Tommy didn’t think he had ever seen a weapon in his brother’s hands before, that’s how serious things had gotten.

Then he remembered the fact that WIlbur’s anger wasn’t aimed at him but on the strangers and suddenly the whole situation became rather amusing than scary, especially when he caught a glance of Thomas’s face. He looked like he had a stroke, a heart attack and a seizure all at the same time.

“Pastabur?” he mumbled.

Wilbur raised a brow, “What?”

Theseus facepalmed.

Lucid gave Thomas a mocking thumbs up.

The avian mouthed something that looked suspiciously like a swear word and Tommy chuckled involuntarily as he felt Theseus hand fall on his shoulder.

The tip of the arrow snapped from Thomas to the raccoon hybrid, “Get away from by brother, you trash panda, “Wilbur repeated, “Or I am going to shoot you.”

Thomas burst laughing, “Did you just call him a Trash Panda-”

“Shut up, Chickeninnit , “Theseus flared.

He must have spaced out there for a bit, because suddenly the twins started yelling profanities at each other, completely ignoring Wilbur and his still raised crossbow - Tommy’s own hands got tired just looking at him. His brother kept sending him half-concerned, half-reassuring glances, like, ‘Hold on there, I am going to save you’ kind of glances.

Does it look like I am in danger, he wanted to ask.

“No offense, WIl, but I don’t think you will actually shoot. I mean, do you even know how? ”

Okay, Wilbur looked like Tommy had snitched on him to Phil or ate the last chocolate cookie – slightly betrayed and like he was about to strangle him to death. Tommy rolled his eyes. Excuse me, you were the one who skipped the training sessions with Phil. Granted, they were initially meant for Techno, but nothing was stopping Wilbur from stubbornly including himself like Tommy did.

Theseus chuckled, pulling out an axe from behind his back, ears mockingly twitching, “The kid’s talking facts. You don’t seem like a warrior type of guy. Any of us three, or at least me and him,” he gestured towards Lucid, and Thomas, who had been actively nodding before that, let out an offended yelp. Theseus ignored him and continued, “We both can take you out single-handedly. Tommy goes with us, whether you like it or not.”

Wait, what?

There was a groan from Thomas as he covered his face with his hand, “Oh no, are we executing the plan B?”

“Exactly.”

As on command, Lucid clenched his trident and shifted into a battle stance smoothly, and Theseus’s axe swung in the air few feet from Wilbur, his brother jerking away on instinct. Thomas stepped in front of Tommy, almost fully blocking out his view. He gave Tommy a quick glance, something very deeply apologetic, shameful in it, “Uh, I don’t think you would want to see what is about to happen.”

Tommy did not like the sound of that.

“What do you mean-” he peaked out from behind the avian’s back just to see Theseus beat out the crossbow from Wilbur’s hand. Lucid raised his trident and -

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Tommy screamed, this time genuinely terrified.

His brother face-planted onto the ground, unconscious.

“Bruh, calm down,” Theseus commented. “It’s not a big deal.”

Lucid waved the blunt end of the trident in the air for Tommy to see. Oh, so that was why the back of his head hurt so much when he woke up earlier.

Tommy grumped, “Does this guy always solve his problems by knocking out and kidnapping people?”

Lucid nodded cheerfully. This or he had a very violent spasm of the neck.

“Pretty much, yeah, but mostly without the kidnapping part. That is meant exclusively for you,” Theseus snorted.

“How long is he going to be out?”

Lucid sheepishly shrugged his shoulders, and Theseus poked Wilbur’s side with his boot. Tommy jumped to him and shoved him away, frowning and huffing angrily, “Hey, stop that!”

“Alright,” Theseus shrugged his shoulders, moving away. He glanced at his companions, “We should get going, now.”

"Yeah, get lost, you three,” Tommy said.

Uh. Maybe that wasn’t a very good idea. The trio had their gazes locked on Tommy again, and he suddenly felt like a mouse surrounded by three cats. Well, by a raccoon, a bird and... A human with a suspiciously good skill of knocking out people.

“Are going to kidnap me again?” Tommy crossed his arms on his chest.

Oh, the betrayal. How could the strangers he knew for less than an hour stab him in the back like that! It will probably end up giving him very long-lasting trust issues.

“No, you are going to go with us voluntarily. Mandatory voluntarily.” Theseus took a step forward, and Tommy took two back.

It was Thomas who came to his defense again, “We are not making him a S to the L to the A to the V.”

“Slav?” Tommy repeated, “But that doesn’t make any sense.”

“We will need to teach you that part later...” Thomas mumbled, distracted, but then started actively swinging his hands in the air,” But don’t listen top that jerk. And Lucid, put the trident down or I am going to shove it- ”

Thomas jumped with a girly scream when the trident flew an inch close to his arm and pierced the tree behind him, “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU-”

“Just stop provoking him, idiot,” Theseus huffed. “You know he is the most emotionally unstable between us.”

Lucid gave Theseus a murderous look. Hey, Tommy didn’t even need to run. If he will wait for long enough, maybe these guys just will end up killing each other. Now that would be a fun thing to explain to Wilbur when he wakes up.

Wait a minute, Tommy was going to escape-

“Are you looking for this?” Theseus snorted, lifting his bag in the air.

Despicable, holding a hostage against him like that, “Give it back.”

“Nah, unless you come with us.”

Theseus barely finished a sentence before he was slapped by Thomas’s grey wing across his face and the bag was yanked out of his hands by Lucid. The two gave each other what looked like a glance of understanding. Lucid tossed the bag over to Tommy, and Thomas growled, “Don’t dare to threaten him, ever. ”

Theseus backed off under that collective pressure, ears pressed flat and tail swinging in irritation, “Whatever.”

The avian gestured Tommy to come closer, to which he complied. Thomas was on his side here, heavily so, as far as he could judge. Let’s see how far that can go.

“You are my favorite fake brother yet,” he announced.

Thomas gasped, offended, “I am not fake. Theseus, maybe, but I am not.”

“That is, “Tommy nodded at still unconscious WIlbur, “is my real brother. And you three are just scammers. I know a scammer when I see one. Do you want to know how?”

“...Because you are one?”

“Exactly.”

Thomas huffed and picked up Tommy’s brother by his armpits, “Then help me to get him inside the house. Bet you don’t want him to get munched on by mobs.”

“Why don’t you ask your brother and your cousin to help?”

“Do they look very helpful to you?”

Tommy turned towards Theseus and Lucid, who were actively trying to get the latter’s trident out of the tree. It came out and whistled as it pierced the air only to sunk into a birch trunk dozen of feet across the previous one. Theseus jumped aside, bumped into Lucid and sent him falling to the ground.

Tommy wheezed. Lucid rolled onto his stomach, saw his weapon, saw Tommy choking on laughter and decided to stay laying on the ground. Tommy could bet that his face under the mask had the ‘please kill me already’ kind of expression right now.

“Okay, fair enough,” Tommy cheered, picking up WIlbur by his legs.

He couldn’t say his brother was that heavy, especially with Thomas taking majority of the weight on his side, but he was long and the two of them couldn’t synchronize their steps and ended up either stretching or squeezing Wilbur all the way towards the house. The real pain started, however, when the order came to carrying him through the entrance. Apparently, Thomas’s wings couldn’t fit through the doorway even in their folded state.

“That is why my house has a double door entrance,” he mumbled angrily.

“Phil never had such a problem.” Tommy noted, before remembering these guys probably didn’t know who Phil was, “He is, uh, Wil’s father. An avian, too.”

Thomas looked like he was about to space out there, then suddenly grumped, “Oi, let him try having an eighteen feet wingspan then. I bet he wouldn’t fit anywhere either. Okay, let me try this.”

The avian stretched his wings to the full length and oh shoot they seemed like minimum ten feet each to Tommy, long and narrow, feathers white and light grey with only the tips and the outer side covered in darker spots. They didn’t look like carefully cared about, though, not as much as Phil’s did, at least.

“You know preening exist?” Tommy commented.

Thomas gave him a flat look that literally screamed, ‘Don’t continue pushing this topic.” Of course, the first thing Tommy did was the only thing he was asked not to, “Touchy subject, innit?”

“I can’t believe I am getting patronized by a child. ”

“I am not a child!”

“You are literally fourteen.”

“You are literally a Chicken.”

“I am a wandering albatross , to your knowledge,” Thomas sounded deeply offended, “The biggest bird in the entire world. That is the exact opposite of the chicken.”

“Don’t call me a child, and I will not call you a chicken.”

“Deal, “ Thomas huffed and brought his wings closer like he was about to make a flap, and slowly walked backwards, still holding Wilbur. Feathered appendages fit through rather easy this time and they successfully carried him inside the living room. Thomas tossed WIlbur on the couch as if he was a bag of trash, “My back huuuurts.”

He stretched, with a rather loud crunch, and his still spread wings caught on a porcelain vase on the table in front of the couch. The thing shattered instantly as it hit the ground, “Ooops. Uh. Do you have a broom in the house?”

“Try not to break anything else.” Tommy huffed. “Fold you wings or something, man.”

He went into the hallway to get to the pantry. Just as he pulled out the broom, he saw the tip of a raccoon tail slipping through the kitchen door.

“I don’t remember allowing you to enter the house.” Tommy deadpanned.

Theseus obviously heard him coming from the way his ears twisted backwards, but didn’t bother to turn around, hands rummaging through the kitchen cabinets. He pulled out a jar with dried carnation, wincing from the smell as soon as he opened the cap.

“Do you have any gapples? I am starving.” He chattered.

Yeah, of course, Tommy will serve him golden apples on a silver plate.

The broom landed on Theseus’s head with a precision that could impress even The Blade. Tommy didn’t give his opponent any time to react as he slammed it again, “Get out now, you Trash Panda.”

Theseus’s eyes went wide, thrusting away from the cabinets and retreating into a corner with a resentful face. Tommy could swear he heard him hiss like a literal raccoon just as Thomas entered the kitchen.

“You unlocked his secret weakness,” the avian solemnly raised his finger, “ The Broom . Hold on to that weapon, great hero, savior of the universe.”

“Quit screwing around, both of you.” Theseus snarled, straightening up, “We have a long journey ahead, and we have literally nothing on us: no food, no money, nothing.”

“That sounds like your problem. I didn’t say I am going with you, did I?” Tommy crossed his arms on his chest.

Theseus looked like he was about to object, but then Thomas stepped in between them, gesturing his twin towards the door, “Let me handle this.”

Tommy watched the raccoon hybrid narrow his eyes and disappear through the door. He and Thomas were left alone in the room. The avian closed the cabinets left wide open by Theseus, putting jars and bags in place exactly where they laid before. One would think Thomas owned this kitchen from how fast and confident his movements were.

“You were going to leave anyway, weren’t you?” He asked with his back turned. “Like, permanently leave.”

“So, you were spying on me.”

“Maybe, “Thomas’s wings twitched in a way that told Tommy that the answer was actually a solid yes; at least he had the decency to put some regret in his voice, “but that’s not the point. If you were going to escape, why don’t go with us?”

“I will give you one better – why do go with you?”

“It’s safer.”

They literally tried to kidnap him, multiple times. And carried around deadly weapons. And also tried to kill each other with them. How in the world could that sound safe?

“I am more than capable of protecting myself.” He said instead.

“It’s more fun, then.”

Well, watching them argue with each other was actually kind of funny to watch-

“And it’s not as lonely this way, too,” Thomas added.

Tommy opened his mouth to object again but paused. Thomas felt his hesitance and slowly turned around, staring at him with his single eye.

“You want to see the world, don’t you?” He asked. “Escape your cage and go on an adventure, earn yourself a name, like other people do, you know?”

Oh, Tommy did know. Thomas sounded so sus right now, but oh boy that was exactly what he wanted. Find new lands, meet new people, participate in something interesting, in something meaningful. To be a traveler like Phil. Or maybe become a great warrior like Techno. Honestly, anything was better than being stuck in the middle of the forest on the outskirts of the world and feel left out of everything, always.

“We will help you, protect you, stay by your side, keep you company. ” Thomas said. “You may not believe us to be your brothers outright, but at least let us be your travel companions.”

It didn’t sound that bad.

It didn’t sound bad at all.

“So, you are experienced in travelling?” Tommy asked, but really, inside his mind, the decision had already been made.

“More than you can imagine,” Thomas confirmed. “So, are you with us?”

“Yeah. I think I am.”

Thomas’s grin was visible even under the layer of bandages on his face. He patted Tommy on his back, “Let’s get you packed, then!”

Without any further warning, he walked from the kitchen and to the staircase leading to the second floor. Tommy rushed after him, “I already have my bag-”

“-Full of useless items that you will probably end up losing in the first week of your travel.” Thomas interrupted. “Trust me, you are going to need so much more things than just a couple sets of clothing. The dagger though, that’s a good choice. Keep it close to yourself.”

Tommy blinked, and the blade was already being offered to him on an open palm. Where does he keep it hiding at?!

“Don’t steal anything, or I am going to stab you, “he deadpanned as they went past the bedrooms on the second floor to the door at the very end of the hallway – Tommys’ room.

“I don’t steal, unless it is absolutely necessary. Theseus, though, he is a real thief. Take The Broom with yourself and always keep an eye on him. He will snatch half of your house and will commit war crimes on the first opportunity he gets.”

They entered the bedroom, and Thomas glanced around it with an expression Tommy couldn’t quiet read.

“Get a bigger bag. Pack more clothes, your blanket, tools, if you have any, flint and steel, backup pair of shoes, and a lantern.” He listed absently.

Tommy thrust for the said objects one by one. He didn’t have a bigger bag than the one he had already been carrying, so all the items have been divided between several he could find around the house.

“By the way, do you have a set of spare clothes? Like, maybe something gifted by your brothers- I mean brother, yeah, that Wilbur guy?”

Tommy scratched the back of his head, “Maybe. Why?”

Thomas gestured to his own clothes. Tommy didn’t pay his outfit that much attention before this moment, focused more on his face and wings, “You look homeless.”

“Really? I didn’t notice.”

Tommy chuckled. He opened his closet and tossed Thomas an old sweater and a pair of pants, “Does this work?”

“Yeah, thanks. Where do you keep the first aid kit? We are going to need that as well.”

“Under the bathroom sink. That is on the opposite end of the hallway.”

Thomas dissolved into thin air. Well, technically, he sprinted for the bathroom. Maybe he has a diarrhea or something, Tommy could understand that.

He finished packing and carried the bags down the stairs and to the entrance, making a small pile. At this point, it looked like he was about to move out rather than escape. Tommy carried The Broom past the doorway of the living room and froze as he caught a slight movement in the corner of his eyes.

It turned out to be a false alarm. Just Wilbur rolling to his side on the couch, eyes sill shut. Tommy wondered how many bruises he was going to get from all the times he and Thomas accidentally dropped him on the entrance steps. Hopefully, he won’t get mad at him for that.

For a second, Tommy let himself consider the possibility of never meeting his brother again, but dismissed the thought almost immediately. The original plan was to travel around for a bit, get on new adventures, and write Wilbur a letter once he finds a place he would like to settle at. Nothing changed except now he had three new travel companions.

Oh, they didn't seem to be very fond of his brother? Not a problem, he could send that letter secretly.

Tommy was so deep in his thoughts that he didn’t realize someone was standing behind him until he was lightly tapped on his shoulder, “Are we going- AAAAAAAH-”

A hand was slapped across his mouth, “Don’t scream you are going to wake him up-”

Wait a minute, he recognized that voice.

“Thomas?” Tommy muffled through man’s fingers, “Why is your face is so ugly?”

That was an understatement of the century. Covered in nasty bruises and cuts from forehead to chin, it scared the living out of Tommy on the first sight. So, the bandages weren't just a tribute to fashion then. Thomas removed them all, but kept one of his eyes covered by a wide piece of fabric that was tied at the back of his head just under a small ponytail. He changed into the sweater Tommy had given him, but rolled up the sleeves a bit and wrapped new clean bandages from his elbows down to the hands in an imitation of long fingerless gloves.

“I faceplanted on obsidian twenty-seven times.”

How? Just... How?”

A pause.

“Obsidian is very slippery.”

“No it is not.”

“Yes it is.”

A knock on the glass made them both jump at the same time. Lucid and Theseus stood behind the window. ‘Hurry up’, the raccoon mouthed.

“Let’s finish that conversation some other time.” Thomas sounded relieved. “We really need to keep going now. Do you want to leave Wilbur a note or something?”

Tommy paused. He didn’t really know if he wanted to. What could he possibly write? ‘Sorry, brother, I left with these random strangers because I can't stand being here anymore’?

“Is he going to follow us if I don’t?” He asked.

“Maybe he will try to follow you for several months, accidentally ends up going in completely different direction, starts a family with a fish until he gets a lead on where you are and rushes there with his toddler fox hybrid son?”

...What drugs is this guy on?

Tommy’s face must have told it all, because Thomas instantly burst laughing only to stop a moment later, wincing from the pain of disturbed injuries, “What? My guess is as good as yours.”

Chapter Text

Everything was going fine this far.

With each step, they got further and further from both Tommy’s childhood home and the Dream SMP, and closer to the wilderness. Lucid remembered this part of the forest, even if briefly, but it would probably require less than a day for them to get into the unexplored lands.

Well, that would be less than a day of effective walking and not someone specific constantly annoying Lucid out of his mind.

“Who is the smart one now, mister ‘kidnapping people can solve all of our problems?’”

Thomas tried to rub his success in Lucid’s face, so Lucid rubbed Thomas’ face in dirt in return.

Like, literally.

Thomas screamed as he was thrown, face-first, into a dirt puddle. Theseus pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation and gave Lucid an accusatory look. The masked man shrugged his shoulders, I was provoked.

Tommy cackled behind him, “You really hate each other, don’t you?”

Thomas’ wiped his face with the sleeve of his sweater and glared at Lucid, “What do you mean? We are a lovely family, and we really care about each other. Right, cousin? ”

He stood up and attempted to half-hug Lucid in confirmation of his words.

Yeah, no.

Thomas was drop-kicked into the dirt again.

Try that again and I will swap your wings and legs’ places with each other. Let’s see how you are going to fly then.

Theseus signed, “We really need a break. Or a vacation. Or both.”

“How didn’t you guys kill each other already?” Tommy asked. “Is that a side effect of having to tolerate each other for years?”

Yeah, except make that three days. Lucid was more likely to eat his own trident than to spend a whole year with Thomas or Theseus and, judging by their faces, they had very similar thoughts right now.

“Well, we didn’t really come together until recently,” Theseus confessed. “Went separate roads, carrier paths...”

Dimensions, timelines, realities...

Lucid put his trident down and pushed the end into the ground, laying against the weight lightly.

“You know, I probably had to ask that from the beginning, but if you are my brothers, how come you only remember about me now?” Tommy asked. “Where have you been for the last decade?”

Lucid almost fell over together with his trident. Theseus and Thomas exchanged a glance, shoot, we didn’t think of the backstory!

Tommy’s words didn’t sound as much as an accusation as it was pure curiosity. Oh, well, it was enough to send the three of them into a group panic session.

“Uh, you know, I think we are going to call it a day for now.” Theseus rumbled. “Let’s settle for the night here...”

Middle of the forest. Not even a clearing. Water nowhere in sight. That thing on the ground smelled suspiciously like bear poop. Literally the worst place to make a camp at, but Tommy didn’t need to know that.

“Wait,” the boy frowned, “You didn’t answer my question.”

Silence and a series of glances.

Theseus was panicking, biting his lips and claws picking up on the clasp of his cloak.

Thomas was panicking, his wings flared up, almost getting stuck in the closest tree brunch, and his gaze jumping between the faces of his ‘brothers’.

What about Lucid? Well, Lucid panicked professionally – while nobody could see his face.

“We need to have a private word with each other,” Theseus hurriedly interrupted the silence and reached forward; before Lucid could protest, he was grabbed by his elbow and dragged into a small circle of three people.

“Tommy, mind taking a dozen steps back?” Thomas asked.

The boy raised a brow, confused, but obeyed, “Okay.”

“A couple more.”

He moved.

“And just a little further...”

Tommy bumped into a tree with his back about fifty feet away from where the trio stood before Thomas finally raised a thump up, “Perfect!”

We are so sus right now.

“This is very important,” Thomas snapped at them, “If we don’t make up a coherent story, he might start doubting us.”

Aye, at this point he certainly has absolute trust in three strangers who he met several hours ago. We have so-o-o-o much to lose right now.

Theseus cleared his throat, “Okay. Facts are facts – I am a very bad liar. Like, really, really bad liar.”

“We are almost the same person,” Thomas whispered panickily, “I am not any better than you!”

They both simultaneously turned their heads towards Lucid. He rolled his eyes – though that couldn’t be visible under the mask - and tapped on his throat with his finger, I literally can’t talk.

“Any suggestions, maybe?” Theseus said with a silent hope in his eyes.

Good thing about unconscious people, they don’t ask questions.

Lucid reached for his trident, but both Theseus and Thomas stopped him with warning hisses, “No, we are not doing any of that!”

Lucid crossed arms on his chest, Great. Have fun getting out of this by yourself then.

Thomas’s wings flared up as he signed and bit his lips, “Okay, new plan. We don’t need to lie completely, do we? If we just leave out the extreme details and reinterpret some things, we should be fine.”

Lucid did not have a good feeling about this, but he nodded – what other choice had there been?

Theseus stared Thomas in the eyes, “Don’t mention any real names and places. Try not to raise his curiosity too much.”

“Yeah, I am not stupid,” Thomas huffed.

Lucid gave him a look that very certainly exposed his opinion on that statement. Physically, it shouldn’t be visible for him, but Thomas somehow had a strong sixth feeling for when he was humiliated or mocked by someone, a skill, perhaps, that worked right now as well.

“I am not.” He snapped.

Okay, you caught me this time.

“Are you done yet?” Tommy brought his hands to his mouth and shouted.

They exchanged a last round of glances, and Theseus signed, “There goes everything.”

They took a few steps away from each other, and Thomas waved his hand, calling Tommy to come over. By the time the boy reached their group, Lucid already retreated to stand against a thick oak, arms and legs crossed on each other. Two hybrids sat on a fallen tree, hands on their laps, and gestured Tommy to settle on the opposite to them.

Theseus coughed a bit before starting his story, “So, Tommy, you see, before we came over here, we lived in a different place. It was a quite small community, ruled by a person whose name was Dr-”

Lucid tensed. Did they really think it was a good idea to-

“-Drista.” Thomas stuck in.

Theseus shot the avian a wild glare. I mean, not the best idea, but it could be worse.

“Yes, Drista.” Thomas confidently repeated. “Has a strong liking of giving out illegal items by contraband and committing mass genocide.”

“She sounds cool,” Tommy leaned forward, listening attentively to each word leaving the avian’s mouth.

“Yeah, because she is.” Thomas confirmed.”So, we lived in her land, you know, peacefully. We had a very close, dare I say, best friend, Tubbeena.”

Lucid almost choked on his own saliva. A playful, sly spark lit in Thomas’ eye, and that didn’t mean any good. Lucid stared straight in his face, hoping to attract his attention before things got out of hand, but the avian stubbornly avoided his gaze.

“Tubbeena is very tall, buff, and has a strong love for crocodiles. He had a lot of pet crocodiles, I tried giving a high five to one of them, but it died, accidentally.”

“How do you give a high five to a crocodile?” Tommy cackled.

“With your right hand.”

“And then?”

“With your left hand.”

Tommy wheezed, “But you have both your hands, don’t you?”

“I said it died, didn’t it?”

“Okay, continue.”

“So, me and Tubbeena actually got into a conflict with Drista. You see, I may or may not have tried to kill some people, maybe escaped a court room and committed some other minor... pranks.”

“Did she try to execute you?” Tommy asked.

Lucid was actively trying to bring Theseus to intervene. When the raccoon hybrid finally noticed him actively swinging his arms in the air, he nodded slightly and turned to Thomas with a serious, tensed face. Finally , Lucid exhaled in relief.

“No, no, no, but we had several battles over music-”

“Musical moves.” Theseus deadpanned.

WHaT?

Tommy tilted his head to the side, “Uh, you mean, dancing?”

“Yes,” Theseus confirmed with a straight face. “We had a row of intense dance battles against Drista and her friends Gogy and Snapchat.”

He felt like he was punched in the face and honestly, it would be better if they did. Theseus and Thomas winked at each other, their gazes simultaneously locking on Lucid’s suffering figure.

Oh no.

“Lucid was the best of us, actually.” Theseus grinned.

Tommy turned around to face Lucid, curiously raising a brow, “Really?”

“Yes. He is an excellent ballet dancer.”

Lucid contemplated getting to the closest cliff he can find and throwing Theseus from it. Tommy burst into laughter, and he decided to jump from the cliff right after him because this is terrible.

The boy ran out of air at some point, tears of laugher beaming in the corners of his eyes, “Who had won in the end?”

“Well, we kind of got distracted from that battles, because our other friend, Pastabur , joined us, and decided to, um, start a business.” Thomas continued. ” He actually looks a lot like your brother Wilbur, so I had mistaken him for Pastabur earlier.”

Theus took it from there, “Drista didn’t like Pastabur that much, so she announced a war against us. The war for Independe-”

“-ent Production of Toilet Paper.” Thomas finished.

“We fought against the monopoly and unfairly high prices for toilet paper, and we had won, at some point.” Theseus said solemnly. “But then, a tyrant took over our production, and he decided to make one ply toilet paper instead of two ply one!”

Tommy gasped, “What a monster!”

Theseus and Thomas actively nodded in response. They had an audacity to shoot glances at Lucid. At this point all three of them had their faces in intense colors of red: from barely contained laughter and second hand embarrassment respectively.

“So, naturally, we lead an uprising, right?” Theseus continued casually. “There was a lot of drama, intrigue and divorce frauds, but in the end, we had overthrown the tyrant, who later had decided to open an underground gym. Oh, Pastabur left the business, too.”

“Why’s that?” Tommy asked.

“He asked his father to make him a barbeque.”

Lucid didn’t know whether he wanted to cry or laugh hysterically. He settled on lightly bumping his head into a tree, please just let me die already.

“And then, the three of us decided to move into an isolated island.”

“Wait, why?”

“Because of social distancing. You know what social distancing is, Tommy?”

“I don’t think so,” the boy said, scratching the back of his head.

“It’s a type of sport.” Thomas continued. “A team sport, actually. We had three of us, and our good friend MD and his wife in our team, for example. We had a lot of fun together, someone got decapitated, but eventually, me and Theseus decided to join an anti-toilet paper cult.”

Theseus snorted, “Cult is too extreme. I would say it was more of-”

“-Cult. It was a cult.” Thomas cut out. Theseus grumped, but didn’t complain much further.

“I didn’t stay there for a long period of time, actually, because me and Tubbeena had to fight in a last dance battle with Drista. It ended nice. We won and bought her a very big house.”

“And I joined a secret book club.” Theseus added. “It was great. But then Thomas was, travelling nearby I think, and heard about someone that looks like our long-lost younger brother. So, we decided to group up again to find you and travel together.”

Tommy nodded without giving it much thought, “What about Lucid, then? What did he do in that ti- Oh, what happened to him?”

Lucid had been sitting with his mask covered with both his hands and knees. Upon hearing his name, he lifted his head to give Theseus and Thomas a long, suffering look.

“I dunno,” Thomas elbowed his twin. “I bet he has diarrhea.”

Chapter Text

Tommy’s knowledge on the world was quite vague, limited to a scatter of small towns and villages around his and WIlbur’s house and Phil’s tales about his journeys. He had never heard of people starting wars over production of toilet paper or dodging crimes with dance battles before, but that didn’t mean it was completely impossible, did it? Tommy will have to see that for himself; after all, exploration was the main reason he left his home in the first place.

One more thing Thomas had convinced Tommy to take from the house with him was a camp cot. He didn’t even remember they had one in the basement until the avian suggested to go and look for it together. Thinking of it now, Tommy didn’t regret in the slightest. He had stubbornly attempted to lay down on the bare ground, curled up inside the blanket, and his back went sore within the first ten minutes after what he finally gave up and allowed Thomas to help him to set the cot.

“Thomas,” Tommy called, “Can you teach me social distancing?”

The avian paused upon the question and then nodded confidently, “Of course. It is very simple. In fact, Lucid is doing it right now.”

Tommy looked around and found the masked man sitting under a birch tree, one hand with a knife (How many weapons does this guy have?), and the other holding a semi-flat piece of wood he methodically carved something out of, movements smooth and practiced. Lucid shouldn’t have been able to hear them from that afar, but it took him less than a second to notice Tommy’s stare; he hid his work behind his back, like it was something embarrassing, and decided to stare into the fire instead.

Tommy turned back to the avian, “So social distancing is..?”

“Keeping away from other people for the safety of everyone involved,” Thomas huffed, “In this case, Lucid is keeping himself from stabbing me and Theseus with that knife.”

Tommy still didn’t understand what this sport was about, nor how could that be hard enough to be considered one, but decided to leave the questions for another time. His limbs felt heavy from all the walking and it became increasingly difficult to keep his eyes open. Tommy dropped himself on the cot, and Thomas tossed him the blanket, “We are leaving early in the morning, so try to get some sleep while you can.”

The avian was about to step away when Tommy called him again, “Wait, what about you?”

Thomas gave him a questioning look, “You mean..?”

“Where you three are going to sleep? We don’t have another cot.”

“Ah.” Thomas scratched the back of his head, “On the ground. Don’t worry, though, we are accustomed to field conditions.”

Tommy really doubted one could get accustomed to tree roots digging in their back and their body going numb from the cold, “Take it,” he said, holding out the blanket, “You need it more than I do.”

“I don’t, actually,” Thomas spread one of his wings and wrapped it around himself, feathers shuffling against his clothes, “See? Perks of being an avian.”

Tommy unwillingly remembered the feeling of Phil’s wings brushing against his skin, soft and shielding. It raised a weak ache in his chest that was gone before he could understand what it had been caused by.

“What about Theseus and Lucid?” Tommy asked.

“Theseus’ too prideful to take it anyway. And Lucid... I think you will just startle him into running off into the forest. Keep it to yourself, really, we are going to be fine.”

Tommy unfolded the blanket and rolled himself into it, rather hesitantly – it still felt wrong to take it while the others obviously had less comfortable conditions than he did– but soon enough, the drowsiness blurred his thoughts and he fell into a long, dreamless sleep.

The first thing Tommy understood upon waking up – he felt like absolute trash.

Not the ‘my head hurts, guess I’ll die’ kind of trash, but the one when your entire body screams and throbs from even the slightest movements, though the ‘guess I’ll die’ part still applied. Tommy stared straight up into the forest ceiling of woven branches and emerald leaves and contemplated going back to sleep, but his stomach growled loudly, teased by the strong smell of something being cooked nearby.

Sleep or food, food or sleep. Tommy never had to make a choice so hard in his entire life. His brain worked so intensively he could literally feel his own IQ rising with each second. By the end of the minute, Tommy turned into the smartest person in the entire world and ooooooh – what if he eats first, and then goes back to sleep?

Tommy rolled over to his side, towards the source of the amazing smell. It came from the bonfire; the flames lazily munched on the dry firewood, filling the air with quiet cracks and screeches, breathing with soft heat. Thomas sat mere feet away from it, putting away a pan with fried eggs just as Tommy yawned loudly, “Is that the breakfast?”

“Aye,” the avian nodded, raising his head, “Come along, both of you.”

Tommy belatedly noticed Lucid sitting on a low tree branch a dozen feet away from the bonfire, blending in with the surroundings. The white mask eyed him for a moment, intent and studying, in its default ‘I am cryptic and edgy’ style, before finally giving him a slight greeting nod. Other two states of Lucid Tommy spotted this far were the ‘Murder time’, mostly directed at Thomas, and ‘End my sufferings’ which was very graphically demonstrated last evening. Tommy made a new habit: each time the sad face started to unnerve him, he would imagine Lucid performing the ‘Dance of the little swans’ in a bright pink ballet skirt. This far, it worked like a charm.

Tommy’s back and neck cracked loudly as he brought himself into an upright position. Pain thrusted in his muscles and faded into a dull throb, "I think I broke my spine.”

Lucid huffed, disbelieving.

“Okay, maybe not spine,” Tommy grumped.” But I definitely broke something. Did one of you throw me down a ravine while I was asleep?”

The corners of Thomas’ lips tilted upwards. He managed to hold his laughter for a couple of seconds before doubling over in a series of loud wheezes.

Tommy raised his eyebrows, “What?”

“Ask-” Thomas had to take a deep breath to calm down, “Ask Lucid.”

Lucid froze for a moment, jumped down from the three and walked over to them. He pulled out a small notebook and a feather out of the pocket of his hoodie, scribbled something inside and offered it for Tommy to read, “’Not you?’ What do you mean, not me?”

Wait- Oh. Oh.

Tommy looked around, “Where is Theseus?”

Lucid tilted his head to the side.

Tommy’s face stretched, “No way.”

One hour earlier

“Lucid no.”

Lucid yes.

The precious Axe of Peace was carelessly thrown over a small cliff. Theseus jerked forward just to see the weapon falling and disappearing in a thundering river, “NOOOOOO- “

He received a kick in the butt than sent him flying right after.

“I’m starting a petition to call Lucid Lycomedes now.” Thomas announced.

Tommy never was a huge Greek mythology nerd – that was Techno’s prerogative, so he asked, “Who’s Lycomedes?”

“The guy who threw Theseus from a cliff.” Thomas explained as he separated the fried eggs into portions. He tossed them into two wooden plates and offered one of them to Tommy. The boy accepted it with a grin that faded when his gaze fell on the now empty pan, “Wait, isn’t it the one from my house?”

“Yes, but I am not supposed to tell you that.”

“Who stole it?” Tommy frowned. “Was it Theseus?”

Thomas shrugged shoulders, "Well, I have warned you. Should have kept The Broom on you.”

Tommy still had it, though, and he probably will have to put it to use now, “Did he steal anything else?”

Lucid and Thomas exchanged a glance, and the latter said, “...No.”

Both were actively nodding yes.

“You know, I want to become Lycomedes too, I decided,” Tommy solemnly announced as he stuffed the breakfast in his mouth with his fingers – a fork wasn’t an option anymore, well, because they didn’t have any forks to begin with – and a rich, slightly smoky taste rolled on his tongue, “Can I yeet Theseus off a cliff?”

Thomas shook his head.

“Why?”

“Because that’s murder.” Thomas said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“But Theseus is fine...” Tommy’s eyes widened, “or is he?”

“I'm not fine. My pride is in shambles.” Theseus stepped out of the forest, wearing a simple white and blue shirt: the red cape was thrown over his shoulder, being the only part of his wardrobe that stayed completely dry. Raccoon tail, extremely fluffed up, swung from side to side as he shot hostile glances towards Lucid. The handle of his weapon poke behind his shoulder.

“Did the axe fishing go well?” Thomas asked with a sly smile.

Theseus spat angrily and pointed a finger at the avian, “Shut up, Chickeninnit,” then he proceeded to poke in Lucid’s direction, “You shut up, too.”

Tommy had an impression Lucid had been raising a brow right now.

“Stop invading my mental space. I can feel you mocking me behind the ugly mask of yours, and I don’t like it. And don’t stare at me like that either, you cheap Walmart owl.”

Lucid didn’t seem to be pleased with Theseus’ commentary, but he didn’t try to murder him this time. Either he didn’t want to deal with his cousin this early in the morning, or he had made an oath not to kill people on Mondays. Either way, Lucid took his portion of fried eggs and hurried to disappear behind a bush, probably to eat in peace.

Theseus bent and picked up the flint and steel laying on the ground and shoved them into the nearest bag. Technically, all the things they had, besides Theseus’ axe and Lucid’s weapons, were of Tommy’s own possession, but he didn’t mind others carrying them around while he himself can travel lightly, with only his money and his dagger on him at all times.

“We’re taking off now,” Theseus stated. The lantern was thrown to the rest of the things with such a force Tommy suspected the glass was going to crack. “I want to get out of the forest today and thanks to somebody’s childish behavior, we had already wasted a good hour of daylight.”

There goes Tommy’s plans to get some quality sleep.

“Since when you’re the one giving out commands?” Thomas huffed, not making a single effort to obey. “I’m the oldest one here.”

A pause.

And then a longer pause.

And then a very long pause.

Tommy thought he was starting to develop a sixth sense for upcoming arguments in this group, because his eyes instantly shot up to the unreadable expression on Theseus’ face.

“What did you say?” he coldly asked, narrowing his eyes into thin lines.

Thomas stood up and walked forward until he almost bumped foreheads with Theseus, “I said, I am the oldest among all four of us.”

“We are literally twins.” Theseus deadpanned.

“Well, one of us had to be born first. And that was me.”

“Do you not know who’s older?” Tommy asked.

Theseus and Thomas snapped at him simultaneously and the temperature around them soared at once. It didn’t spook him as much as it made him feel awkward; he stepped back both as a precaution and as to get a good look on the upcoming scene.

“Of course, we know. I’m the older one.” Thomas snarled.

“Really? And what does the journal say on that matter?”

The journal? What are they talking about?

“We are not going to read it.” Thomas’ sudden shift in tone made shivers run down Tommy’s spine. This was a lot different that their usual arguments, he could tell that much, but Theseus didn’t seem to register the silent warning between the words or simply chose to ignore it.

“We are.” He stubbornly hissed.

“We are not.”

Thomas and Theseus were too busy spatting saliva at each other to notice the white mask raising behind them, comically slowly. Tommy, however, did, and it took all the patience in the world for him not to wheeze right there. At that moment, Theseus was already reaching for his axe, both ears falling flat, “Well, I have a different opinion.”

Thomas raised his voice, “So, now you are threatening me, you hypocritical Dumpster rat.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“Oh, don’t pretend you don’t know what I am talking about.” Thomas threw his hands in the air, “You go, mimimimimimimi, I am against governments, governments are oppressive, and then you go and threaten me with a weapon. You are not any different than Te-”

BAM.

Thomas received a trident smash to top of his head and fell on the ground with a banshee screech.

Theseus cackled out a laugh, but then the handle of the weapon slammed across his stomach and sent him doubling over with a choked scream.

It all happened in a blink of an eye, but the result was impressive: two men groaning and whining defeatedly on the ground and one angry Walmart owl towering over them. Lucid’s mask snapped up, and Tommy jumped with his hands raised, “Please don’t kill me you gave a solemn oath and its Monday today so-”

Tommy blinked and oh no he imagined Lucid in a ballet skirt again.

Now there were three people on the ground: two curling up from pain, one – from laughter and a very confused Lucid towering over them.

It took another half an hour before everyone in their little group was packed and ready to go. Thomas and Theseus still had been sending angry glances to each other, followed up by an occasional ‘I hate you’ or a colorful insult. Lucid was always sure to loom over with them with a trident and break up the fight before it even got started.

While Tommy probably won’t know who actually was the older twin, it was obvious that the masked man was the one with real power here. It was confirmed once more when Theseus had started burying the leftovers of the fire and Lucid came to him with his notebook opened. Tommy curiously watched the hybrid’s expression morph into one of confusion and slight irritation. Both older men glanced at him and then at each other; finally, Theseus nodded, readjusted the strap of a bag on his shoulder and gestured Tommy to come with him as he was the first one to leave their temporary camp.

“What about Thomas and Lucid?” Tommy asked, springing to his heels.

“We will be right behind you,” the avian smiled reassuringly, but there was something tensed and unnatural in that expression that Tommy couldn’t quite put the reason for.

“...Okay.”

As soon as Tommy and Theseus disappeared into the forest thicket, the smile fell from Thomas’ face. He signed and buried his face in his hands, “We messed up, didn’t we?”

Lucid stared at him, unmoving, like a mannequin.

“For the record, Theseus was the one to mention the journal first. If I let him see it right there, Tommy wouldn’t stop until he could get his hands on it, too. I know that; you know that, because we are literally him-”

“...”

“Okay, but then I did kind of almost mention Technoblade, and I am not supposed to know him in this timeline...”

“...”

The silence became too unnerving,“Have anyone told you your face is ugly?” A pause. “No, no, put that thing away, I was just checking that you didn’t fall asleep.”

Lucid breathed in sharply, sound distorted behind the mask. He took his notebook out, have you read the journal’?

“No.”

‘Don’t lie.’

“Okay, maybe I did. But that was accidental, and it was even before I met you two, so it's not my fault at all.”

‘Have you read my page?’

“No, only Theseus’. Do you want me to tell you...?”

‘No. It’s private.’

And this time without waiting for Thomas’ response, ‘Give me the book. I will carry it from now on and until we get an enderchest.’

“Stop-stop-stop, how do I know you are not going to read it either?”

Lucid tilted his head to the side as if saying, ‘Seriously?’

Thomas frowned, but reached for the pocket of his pants and pulled out a compact journal with plain leather cover, slightly bend on the sides and covered in small, barely visible scratches. It didn’t have any title or text on the outside, ironically unremarkable with contents as peculiar as its own.

Lucid swiftly flipped through the journal, fingers both gentle and rough, slowing down towards the end and stopping completely on a specific page. Thomas could only catch a quick glance of Lucid’s name written in big bold letters on top before the masked man tore it out and squeezed it in his fist. The paper ball was thrown into the smoldering coals of the fire – they both watched it blacken and decay and turn into a small pile of grey ashes.

Thomas followed Lucid’s example and found two other pages: one with Theseus’ name and the other - empty of any title whatsoever. He tore out both of them carefully, leaving the edges straight, easily throwing away his ‘twin’s’, but hesitating on his own. His gaze shifted between the journal and the coals before he finally said, “I think I am going to keep it for now.”

Lucid shrugged shoulders, ‘Suit yourself.’

The journal went back to him and away from the prying eyes.

Chapter Text

There had to have some sort of raccoon super abilities that helped Theseus jog through the forest without stumbling every other step like Tommy did, and the fact that he distinctly recognized this part of the woods wasn’t helping at all. Either Theseus was hurrying to meet his rodent family somewhere ahead, or it was an incredibly advanced technique of avoiding his questions that his brothers totally didn’t try to use on him before.

Apparently, most people couldn’t bother others if they are kept busy with physical activities, but Tommy wasn’t some kind of an amateur, he was a high-quality, professional annoyance. If he could keep talking whilst being actively drowned by Wilbur or sparring with (read: getting owned by) Techno, he could do the same and try not to faceplant on ground.

“What was that journal you had mentioned earlier?” he asked, jumping over a particularly high tree root. By the time they get out of the forest, he will probably be the best hopscotch player in the world.

“What journal?” Theseus sheepishly asked.

Oh, now they were going through the five stages of grief. Tommy had a huge experience in these, mostly because he often was the one to cause people to go through them.

“You’re in denial,” Tommy stated.

“In denial of what?”

“You’re in denial and I'm going to help you.”

Theseus gave him a look that very clearly said, ‘please don’t.’

“From now on, I’m going to be your therapist.”

“I don’t need a therapist,” Theseus frowned.

This definitely was denial, “Until you accept the existence of the journal, you do.”

Theseus glanced at him, irritated, but didn’t say anything else. He didn’t get the hint or what?

“I am very insistent, you know,” Tommy added.

A long look again. And then silence. A long silence. It felt like Theseus somehow skipped through anger and bargaining stages and went straight into depression.

“I am going to answer your question, but you won’t ask anything about it anymore.” His ears twitched, like he wasn’t sure of what he was doing, “And you also don’t tell anything to others, or I am going to get decapitated. Or worse. Do we have a deal?”

“Deal. What’s in the journal?”

“A family biography, of sorts.”

Now that was interesting. Did the three of them decided to document their attempts to kill each other and called that a biography? On the other hand...

“Do you have any other family members you haven’t told me about yet?”

Theseus gave him a look.

“What?” Tommy exclaimed. “I’m not asking about the journal.”

Theseus signed, and he took that as a que to continue, “Do you have another brother?”

“No.”

“A sister?”

“No.”

“More weird cousins?”

Theseus made a strange face, like he was having Vietnam flashbacks. So that’s a yes then. If all his cousins were like Lucid, the reaction was quite understandable.

“What about a crazy rich uncle whose money I am going to inherit once he dies, preferably soon?”

“No!”

“Ah, lame.”

Tommy wouldn’t mind associating with this family if it came with heritage perks. For now, though, it seemed like he was stuck with a bunch of homeless murderers.

“What about parents then? Was your mother a raccoon?” he suddenly asked.

Theseus sounded like he choked on something, “What? No!”

“Then your father is a raccoon.”

“No, he is not.”

“How do you have ears and tail then?”

Theseus halted in his steps and pinched the bridge of his nose, “My twin has wings, do you think we were born from a raccoon and a chicken?”

It was kind of weird to imagine, but if you really try... No-no-no , Tommy’s thoughts went in a very wrong direction.

“You tell me, I haven’t even met your parents!” he exclaimed.

“I don’t remember my parents. We were abandoned at a young age, okay?”

“Well, how do you know they were not a raccoon and a chicken?

“We are literally brothers. With the same parents.”

“I still don’t believe that bit. For all I know you could have done plastic surgery. I am not mad, though, I know it’s terrible not to be me.”

Theseus signed and continued walking.

“Theseus, why are you Theseus?”

“That is a peculiar question. I don’t know. Why are you Tommy, Tommy?”

Tommy opened his mouth to give an answer and found out he didn’t have one.

Really, why was he Tommy?

Only because that was the name he was assigned by birth?

But was it only a name?

What if there was much more behind this collection of letters, a fate, perhaps, a destiny?

In the billions and billions of people in the billions of realities, he had to be that one specific Tommy, in this specific place, in this specific time, with this specific people, struggling to find an answer to this specific question, wearing these specific socks – what was that if not a destiny?

And if all above was true, who Tommy truly was? Was he only a puppet playing a role given to him, the role of Tommy, or was he himself responsible for the fact that he was in this specific place, in this specific time, with this specific people, struggling to find an answer to this specific question –

“Tommy?”

He blinked and two identical faces stared at him in concern. He turned to the one that was ugly, “Thomas, Theseus gave me an existential crisis.”

“That’s because his entire existence is a crisis.”

Do you smell that? That’s right, a new screaming contest was about to start. Lucid flashed somewhere in the corner of his vision, but it didn’t look like was going to interfere this time. Tommy needed to do something about the conflict himself, and fast, so he stood between two men and yelled, “Stop!”

They both paused, mostly confused and slightly guilty. Before neither could apologize, though, Tommy suddenly reached for his bag and pulled out an apple, “Okay, I have a snack, now you can continue.”

His preparations were not appreciated.

Apparently Lucid wasn’t the only one who could look intimidating, and the threatening silence lasted for solid hours.

Well, no, it was three seconds, but Tommy was not good at keeping time, no need to be so judgmental, okay?

His common sense told him to keep his mouth shut, and also you never listen to me, how are you not dead yet?, but his Tommy sense knew it was the perfect time to do something he had meant to do from the very start.

“I have a very important question for you both,” he started slowly. “Who is-”

“My favorite woman?” Thomas interrupted him.

Tommy visibly deflated. That was a strange coincidence, but he had a backup plan, “Very close, but what I wanted to ask, what is the-”

“The worst word I know?” Theseus snorted.

Well, that was just unfair.

“I hate you both,” he deadpanned.

His company was not appreciated. He was getting bullied; he was getting patronized. Where was the principle, where was the manager? He needed to speak to the manager.

“Lucid, are you a manager?”

He probably regretted he didn’t run away as soon as saw Tommy approaching, but he shook his head, ‘No’.

“I think you could be a manager.”

Next hour was spent in painful silence from Lucid and painful not-silence from Tommy as he explained, in every possible detail, how being a manager would be beneficial for his financial and personal development. The majority of people would probably already apply for the job at this point, but the masked man was tough. Or dead inside. Or both.

Even though Lucid had yeeted him off a cliff this morning, Theseus couldn’t help but sympathize with him. He didn’t realize how talkative they used to be until they actually met their younger version. Tommy didn’t tolerate silence and was allergic to loneliness; with his level of energy, he was surprised how the boy didn't propel into the stratosphere yet. When Theseus noticed Lucid gradually slowing down his pace to get behind Tommy, he didn’t point that; nor he told anyone when the masked man eventually slipped into the forest.

“How long have I been talking to thin air?” Tommy grumped when he finally noticed Lucid’s absence.

“Twenty minutes,” Theseus honestly answered.

Tommy’s face reddened, deeply offended, “I feel like I am not being appreciated enou-”

He abruptly stopped talking, however, when he noticed the blue cloth of sky ahead of them. Finally, Theseus found himself snorting. Trees didn’t grow as close to each other as before, and the further they got, the more obvious it became that the woods were finally coming to an end.

Green. Saturated, lively shade of grass covering the miles and miles of semi-flat lands in front of them. The sun lazily sprawled above it all, generous to warmth and bright light. Theseus heard the river before he saw it, hidden by a small hill covered in colorful stains of flowers, and the air was full of new smells his hybrid side got quickly overwhelmed by.

Theseus didn’t like open spaces (or more like he didn’t like plains specifically, but he was not going to admit it), but even then, he could acknowledge the beauty of the scenery that spread out before them. He was first to pass under the tree line separating the forest and the plains, Thomas went second, but Theseus didn’t hear the third pair of steps; he turned around just to see Tommy halting and almost tripping over a rock, eyes wide and the rest of his face frozen in unreadable expression.

“This is it,” he said.

“This is what?” Theseus asked.

“If I take one more step, it will be the furthest away from home I’ve ever been.”

It was hard to tell what exactly he was thinking about right now. Theseus was most afraid that he might started questioning his decision on joining their group. An exchange of glances between him and Thomas had revealed that the avian was thinking of the same thing.

Thomas paused, “Does that... Worry you?”

Theseus was good at stealing stuff; he was amazing at communicating with girls; he was fairly good at sword fighting, but comforting people? That was a big no. Or more like: ‘PANIC we are in an emotionally invested situation AAAAAAA what do I do emotions are not real’.

His brain was about to go on an emergency shutdown, but then his earbuds exploded when Tommy yelled, “THIS IS AMAZING!”

The hybrid was cooled down by the blast of air as the boy sprinted past him and into the plains, shouting on top of his lungs. He looked and acted like a puppy that was let out of the house for the first time in its life, full of excitement and childish joy, a wiggling tail being the only missing detail. If Theseus had to fight the urge to smile at that moment, nobody would ever know that.

Tommy’s voice abruptly turned into a horrified scream - he stumbled over something and went flying down the hill with the speed of light. Well, that was kind of expected. Thomas jerked forward, clearly startled, but Theseus? Theseus casually put hands in his pockets and approached in slow, almost lazy steps. By the time he reached the boy’s sprawled figure, Thomas was already examining his face – apparently Tommy’s nose started bleeding.

“Not broken,” the avian stated, “You didn’t hit your head, did you? Not feeling dizzy or anything?”

For a person with a bloodied face, Tommy looked almost too happy, “Nah, I am fine.”

“Two seconds. Two seconds and you already got injured.” Theseus deadpanned. “Try not to stain your shirt with blood, it is a pain to wash off.”

Now that they made sure Tommy was not dead nor on the verge of death, they could do more important things, such as continue their journey. Theseus took out the map he permanently borrowed from some merchant in the town. They almost reached the north borders of it, the river pointed out as the last landmark in that direction, so they soon will have to find a village or a wandering trader to buy – or borrow – a new map from.

“Alright, we’re taking a short break here, until Lucid catches up with us.” He announced. “Maybe you should go look for him, Thomas.”

The avian frowned, “And how are you imagining that?”

“Scream insults about him. When something tries to kill you, you found Lucid.”

“That is...” Thomas paused, falling in deep thought, “an actually working tactic.”

They both jumped when Tommy screamed again, “HORSES!”

F to Theseus’ eardrums. In their group, they had a mute mercenary, a half-blind idiot, now they only need him to go deaf for a poetic – or anectodical - set.

He turned around to the direction Tommy was pointing at and saw several dark figures scattered around the green scenery. The animals munched on grass, several of them raising their heads upon the boy’s scream.

“Horses, yeah.” Theseus shrugged.

“ Ponies!”

“These are horses, you just said that yourself.”

“Ponies.”

Theseus didn’t like where they were going here, “Okay, ponies.”

Tommy jumped off the spot and to the horses, eyes shining in fascination. Theseus watched him go, not sure what to make of the new wave of excitement from the boy. He was lightly pushed by his shoulder, “What are you waiting for?”

“What do you mean?” Theseus turned slightly.

“Take the kid on a walk. Make sure he doesn’t get stomped on.” Thomas pushed him again, “I’m going to get Lucid.”

Theseus signed, but he kind of was the one to first propose the avian that ask and dug himself a hole here, so he jogged after Tommy, aka ‘the boy with no instinct of self-reservation', who was already approaching one of the horses, a Pinto female with funny white marking around both her eyes.

“You can get kicked, you know,” he said, stopping him by wrapping a hand around his arm. “Or bitten, depending on how lucky you are feeling today.”

Tommy twisted out of his grip and announced stubbornly, “I want a pony and I want one now.”

He kind of wished the horse would bite Tommy and make him change his mind, but it actually approached the boy, snorting, and nuzzled into his shoulder. The universe was against him today.

Here it was, what Theseus’ intuition had warned him about. Years of training and wars had prepared him to this exact moment, so he stood between Tommy and the horse, gave him the firmest look he could and said, “No.”

“Why?”

“Because it is a horse-”

“Pony!”

“Doesn’t change the fact that it is an animal that needs care.” Theseus cut out. “A lot of care, time, food, everything that we currently don’t have.”

“I will take care of it myself!” Tommy yelled.

Literally the weakest argument he could have provided, “No, you won’t, you don’t even know how to look after a horse.”

Tommy angrily glanced between him and the animal and suddenly his face morphed into a new expression and -

He was making puppy eyes. Really?

“Please, can we get a pony?”

This was just embarrassing. Humiliating.

Theseus was not biting that.

Tommy continued to stare. Theseus gulped loudly.

Okay maybe he actually was. Or more like heavily so.

Theseus wanted to say yes right here and there for absolutely no reason but because Tommy was making puppy eyes at him. Where were those skills when he got on the SMP?!

“No. “He forced himself to say. “Stop being a toddler.”

In response, Tommy dropped himself on the ground and crossed his arms, “I’m not going anywhere until we get a pony.”

Great. Now he was dealing with a temper tantrum.

“Tommy, stand up or I will leave you here.”

“You won’t.”

But he really wanted to.

“Then I will drag you by your leg.”

“I’m going to kick you.”

Theseus asked Lucid yesterday, why does he like to knock out people so much. The answer was, ‘to avoid social interaction.’ Theseus didn’t get it then but he surely does now, especially considering the fact that his social interactions were limited to annoying young Tommy, annoying older Tommy and also an edgy Tommy who couldn’t balance out the concentration of annoyance per square meter. Tommy – Theseus - signed and pinched the bridge of his nose, screams ringing in his ears – screams of his poor dying nerves. And braincells. He was actively losing braincells. Theseus brought his braid to his face to check if his hair started to turn grey yet because it sure felt like he aged ten years solely from this conversation.

Something pushed him from behind. When Theseus turned around, he found the same pinto horse nuzzling into his back. It wasn’t a wild horse, he noted. It didn’t act nor look like one, more likely just a runaway - which meant there must be a village somewhere around here. Finally, some good news.

He massaged his temples, “Tell me one good reason why should we keep it?”

“I’ll give you three: you’re ugly and I hate you,” he pointed finger at him, then stood up and proceeded to wrap his hands around the horse’s head, “This horse is ugly and I love it. And I also already gave it a name.”

It was a trap. A sabotage. Tommy turned the eldritch powers on him. If you name something, you get attached to it, everybody knew that rule.

“What did you name it?”

When Thomas and Lucid finally arrived to the scene, Tommy presented his new pony with the wildest of smiles. There were a few white and red flowers braided into the long mane and the boy kept scratching and petting it lovingly.

The avian frowned at Theseus with a clear accusation, “You allowed him to adopt a horse?”

Theseus looked defeated; ears fallen to the sides of his head. He muttered something indistinguishable.

“What?” Thomas asked, “I can’t hear you.”

Theseus whispered louder, “He named her Henry.”

Silence.

“We keep it.”

“Yeah.”

They watched Tommy run around, Henry snorting and chasing him. Theseus felt something tagging at his cape, like a cat or a small child. He didn’t expect it to be Lucid offering him an open notebook with a single line, ‘I want a pony too.’

Chapter Text

“What is the definition of a pony?” Thomas asked calmly.

As expected, Lucid didn’t give him an answer. Didn’t even bother to take out the stupid notebook of his – though that may have been related to the rain rather than his ignorance - and shrugged his shoulders instead, just slightly, like a careless kid.

“Henry, with a stretch, is a pony. A short, fat, maybe a bit jerky but mostly peaceful horse. Like cute and stuff.” Thomas huffed, trying hard not to slip into growl, “Do you know what a pony is NOT?”

Lucid shrugged again.

“A freakishly tall undead skeleton horse.“

Believe it or not, Thomas had been continuing this argument with Lucid for about ten minutes already, ever since they accidentally spotted the said horse wandering through the plains not too far away from their camping spot.

It couldn’t be called a proper camp, though, not while it was raining cats and dogs and they couldn’t even light a fire yet alone settle here for the night. It was a bolt from the blue, literally; a thunderstorm decided to give them a birthday surprise except it wasn’t anybody’s birthday and it sucked.

The best hiding spot they could find was a small stone canopy at the bottom of the hill. Thomas and Theseus tried to fit under it, got headbutted by Henry into submission and had to leave it in favor of the horse and widely grinning Tommy.

As if getting cold and soaking wet under the rain wasn’t enough, Lucid just had to active the ‘spoiled child at the store’ mode and insist on getting a new pet.

Thomas couldn’t argue against a normal pony for too long. The only thing Lucid needed to do was to cling onto a random horse, call it Henry Two or something and he wouldn’t say a word.

But nooo, he had stared into these empty eye sockets, a literal walking pile of bones, and thought, oh yes, a pony, my childhood dream.

“That’s a skeleton trap horse.” Thomas was getting openly frustrated, “It’s not called a trap because someone thought it would be funny. The moment we get close to that horse, the lightning will strike it and-”

“It’s going to spawn three more horses, “Theseus stepped into the conversation, “And we get four brand new skeleton horses to ride, which would make our journey much faster and easier.”

“And four brand new arrows to our faces,” Thomas deadpanned. “The horses come with skeletons, you forgot?”

“We can take on four skeletons together.”

Lucid nodded confidently in confirmation, and Thomas apparently was the only one with a sober head here, “No, we cannot. Tommy’s not a fighter, I have no weapon and two of you, I don’t think you are even that good at fighting-”

Lucid lunged forward to tackle him, but Thomas was too fast and he received a light smack of feathers across his mask. The avian grinned, “Nah, not going to work this time.”

He barely managed to finish the sentence before a hit from his blind side sent him sprawling on the ground. The muddied dirt instantly sticked to his clothes and wings, and the unhealed bruises on his back throbbed, making Thomas wince both in pain and disgust. Above him Theses grinned triumphantly. Congratulations, you took advantage of someone’s disability.

“I’ve changed my mind – go get you session of aquapuncture.” He spat, not caring enough to pull up himself, “Or, I have an even better idea: die. Preferably in a funny way.”

Theseus rolled his eyes and went towards the skeleton horse. Lucid paused and gave Thomas a long look that he couldn’t quite identify the tone of. That was the strange part, since he had quite a skill of catching hints of other’s emotions, even with their faces covered – or, better say, especially with their faces covered – and spent enough time with Lucid to apply that skill to him already. He was considerably easier to read, actually. Lucid moved in small ways, but he moved a lot – whether it be a shrug of a shoulder or tilt of his head or a quick gesture – probably as to compensate his muteness. This time Lucid was unusually still; Theseus called him from ten steps ahead and Lucid moved suddenly, like a startled cat, and was quick to follow the hybrid.

Thomas was left alone on the ground. Sad, lonely and covered in dirt.

That was until a certain horse cheekily decided to nuzzle its head in the avian’s face.

Now he was sad, lonely and covered in dirt and horse saliva. “Amazing,” Thomas muttered, reaching out to scrub at Henry’s head. “But I appreciate the attempt.”

Tommy loomed over his vision next to the horse, offering him a hand to stand up. Thomas took it just as there was a bright flash of white in the corner of his vision. Almost instantly, a defeaning thunder exploded in their ears. Henry bolted in the opposite direction, but Thomas was able to grab the rope hanging from her neck – a temporary replacement for reins – and prevent the horse from running off into the plains. He soothed Henry until she stopped pawing the ground and flaring her nostrils.

Turned out, she wasn’t the only one startled by the lightning. Tommy had the widest eyes he had ever seen a human being have – simply put, stretched to half his face. The avian gave him an amused look, and the boy shook his head, trying to regain his senses, “I never had seen a lightning strike so close.”

Thomas probably should have warned Tommy beforehand. "You are about to lose a brother,” he announced.

“What, are you dying?” Tommy asked curiously.

Thomas curved a brow, “Why did you automatically assume it was me?”

“You look like the type of person that would die.”

Should Thomas tell him that the description applies to literally every person in the universe?

“Not me,” he huffed instead. “Theseus and Lucid are pulling off something risky.”

Before any questions could be asked, Thomas gestured Tommy to follow him. They went up the hill, just enough to be able to get a good look on the small battle that unleashed in the middle of plains.

Lucid’s flashing figure was the first thing to catch his eyes because of the contrastingly bright red clothes. He threw a trident in a swift motion; the weapon crashed between vertebra of the skeleton and threw it off the horse and pinned it to the ground. Even then, the undead aimed its bow at Lucid. The arrow was easily dodged. Lucid wasted no time; the human skull was crashed under the pressure of his boot, bone shreds flying across the field. Overall, he seemed to be doing just fine. The second guy, though...

Is that a hedgehog?

Is that a porcupine?

No, it’s our ‘favorite’ Trash Panda!

Okay, maybe he was exaggerating, there were only three arrows sticking out of Theseus, for now.

Thomas knew Theseus had armor on – among them four, he was the only one who had it, if you don’t count Lucid’s chestplate. He wore it under the hoodie, and Thomas took a hobby to throw a stone at him, every now and then, just to hear the netherite clang harmlessly. Lucid didn’t appreciate it, though, and it usually ended with the avian running away for his dear life.

Whenever the arrows hit Theseus, it seemed like they didn’t get past the armor either and got stuck somewhere between the pieces or in cloth. Thomas would hope so, because he really didn’t want to waste the materials from first aid kit on him, especially considering the fact that Tommy was here. ‘Uh, don’t look, I am going to pull out an arrow out of my brother’ gave too much L’manburg’s war for Independence vibes for his liking.

“What are they doing?” Tommy asked in the voice that had been a mix of surprise and awe.

“Getting therapy. And these guys,” Thomas pointed at the skeleton horseman just as it tried to ram into Theseus, the hybrid jumping out of the horse’s way last moment, “Are their therapists.”

Tommy gave him an impressed look and punched him on the shoulder, “Stop it. I really want to know.”

Thomas chuckled, “That’s a skeleton trap. It’s a common rule not to approach a lonely skeleton horse, because it gets struck by lightning and boom – you've got four spooky scary horsemen start chasing you around.”

“And why did Lucid and Theseus do it?” Tommy asked.

“Well, firstly, the self-preservation had been extinct in our family for generations. But if you mean why like in purpose, then they are trying to get us transport.”

“Let's go help them then!”

And just like that, he was lunging towards the battlefield. Literally seconds after what Thomas told him about self-preservation instinct.

Thomas managed to grab his arm and yanked him backwards, “Tommy, NO-”

And that’s when one of the horsemen had spotted them and swiftly drawn his bow.

In fight or flight response, Thomas didn’t have fight at all. It was flight screaming or flight silently, and in some cases, like this one, it was ‘scoop up the idiot next to you and run’ response. Mostly used for Tubbo and Wilbur in the past, now it activated with Tommy, too.

He took an epic hundred eighty turn, cinematographically spreading his wings and covering up the boy with them as he tightened the grip on Tommy's arm and dragged him along and ran. Luckily, he seemed too confused to resist Thomas’ pull and allowed himself to be taken away from the battlefield, “Why are we running?”

“Because I am not tired of living yet!” Thomas screamed.

The arrow whistled somewhere near him, causing him to flinch and shout in terror.

“But I have a weapon!” Tommy protested, hand gripping his dagger.

“That is not a weapon, that’s a toothpick!”

There was a loud clatter of hooves behind their backs and oh no they are being chased.

“THESEUS BE HELPFUL FOR ONCE!” He screamed on top of his lungs; he didn’t know where the raccoon was at the moment but could only hope he was loud enough to be heard through the rain and thunder.

And as if the situation couldn’t become worse Tommy just had to trip over something and slammed into the ground full weight.

“TOMMY STAND UP YOU ARE NOT A GIRL IN A CLICHE HORROR MOVIE AND YOU ARE NOT EVEN WEARING HEELS-”

His tirade was interrupted by a second arrow piercing into the dirt just a few feet away from them. Thomas couldn’t afford waiting for Tommy to stand up himself, so he just attempted to scoop him up, bridal style. Which turned out not to be the best idea since the height and weight difference wasn't very significant. Thomas made like a dozen of steps on the adrenaline rush alone before he lost his balance and both of them were sent screaming to the ground.

Thomas could feel the ground shaking slightly as the horsemen approached. He rolled on the ground just in time to see the skeleton drawing his bow back and the lightning painting the sky into hot-white somewhere in the distance.

If Thomas had a nickel every time he thought he was going to die, at this point he would have a freaking bank. The whole 'life flashing before his eyes' function decided to take an off day and leave him to a different kind of flashbacks.

And then Theses screeched out a battle cry - which sounded more like someone stepped on his tail - and the Axe of Piece slashed the skeleton's neck from behind.

The decapitated skull in an iron helmet flew straight into Thomas' hands. He caught it on instinct - met eyes with the hollow sockets - screamed - and threw it to Tommy.

Tommy freaked out and yeeted it into Theseus.

Theseus didn't expect it either and passed it back to Thomas.

Who knows how long they would toss the skull around if Lucid didn't slam with it with the trident mid-flight.

The screaming halted and all four of them stared at each other with different degrees of confusion.

Lucid was the first person to move. He turned around and pulled out the rope and went towards the skeleton horses. With their previous riders turned into nothing but piles of bones, the undead animals wandered around the plains without a purpose.

Thomas had all the rights to still be in shock or scream or whatever, but the Trash Panda wasn’t of any use at all, so he had to be the one to break the silence and check up on Tommy, “You alright?”

Visibly, he seemed fine, dirty clothes aside.

But Tommy didn’t exactly have a lot of experience in fighting with mobs, not when their childhood house was always surrounded by light that kept the monsters away. Thomas distinctly remembered taking on some easier mobs when he was younger, mostly zombies and spiders, a close combat and with supervision of Phil or one of his brothers. Honestly, he should have expected Tommy to bolt into the fight the first chance he got, but he got distracted by internally cussing out Theseus and didn’t exactly stop him in time.

“Of course, I am,” Tommy huffed. “You didn’t let me land a single hit.”

He sounded almost resentful.

Thomas protected him and the child decided to get mad that he wasn’t allowed to get shot to his death.

“You’re welcome,” he grumped, finally getting up from the ground.

Thomas had to remind himself the fact that this Tommy was, well, a child. Like even more of a child than he was when he got on the SMP. That Tommy, as in young Thomas, had survived on his own for weeks, and he didn’t conveniently have three future versions of himself doing all the hard work, including, but not limited to navigation, hunting, setting and protecting temporary camps. Tommy didn’t perceive anything serious enough – he wasn’t forced to do that just yet. And that was good. It meant that they were succeeding in their goal after all.

The irritation faded away as quickly as It came. Thomas, however, wasn’t an all-forgiving saint; he was as far from that as Lucid was from a ballerina. So, he spread his wings and shook them like a wet dog, sprawling drops of mud and water all over his companions.

“Looks like we are going to have a travel laundry day,” He cheerfully announced in response to their angry yells, “Have fun trying to wash off that in cold water without any soap.”

“No-o-o-o-o,” Tommy shouted.

Theseus tried to wipe off the mud from his face, but only succeeded in smudging it all around his eyes and ended up looking like a raccoon even more than he did before, “You are the only one with spare clothes here, Tommy.”

The boy stopped yelling, “Oh, right.”

Lucid appeared on the hill, near their camping spot, five horses by his side – one normal and four undead. He gestured them to come over, and Thomas pulled on Tommy’s shoulder lightly, “Let’s get you out of the rain.”

When they got close enough, Henry approached Tommy, looking like she was about to bolt at any moment, “Why are her eyes so strange?”

“She has a cultural shock, give her time.”

Appropriate reaction to a walking skeleton version of herself, really, especially when one of the undead’s decided to nudge its head into Henry’s neck. If normal skeletons had tried to approach Thomas and propose him a business deal or something he would freak out too.

“Come here, buddy,” Tommy was quick to bring Henry to sit with himself under the stone canopy again, pulling out the blanket to wrap around himself as he changed into dry clothes.

Thomas could only hope neither him nor anyone in this group will catch a cold from after this night.

They got the transport, at least. For all the suffering he had gone through he deserved to at least one of them, “Lucid, choose your pony, I’ll get one of the remainings.”

Even though Lucid was the one to create the mess that was this night, Thomas found himself strangely lacking any irritation or anger. Maybe it was because of almost childish joy with what his ‘cousin’ took the offer, wrapping his hands around the neck of one of the skeleton horses. (Don’t let it distract yourself from the fact he tried to murder you on multiple occasions). Lucid pulled out a green bandana – he has one too? - and tied it to the back of the horse's head, after which he cleared the way for Thomas to choose. The avian approached the horses and got taken aback by the fact that they literally looked almost the same.

Well, he didn’t know what he expected, he had met skeleton horses before. They don’t eat, don’t make sounds, don’t get tired and generally are very easy to take care of. Just make sure that they don’t crash down a cliff or meet a too-enthusiastic dog, or otherwise you mind find your skeleton horse missing a leg or two (spoken from experience).

Thomas took a long minute and finally settled on the tallest of the horses. It had an elegant silhouette and didn’t seem to mind when the avian carefully traced its spine with his fingers, “That’s Mellohi.”

Lucid made a sound, something like a hum of approval.

Both of them turned around to Theseus, who sat on the ground, wet tail clinging to his thigh. He shrugged, “I don’t care as long as it’s a horse.”

Thomas clicked his tongue, “Shame, I was thinking of gifting you a mule.”

“Nobody asked you, Mud Penguin.”

Rain didn’t seem like it was going to stop any soon, but at least the lightnings got less common. Once the thunderstorm eases, they might go and try to find a better shelter under a tree or in a cave. While it's still showered heavily, though, Thomas decided to take advantage of that – he sat near Tommy and Henry and spread his wings to the full length to let the rain wash off the grease from top of his feathers before Theseus came up with any new stupid nicknames for him.

Tommy ducked his head under one of his wings and frowned, “Wait a minute.”

He pulled his head out to the rain, then under his wing and did that repeatedly for a dozen times until he was shoved away by Thomas, “Stop getting on my nerves.”

“Your wings are waterproof!” Tommy exclaimed.

“Yeah, Captain Obvious, so what?”

“It means that you are literally a living tent!”

As to prove his point, Tommy moved to sit fully under his wing, “See? I’m dry under here, and there is much more space than with the canopy!”

Thomas let the wing fall a bit just enough to smack the top of Tommy’s head lightly, “Did you even ask a permission?”

“Can I sit under your wing?”

Thomas paused. A ‘no’ clang to his tongue and never turned into a real word. It was kind of was warmer with Tommy shielding him from the cold to his right, “You can stay, I suppose. But you will have to share your blanket.”

It was immediately wrapped around shoulders. Okay, a fair trade. And he kind of actually enjoyed feeling human warmth so close to him again, so it wasn’t that bad.

That was until Theseus decided to approach and boldly ducked under the same wing to sit next to Tommy. A smart move. Now the avian can’t just fold his wing without getting the boy exposed to the rain as well. Didn’t stop Thomas from snarling, “I didn’t invite you.”

“Shut up.” The raccoon mumbled.

“Get out.”

“No, I like it here.”

“Well, I don’t like you.”

Tommy moved to lean against Thomas’ arm, and the insult towards Theseus had died on his tongue. They couldn't even exchange angry glances because the raccoon had been shielded from sight by the avian’s own wing, so the only thing he had left to do was move his feathers slightly in hope to dump some water on the Theseus’ head.

Tommy fell asleep shortly after, which wasn’t surprising since it had been around an hour past midnight, and they usually settled for rest shortly after the sunset. Thomas waited a bit. Then moved. Tommy twitched slightly. Thomas puzzled over how to resettle him without waking him up. Surprisingly, it was Theseus who came to his help. He carefully took the boy’s head in his hands and put it down to the avain’s lap upon the latter’s gesture. Thomas tossed the blanket on Tommy’s shoulders.

His gaze moved from the boy to the lonely figure sitting with the horses, his red hoodie darkened into brown from the water and mud. Lucid was obviously looking at them but turned away as soon as he noticed the avian staring in response.

Thomas huffed, “Are you coming or not?”

Lucid tilted his head to the side, “What?”

The avian flapped his other wing invitingly. Lucid paused. Let his head fall, then rise again. His next question was obvious, ‘Why?’

Thomas rolled his eyes, “Well, if I had let the racoon stay, I can tolerate you too.”

Lucid hesitated, but, in the end, settled awkwardly to his left.

It wasn’t very long when it until it was just the rain, an avian humming a soft melody, and three figures curled up under his spread wings.

Chapter Text

Warm. Warm and cozy.

The soft pounding in Tommy's ears he initially assumed to be the start of a headache, turned out to be someone’s slow heartbeat. He attempted to open his eyes, but the sunlight was too bright and he immediately hid his face with his hands, clinging closer to... Wilbur? Did they fall asleep on the couch last night?

Soft feathers brushed against his shoulder. Oh, so that’s not Wilbur, but Phil. Either him or Tommy fell asleep in the chicken coop again, which happened much more often than one would anticipate.

But no, that was not a chicken. Last time he checked, chickens didn’t have elbows to dig into his side uncomfortably with. Tommy’s own foot settled against someone's leg. He tried to kick it and oops, that’s not a leg, that’s a head. A muffled, low yelp followed.

It seemed like Tommy was going to get strangled today, “Sorry, Techno.”

“Take a second guess,” a male voice hissed.

Tommy’s eyes fluttered open to see Theseus angrily rubbing his face, where a quite clear dirty print of a boot was left, double oops.

Tommy, an incredible actor he was, closed his eyes again and tried to pretend to be asleep.

“I know you are awake.”

“No, I’m not,” he muttered.

“You are talking.”

“I am talking in my sleep. I am sleepwalking except make it sleeptalking.”

Sign.

“Maybe you will sleep-apologize then?”

“You should thank him, Theseus.” Another drowsy voice joined from behind Tommy, surprisingly close to his ear. “He fixed your ugly face.”

Tommy belatedly realized he had been laying on someone’s chest. Specifically, Thomas’, now that he was awake enough to recognize the voice. Theseus was part of the pile, too. One he noticed Tommy opened his eyes again, however, he was quick to jump to his feet with a ‘You saw nothing’ kind of frown, “So everyone’s awake now?”

“Lucid’s still asleep.” Thomas responded, yawning.

Tommy blinked and finally noticed their last companion resting a few feet away, back flat on the ground. Up to this point Lucid always preferred to sleep away from others, or he didn’t sleep altogether – Tommy didn’t risk going to check – so the boy assumed that he takes the mask off at night, but the unsettling sad face was still present. Not only that, but his sleep position seemed extremely uncomfortable, and his chest rose and fell too slowly even for a sleeping person, or did it at all?

“Are you sure he’s not dead though?” Tommy asked.

Theseus and Thomas exchanged a glance, and the latter casually asked, “Are you dead, Lucid?”

No response. Now that was getting really concerning. Thomas was first to react, jolting forward and reaching for the masked man’s arm. His wrist was grabbed an inch away, and the next thing Tommy knew, Lucid was up on his legs and the avian flew over their heads with a terrified yelp. Note made, never ever touch Lucid, even if he appears to be a corpse.

Theseus shrugged his shoulders, “I think he is alive.”

Thomas moaned from where he hit the ground, rolling to his side, “But I am not.”

Lucid looked at the avian, and then at them, and it felt suspiciously like he was considering yeeting Tommy next, so he did a 1000IQ move and dropped himself on the ground next to Thomas, “Uh, I am dead, too.”

"Consider returning to the land of living, or I am leaving without you.” Theseus put hands in his pockets and walked away. Lucid shifted weight from one foot to the other, shot them a strange glance before turning abruptly to the horses.

Thomas didn’t stand up immediately as expected, wincing and groaning like a dying llama. Tommy was already on his legs and the avian still struggled to push himself upright pretty much like the last night, “Need a hand, old man?”

Thomas rolled his eyes, “Did you join their club, too?”

“What club?”

“Torment the poor me for absolutely no apparent reason’ club.” Tommy offered a hand, and despite his complains, the avian accepted the help, “Everyone here just bullies me.”

Tommy chuckled, “Why don’t bully them back then?”

“Can’t argue against an axe and a trident.”

Thomas pulled him lightly by his shoulder, and Tommy took a couple steps before realizing, “Wait, what about breakfast?”

Instead of an answer, Lucid kneeled and picked up something from the ground and cheerfully offered it to Tommy. A lizard. Tommy wasn’t afraid of lizards, but it still was unsettling to watch it wiggle around in Lucid’s hands, “And what am I supposed to do with it?”

“Eat it,” Theseus snorted, “if you are still hungry, of course.”

Lucid’s head snapped at Theseus, either angrily or... With intense approval of his haircut? With a question about marketing strategies? Happiness from the other’s existence? Tommy couldn’t really tell, and that was unnerving at the very least.

“He is saying that there is nothing to hunt here,” Thomas stepped in, and tension visibly drained from Lucid’s shoulders. “We will have to wait until we reach a village to stock up on food. And clothes. And all the basic resources in general.”

Tommy signed disappointedly, “And how long is until that village?”

“Shouldn’t be too far, now. We saw a well yesterday before the rain started, remember?”

Oh, so that was a well?

Tommy coughed, “Um, yeah. Okay. I got it.”

To his great relief, no one noticed his hesitance. Theseus was busy with hanging all the bags on a single skeleton horse, and Thomas joined him to help. Packing was for peasants and peasant Tommy was not, so he quickly found himself near Henry, tied up to a short thick bush next to Lucid’s pet.

Now, Tommy had seen a ton of skeletons in his life, but skeleton horses were something completely new. If either Phil or Techno had ever mentioned them before, it certainly went past his ears. Unlike their human-like counterparts, they seemed much less prone to gun shooting and more like an accident of nature. This thing is evil, that thing is too, and then there is a random horse in that row, sure, that totally makes sense.

Tommy pocked Henry lightly with his finger. Warm, living, and quite uncondensed with the lack of petting and scratching. That’s a horse.

Then he proceeded to put his arm up to his elbow inside the skeleton’s ribcage, and it didn't even spare him a glance. That’s a horse?

Tommy continued to push his arm further just to see how much he can get away with. He was stopped by a hand on his shoulder, and the touch send shivers down his spine, even though he couldn’t feel any warmth though the black gloves.

Why do I hear boss music?

Tommy slowly turned around and met eyes with the mask floating inches from his face, “Uh, good morning to you too?”

He attempted to jump away in last effort to save his miserable life, but to his terror, he found himself unable to. His arm was in the horse’s ribcage up to his shoulder and he got stuck.

I am leaving my greatest possession, a grand collection of The Queen’s portraits, to you, WIlbur. Techno can have the cereal box in my closet I was too lazy to throw away three months ago. Tell Phil that he should consider becoming a dentist – because, why not? - and also maybe leave my dagger to Thomas just to help him with his bullying problem and restore balance in the universe.

And of course, it was that moment the horse decided to move few steps forward, dragging Tommy along with it.

“Thooomas,” he whined. “He-elp.” And when Lucid’s grip on his shoulder tightened, “HELP!”

The avian arrived a few seconds later, but to Tommy, that was an eternity of painful waiting. The avian clicked his tongue, sparkles of laugh in his eye, “How did you even manage-?”

“Is he going to kill me?” Tommy interrupted.

“Nobody’s killing anyone. Lucid, quit scaring him, please, and keep the horse still for me.”

Slowly, the hand slipped from his shoulder. Tommy was able to breath freely again. Thomas leaned above his arm, carefully examining where it got stuck in-between two ribs, “Hold on, I am going to get you out.”

Tommy was just about to ask if that was going to hurt, but then Thomas reached forward, grabbed one of the ribs and –

The rib was in Thomas’ hand.

The rib was in Thomas’ hand.

Tommy screamed.

Lucid didn’t scream but his hands flew to his head in a very expressive display of terror.

It was solid half a minute later that Tommy finally noticed that the horse seemed completely unfazed by the absence of the bone, curiously bumping its head into frozen Lucid’s mask. With now quite a considerable gap where the rib was supposed to be, he was able to slowly bend and pull his arm out. Thomas patiently waited for Tommy to take a step back before he flipped the bone in his hand and carefully brought it to the horse’s spine where it was put back in place with a loud click,
“There you go.”

“That is so cool.” Tommy exclaimed. “Can you remove any bone like that?”

Thomas nodded, “Pretty much. I never tried to move a skull, though, even I know that sounds like a horrible idea.”

Well, if you think of it...

“Can I try?”

And just like that, Lucid climbed on the horseback in one swift motion and panickily trotted away from Tommy.

“You will end up giving him a heart attack.” Thomas commented with a wheeze.

It’s not his fault Lucid was so dramatic. The horse was fine, and he still seemed mad, or upset, or both at the same time, “Whatever.”

“We are leaving! That is a last warning, I am not going to wait for anyone!” Theseus yelled, already on his horse as well.

Tommy didn’t want to be the last, obviously, so he approached Henry, but quickly was stopped by Thomas light grip, “Wait, we don’t have a saddle for you.”

Tommy had never ridden a horse before, saddle present or not, but how hard could it be? Both Theseus and Lucid seemed to be doing just fine, “So what?”

“You will fall.” And, like he was able to read Tommy’s thoughts, “We are experienced, and you are not.”

“I will be fine.”

Henry nudged her head in Tommy’s shoulder, approving. Or demanding another apple, but he was fairly sure that was an approval.

“The sooner we get to the village, the faster we get him a proper saddle and a bridle,” Theseus cut in, sending his horse into a quick walk,” Besides, I’m sick of listening to his complains about how tired he is. Just help him on the horse and make sure he doesn’t break his neck or something.”

Tommy didn’t know whether he wanted to thank Theseus or stab him with a knife. He didn’t complain that much. Hundred times at the very most. Uh, in a span of three minutes.

Thomas signed, but nodded nevertheless, “Just give me a second.”

He went to search something in the grass where they – yeah, Tommy was an active part of that battle – fought last night. He returned with a shiny white helmet he recognized as one of the skeletons’.

“I am not going to wear it,” Tommy announced.

“Yes, you are.” Thomas dumped the helmet on his head, “Or I am not going to let you ride Henry.”

“Who said I need your permission?”

Tommy jostled to Henry, quickly pushed himself up on her back. In his head, they were supposed set off from place immediately before anyone could stop them.

In reality, though...

“Are you stuck again?”

No, I am just hanging over the horse like a bag of potatoes because it’s extremely fun.

Tommy wasn’t going to admit defeat that easily, so he stubbornly attempted to throw one of his legs on the other side of the horse’s back, heavily leaning on Henry’s neck as he did so.

“See, I can do this-”

Thomas burst laughing, and Tommy had no other wish other than to disappear altogether, because he was sitting on the horse backwards.

“Stop it,” he felt his ears filling with red-hot warmth.

At least Theseus and Lucid were far enough not to see Tommy’s humiliation. Thomas coughed, “Sorry.” His lips still curled up in a suppressed smile, “How about I help you this time?”

Tommy kept his confident bravado for about ten minutes before he was forced to admit defeat. Lucid galloped far ahead of them, wind knocking down his hood, while the boy struggled to keep himself balancing on Henry’s back, all while Thomas leaded her on foot himself. Riding together was impossible as the avian’s wings occupied place worth of another person - ‘You are fat’, ‘These are all feathers!’.

“I promise to I will teach you to ride as soon as possible,” Thomas told him.

Both Theseus and Lucid had refused to share a horse with Tommy, not even after two hours en route. And while the hybrid deadpanned a short, solid ‘no’, Lucid somewhat hesitated, looking down on Thomas. Tommy was very curious to see how he was going to use his notebook now, but instead, he made a strange quick gesture with his hands and hurried to trot away from them again. An insult?

A death threat? Tommy couldn’t possibly know. His question had been clearly written on his face, but Thomas didn’t notice that immediately, expression thoughtful and somewhat surprised.

“What did that mean?” Tommy asked.

Thomas blinked, like he forgot about his existence altogether. “He apologized. In sign language.”

“You know sign language?”

The ‘Why didn’t you use it before?’ question was left unsaid.

“We know a couple of very basic phrases. And I mean really basic, like, ‘We met other mute person a couple of times’ type of basic.” Thomas explained. “Lucid doesn’t speak sign language either, that’s why he carries around his notebook.”

Ah, that made much more sense, “Why not learn it fluently then?”

“I didn’t ask, to be honest,” Thomas shrugged shoulders, “but I would guess he had no one to ask to teach him.”

Tommy’s gaze involuntarily locked on Lucid from where he was leaning close to his horse’s neck, like purposefully avoiding their gazes, “That’s... Actually kind of sad.”

Tommy couldn’t imagine not being able to communicate with anyone other than by written text. It always felt awkward to wait for Lucid to scribble his responses, and it made sense why he didn’t use that method very often either.

“It is,” Thomas admitted, scratching Henry’s head absently, “There are a lot of things that are rather sad about him. He doesn’t like pity, though. And questions, especially about his,” the avian gestured to his face, “You know, mask. So, it would be better if you didn’t insist on asking.”

Tommy couldn’t say he had a strong urge to talk to Lucid in general, but nodded, nevertheless.

One successful raid peaceful trading with the nearby village later

“Four saddles, normally bought.”

Tommy nodded, the bag with money lighter in his hands than before.

“Food, estimated for about another week, donated to a homeless man with cancer who got robbed by a bandit gang.”

Thomas grinned, biting into a loaf of fresh bread.

“A map which may or may not have been stolen but only because the cartographer should have hidden it better. Oh, and we also have a bunch of ‘random stuff that people threw at me because he stared at them sinisterly’ ... What?”

Lucid shrugged his shoulders, and Theseus continued after a short pause, “Anything else I am forgetting?”

Someone coughed.

Theseus rolled his eyes, “And a handful of golden apples. I wanted them and I already ate them so you can’t do anything about it.”

“I know you have more,” Thomas grumped, “Just don’t give them to children.”

“Wait, why plural?”

He was caught in 4k , “Uh, I misspoke.”

And then the realization downed on them, “I am not a child!” followed from Thomas, and angry scribbling from Lucid, ‘Double that.’

“I changed my mind,” Theseus announced. “You are not a Chicken. You are a Mother Hen.”

Thomas opened his mouth to defend himself, but then something moved in the corner of his vision. He snapped at it just in time to see a black bird – a crow – flying up from a tree branch. Before it disappeared, though, he caught the unusual blue color of its eyes, “Guys, I think we have a problem.”

Chapter Text

What is the definition of sus?

When someone mentions a problem, never tells you what it is, but suddenly all three of your travel companions start acting very differently. Tommy threw a quick glance at where Lucid had been fiddling with a knife; ‘two’, he corrected himself, but to what extent.

“Didn’t you tell it is dangerous to travel at night?” Tommy asked a couple hours earlier, when the sun just disappeared below the horizon and their group submerged into the twilight darkness of the plains bordering with a spruce forest.

“Only when you’re alone,” Theseus answered. He and his horse – who they ended up calling Bones for the lack of better ideas - had leaded their group, followed by Thomas and Tommy, with Lucid closing their procession.

Usually, Tommy wasn’t the one to be worried about safety, but someone had to be, given how both hybrids suddenly threw all precautions away. It took three hostile mobs – a zombie, easily slayed by a quick swing of Theseus’ axe, and of a couple of spiders who had creeped up on them dangerously close before Lucid had noticed and got rid of them– that they had finally agreed on calling it a night.

Tommy didn’t participate in setting up the camp, too exhausted to even keep himself upright anymore. His muscles hurt the most in the first days, unused to the extent of physical activities; within a week of such regime, however, the throb faded from annoying to strangely pleasant. It felt good to finally let himself rest after long hours split between the endless walking, twins’ arguing and occasional terrorizing Lucid (Tommy didn’t give up the idea of persuading him into becoming a manager yet), but he didn’t expect his body to feel that sore from riding a horse. The fact they had almost never stopped, spending hours and hours in saddle, didn’t help it much either.

Tommy let himself sprawl on the ground next to the newly lit campfire. Theseus went to collect more firewood, Thomas took care of the horses, and between him and Lucid, it had been silence interrupted only by an occasional shuffle.

Tommy stared at the night sky, but the clouds had been shielding the stars from here, so he got bored rather easily. He turned his head just a bit to be able to see Lucid in the corner of his vision.

Usually, the masked man was quick to notice others’ glances; not right now, as his gaze was trained on something in his hands. Besides the knife Tommy had already took a note off, Lucid’s had clenched a piece of wood, circular shaped - and that’s all he could really tell from this angle. By occasional shavings falling to the ground and smooth movements of the blade around the object, he could guess Lucid’s had been carving something.

It wasn’t the first time Tommy had caught him doing this. It seemed like any minute Lucid thought nobody’s watching him, he would take out the handiwork and continue poking it with a knife, shoving it back into his pocket as soon as Tommy approached or stared at him for too long. Which was probably the worst possible way to hide something the boy.

“What are working on?” he asked casually, pulling himself up into sitting position. Knife paused in Lucid’s hands, and his mask snapped at Tommy, sudden movement raising an involuntary shudder inside of him.

Now, he still did a terrible job at understanding the meaning of his stares, but if he had to guess, Lucid was probably confused by his question.

“I’m just curious.” Tommy elaborated. And right after, in a demanding tone, “I want to see it.”

Lucid snorted, mask finally looking slightly away from Tommy. That was obviously a negative answer. A word ‘no’, however, didn’t exist in Tommy’s dictionary, or at least it was periodically erased from it. He thrusted forward, hoping to snatch the object by surprise.

Tommy was too slow, however; Lucid was already on his legs, hand raised in the air and out of his reach. He tried to jump and got shoved away, lightly, but enough that he almost fell and had to take a couple of steps back to retain his balance.

“At least tell me what it is,” Tommy huffed. “A weapon? A bomb?”

“What is happening?”

Too busy trying to steal Lucid’s handiwork, Tommy didn’t notice a two pair of steps approaching them from behind. Thomas’s gaze shifted between Tommy’s discontented expression and Lucid’s still raised hand. He seemed to come to his own conclusions, chuckling as he did so, “Alright, what are you arguing over?”

Before Tommy could answer, Theseus had appeared from behind Thomas’ back, carrying a pile of firewood. He dropped it on the ground, threw a couple into the fire and, clearly uninterested in their fight, grumped, “You better go to sleep soon. We are leaving early tomorrow.”

“You mean today?” Tommy couldn’t help but short, “I am pretty sure it’s past midnight already. And how early is ‘early’, in your words?”

Theseus shook his hands from dirt, ears twitching up in response to Tommy’s sarcastic tone, “After the sunrise type of early.”

Suddenly, the ache of Tommy muscles screamed and soared, his face wincing just from imaging the pain of waking up, “No, thanks.” He wasn’t going to torture himself like that. “You can leave me here then.”

“Child,” Theseus declared, clearly provocative. Contrary to the popular opinion, Tommy had his weaknesses like other people did, one of them – his hatred for being called a child. Right now, however, he was too exhausted to be bothered by the mockery.

“I am not,” he protested weakly, “I just don’t understand the hurry.”

And that was true. He really didn’t, and nobody bothered to explain him the sudden change in pace. Aside from longer travelling hours and lack of resting ones, it didn’t slip from the boy's attention how his companions were constantly looking around, snapping at every sudden sound and movement. Tommy had no idea what they had been so cautious of, but it didn’t take a genius to understand it had something to do with the problem that everyone, again, refused to tell him about. He added, “Are we being chased?” That was the most logical conclusion, unless he was missing out some more details. “Why? By whom?”

“We are not being chased by anyone,” Thomas was almost too quick to interrupt, “It’s just we want to get to our next destination faster.”

Tommy was pretty sure they had no travel destination this far, aside from ‘getting out of the forest’, and ‘finding a village because we are poor’, but he leaned forward nevertheless when Theseus had unrolled a thin yellowish map on the ground, warm flickering light of the campfire just enough to see the markings and text clearly.

"We decided,” Theseus had started, and that’s just where Tommy stopped listening to his words.

“Wait, we?” he raised his hands, asking the hybrid to pause, “Who do you mean by ‘we’?”

Theseus and Thomas exchanged a look, confused by Tommy’s question. In his opinion, he must have been the one to be surprised here, “You guys had actually agreed on something?”

Now it had downed on them. Their faces winced in identical expression of disgust; Thomas was first to notice, rolling his eyes and sighing, “I guess we did.”

“What else is going to happen?” Tommy raised a brow, “Money will start growing on trees? Sky will turn green? Lucid will start talking?”

Maybe he should not have said the last one; there had been a strong feeling of danger in his guts, like he had stepped on thin ice, and it cracked loudly under his foot.

“Don’t think that’s a common occurrence now.” Theseus snarled, frowning at Thomas, “Temporary truce, right?”

“Right,” the avian nodded back.

Still sus. So very sus.

“As I was saying,” Theseus said, pressing his finger against a spot on the map, “There is a town at the seashore. Just in a few days’ journey. That's where we are heading.”

Honestly, a town sounded nice. Not as much because Tommy missed the luxury of a roof above his head as it was because he got tired of seeing no other face other than, A) his own, but scarred, B) his own, but bruised, and C) something that doesn’t even count as a face, so Tommy nodded both in acknowledgement and approval.

“Why’s the hurry, though?” he asked.

Thomas cleared his throat, "There is a port in that town. Ships’ coming in and out in all directions, but only in the specific time of the year, which ends sometime soon.” As he finished his last words, the avian gestured widely above the large blue spot on the map. It started pretty much at the center and took over the whole left side. Tommy had no idea about the scale of the map but given how their week’s journey had been just a finger long, the sea had to be gigantic.

“And where are we going from there?” he asked.

“We haven’t decided on that one yet,” Thomas said simply. “As soon as we get to the port, the whole world opens before us. We can ask around for ships that take travelers and choose any destination you want.”

Tommy suddenly felt very small, “Any destination I want?”

“Aye,” Thomas confirmed.” But we must sail away at that port, though, and the further, the better.”

Tommy didn’t know what to say to that. Part of him found the twins’ word choice weird, and their voices both too rushed and too stiff, like there was something more to their promises than he couldn’t quite catch or pinpoint; but most of him brushed it off in favor of sudden nervousness that made his head buzz. Quietly, but still annoying, like bees on flower fields.

His eyes went back on the map where the sea ended abruptly on the edges. Unknown, unexplored, open and, suddenly, very reachable.

“Anywhere, you say.” He repeated. “But... Why?”

His question wasn’t understood, Tommy could clearly feel it in the silence that settled, so he rephrased, snapping his head up from the map, “Why are you giving the choice to me?”

“That was the deal from the beginning,” Theseus snorted, like he was saying something utterly obvious, “This journey is for you, after all.”

Well, it was very easy to forget given how Theseus had managed most of the navigation by far. Tommy frowned and asked, “You really mean it? No jokes or anything?”

The twins shook their heads simultaneously, and Thomas confidently added, “No jokes. You can trust me on this.”

After the news that had been downed on him, it was no surprise that Tommy couldn’t fall asleep later that night. His body would feel more than happy to finally slip into a heavy rest, but his mind kept spiraling with the same thoughts that he couldn’t quite let go of.

It had been excited thoughts, at first. The journey had been pretty fun this far, albeit tiring, and he got to see and try things he never did before. But this, he thought, carefully unwrapping the map again, this was a completely different scale. Tommy borrowed a feather and ink from Lucid to circle out the islands he wanted to visit first. Thomas watched him for a while, head tilted curiously like one of a bird, and suggested him not to hurry with his decision yet.

Tommy couldn’t help it, though. In the last ten years, he had never been away from his home for more than a dozen of miles. It wasn’t a surprise he had longed for adventure and explorations, and Phil’s stories of his journeys had only made that desire flare stronger.

Tommy, however, used to hate the thought of leaving his brothers behind. He couldn’t imagine his life differently: without the training hours with Techno and his patient guiding; without soft ring of Wilbur’s songs as he fell asleep. What he couldn’t force himself to imagine had turned into a harsh reality. When Techno left, more than a year ago - not like Phil, but permanently – their family didn’t feel quite the same anymore. In fact, it didn’t feel like there was any family at all.

Sure, Phil still sent letters in his absence and was, well, Phil, as calm and kind as usual, when he did return home for short breaks, but Tommy had never been particularly close to his adoptive father – he never called him a father, either, not even as a young child – and once Techno, the chain connecting them, was gone, their relationship strained noticeably.

That wasn’t the case for Wil, though. It didn’t bother Tommy how often Phil’s crows had arrived at their home to bring a new letter nor that barely a tenth of them were addressed to the younger boy. Wilbur had known him for a longer time, and he was upset over Techno’s absence, for the lack of better word, so if Phil had managed to cheer up his brother, Tommy couldn’t be happier.

That was until Tommy had overheard their conversation during Phil’s last visit. He could have easily missed out that one if he had just closed the window in time; but he heard his own name and couldn’t help but tune into their quiet voices coming from the roof.

Wilbur said a lot of things Tommy didn’t know about before. That he would want to leave, too, with his father or like Techno, but couldn’t, not while he had a younger brother to take care of. Both him and Phil had agreed Tommy was too young - which made his heart fill with frustration than anything else – to tag along with them.

Wilbur’s words haunted his for weeks, even longer after Phil had left. Tommy didn’t want to be a burden. Tommy didn’t want to hold his brother back, so he had thought of a simple solution. He would fulfill his old dream and leave for an adventure of his own, Wilbur would be freed of his responsibility and could finally join Phil as he had always wanted.

(Maybe later, Tommy would get a chance to proof he was capable, that he wasn’t a child, and could be welcomed back into the family again.)

Tommy’s plan went far better than he expected, now. Travelling by foot like he had initially planned was simply nothing in comparison with the opportunity to cross the ocean, and it was even more exciting given the fact he had never been at a seashore before.

Wilbur had, though, together with Techno, back when Phil hadn’t settled down in one place yet, dragging his only – at that moment – two children along with him. They said the pictures in the books are nothing in comparison with reality. Whatever that meant.

Tommy would lie, however, if he said he wasn’t just a tad bit jealous. Maybe not a bit but like a BIT. Wilbur found about this soon enough and had promised to take him on a beach one day. ‘Lads on tour’, he used to say, but his words got lost in the past years, overridden by everyday life and routine.

Wilbur didn’t fulfill his promise, but strangers did. Well, at this point Tommy had internally agreed to promote Thomas to a status of a friend and Theseus – of a good acquittance; it didn’t, however, change the fact he had known the other men for little over a week. It was confusing, how easily his companions were ready to give in to his wishes.

“Because otherwise you would end up in a ditch or a dumpster.” Theseus huffed. “Either dead or homeless.”

Thomas pinched the bridge of his nose before turning around and giving an answer, “It’s his way of saying that we care.”

“It’s not.” Theseus screeched.

...And one could guess where the conversation went from that point. Tommy tuned out of the argument quickly, but Thomas’ words kept spiraling in his thoughts. ‘We care’, just like that, so simple and straightforward.

It was something that could be heard from someone close, from a family member. Though they had introduced themselves as his brothers on the first meeting, and Tommy was still conflicted about whether he wanted to believe it or not. As Thomas’ bruises healed and his face turned into an actual, well, face, from a purple-black massacre it was before, it became obvious that he and Theseus were exact copies of each other and, consequently, almost exact copies of Tommy, but taller and maybe just a bit more masculine.

It wasn’t the appearances, though, that confused him the most, but the way the hybrids acted. Thomas checking up on Tommy when he got too quiet, Theseus’ annoying, yet light teases and insults – it reminded him too much of his older brother.

Tommy had called Thomas Wilbur’s name when asking him to help to saddle Henry this morning. It slipped from his tongue before he realized it, and when he did, he used a tactical retreat (running away with a tomato-red face) to save the situation. He avoided talking to the avian a good chunk of the day, brushing off all the questions and concerns the other had shown.

Tommy avoided of thinking of Will too much these days. Tried not to imagine him settled idly on the couch with a book in hand or humming an absent tune as he fumbled through the flowers in their backyard garden, but the boy’s still too-awake mind found nothing better than to go over these memories again and again.

Sensation of someone’s fingers ruffling through his hair made Tommy’s eyes snap open. He could swear he felt the touch and the warmth but the air around him was empty and cold. Tommy curled up further under the blanket, blinking to adjust to the dim light.

He spotted Thomas sleeping, wrapped in his own wings tightly like a cocoon. Theseus rested not far from him, a bag under his head instead of a pillow, and one hand clenching the handle of his axe, like he had expected to be attacked in his sleep. Tommy didn’t want to know what could happen if he accidentally startled him right now, so he tried to be as quiet as possible as he rolled onto his side and towards the campfire.

Tommy felt his heart skip a bit when he found someone sitting in front of it, crossed-legged, with their back turned to Tommy. Before he could react or say anything, though, the person turned their head just enough for the boy to see a black ‘eye’ on a familiar white mask, “Lucid?”

Tommy barely even recognized him at first: the red hoodie he had previously clenched on as much as Theseus did to his cape, was now tied up around his waist, leaving him in a plain, long-sleeved black shirt. He seemed much thinner now, not like a walking skeleton Thomas was, but certainly skinnier than Theseus or Tommy himself. Lucid nodded, light gleaming both on the mask and his blonde hair.

Tommy huffed, “Change of style, aye? Planning on becoming a model or something?”

Without the hood and constant tension in his shoulders, he seemed less of a murderer and more of a normal human being. Lucid looked down on himself, then at Tommy, and snorted quietly – what the boy would normally consider a sign of irritation this time sounded simply amused.

Lucid gestured towards Theseus and Thomas, then at him. A pause. Was that a question? A statement? Whatever Lucid meant, he clearly waited for a response. Tommy pushed himself up on his elbows and thought for a short moment, “Did they sign up you for a fashion show?”

Lucid shook his head intensely. He gestured at Tommy again. It didn’t have to do anything with Lucid himself, then. Something between Tommy, Thomas and Theseus.

Okay, another try, “Uh, you want to know my stand on hybrid rights?”

A ‘no’ again.

“You want me to eat them for a late dinner? That’s cannibalism, you know.”

Lucid’s shoulders rose and fell in a short sign. He took out his notebook, ‘Why are you not sleeping?’

That made a lot more sense, though Tommy still had to pause for a moment to think of his answer. Why? Because his stupid brain decided not to let him to, and totally not because he was feeling homesick. Tommy rubbed his eyes with his fingers and groaned, “Just can’t.”

He totally expected some further questions, like from Wilbur whenever he found Tommy up late at night, and felt almost relieved when Lucid didn’t pry, only nodded, like acknowledging a simple fact, ‘You should try though. You heard Theseus.’

“Theseus can shove his instructions wherever he wants,” Tommy grumped, but did relax his hands and let his upper body to fall back on the cot, “Besides, why are you still up?”

‘Just can’t sleep’

Oh, so he was being mocked again. Tommy snorted, “Whatever.”

They fell silent. Lucid turned away, resuming whatever thing he had doing before – which was, as Tommy suspected, blankly staring into the fire – and the boy was left to his thoughts.

He suddenly became hyper-aware of how unfamiliar everything around him was; sounds, smells, even the light flickered differently to his eyes now. The longing feeling tightening his breath doubled in force, adding to a newly formed hollow of loneliness in his chest, and Tommy’s slow, full-lung inhale did nothing to ease either of them.

Tommy forced his eyelids stay open, and he noticed how Lucid had turned around again, sounds catching the other man’s attention.

Lucid made an eye contact with the boy, and, to his great surprise, patted at the ground beside him. It was a gesture hard to misinterpret, “You want me to sit with you?”

He nodded.

Tommy raised a brow, wondering if he had started hallucinating or something. There could be no way Lucid had offered that. If he had learned something about his masked companion in the time they spent together was that he despised interacting with anybody, save for his horse, and Tommy – most of all people.

Yet Lucid repeated his gesture and looked at Tommy expectantly.

“You sure?”

And he nodded again. Well, some company is better than company at all, and Lucid had nobody but himself to blame if this went wrong, so Tommy didn’t hesitate much before hanging over the cot and letting himself to slip down beside him. Lucid moved to the side to give the boy – or himself – some space.

Heat radiated from the fire. Tommy found himself involuntary leaning towards it with his hands and his whole body. Lucid took out another piece of wood and threw it in, receiving a pleased hiss from the flames. It reminded Tommy of the fireplace at home, how he and his brothers used to sit in front of it the long nights they waited for Phil’s return, often – with cups of hot chocolate and tea. Wilbur and Techno sometimes would asleep like that, with their drinks unfinished, sprawled on the couch or on the floor in a pile of pillows and blankets, so similar to how Theseus and Thomas did right now.

Lucid had been Tommy, in this analogy, but with a lack of brotherly feelings for the other two. He had wondered before, and did now, how did he end up together with his presumable cousins. Why he was agreeing to any of this in the first place and why did he continue to tolerate Tommy’s shenanigans and didn’t stab him with a trident yet.

Lucid seemed to be in a good mood right now, so he decided to try his luck, “Why are you here?”

Mask had tilted to the side. Tommy took a second to think of the more precise question, “I don’t think you agree with this whole family thing, do you?” A confirming nod. “So why don’t just skedaddle out of this group?”

He had caught Lucid by surprise, clearly.

He didn’t try to take out his notebook again and only gave Tommy a quick shrug.

Here comes the silence again. Tommy didn’t know why he had expected an answer or why he felt slightly disappointed at the lack of one. He could see Lucid glaring at him in the corner of his eyes, for a long moment, as if considering something, before he took out an object from his pocket that Tommy recognized as the wooden handiwork from earlier. Knife was nowhere to be seen, though, “You finally finished it?”

‘Yes.’

And just like that, Tommy’s curiosity was back, “Can I see it?”

Tommy half-expected him to try and hide it again. Lucid didn’t, but clenched the object tighter, as if hesitating with the decision. So, it wasn’t a completely lost case then, “Please? I promise to return it right after.”

A gloved hand was extended to him, fingers carefully unwrapping to reveal a wooden... compass?

Tommy took it and brought closer to his face to get a better look. It was, indeed, a compass. Or at least an imitation of one. The encasing laid smoothly in his hands, perfectly fitting into his palm. The ‘face’ of the compass was curved outwards slightly and had appropriate markings of the sides of the world but had strange symbols in-between them: a bee, a creeper face, a fox tail, a duck and many others he didn’t recognize.

But most impressive, no doubt, was an arrow in the center of the compass. Lucid had managed to carve the area under it in a way that the arrow appeared to be floating above the symbols. It couldn’t move, though, and hence was useless as a tool. As a piece of art, however, “It’s incredible. Yo’re really good at this, huh?”

The compliment was acknowledged with a short sound distinctly resembling a chuckle, not of an amusement but rather an ironic one. Tommy felt almost regretful returning the compass back to Lucid. The owner traced the symbols with his thumb and twisted it in his hands. He took out the knife and engraved something on the other side.

‘Mine’

“It’s yours, obviously.” Tommy huffed.

Lucid shook his head and tapped on the word with his finger, ‘Mine’.

“Something else is yours?”

Lucid gave him a half-nod that he interpreted as ‘close enough.’

Then something happened that Tommy didn’t expect at all.

Lucid tossed the compass into the crackling fire. No doubt, no hesitation, just like that, the compass disappeared in red and orange flames. The mask stared at it, like entranced, and Tommy could only watch and feel his own face stretching in confusion, “Why? Why did you burn it?”

‘I answered your question,’ was scribbled on a page.

Tommy hardly saw how that could be an answer. All he saw was a well-made thing wasted, “You could have given it to me.”

‘I would burn it either way. I always do.’

“Then you’re doing it wrong.” Tommy snorted.

‘You wanted it?’

“Of course, I did.”

‘You can make yourself a new one.’

“I don’t know how.”

Lucid paused. ‘You want me to teach you?’

Tommy expected a ‘jk’ to come after that one, but Lucid continued to stare, waiting for an answer, “Wait, really?”

He pulled out a piece of wood from the pile and pressed it into Tommy’s hands along with his carving knife, ‘Really.’

Chapter Text

There are a lot of different ways to spend a morning. With a cup of tea, an interesting book or with a sword tilted to your throat (if you’re in the mood for one).

But what is the greater way to start a day than to get the news that your youngest adopted son, in fact, got kidnapped?

On the first time reading the letter, Phil had chuckled and brushed it off – Tommy? Kidnapped? That didn’t make any sense, and hence was immediately categorized as one of Wilbur’s odd jokes, in the same row as an anteaters sacrifice shrine or a recipe for a sand lasagna with a note, ‘Highly recommend’.

The repeating, ‘This is not a joke’, however, rang first bells of alarm in his mind. The further Phil got down the letter, the more confusing and concerning Wilbur’s words got. He could almost sense the panic radiating from the letter, and an image of his son scribbling it as sweat run down his pale face stood vivid in front of the avian’s eyes, pressing his frown deeper and deeper with worry. He found himself skimming through the rest of the paper no longer sat relaxed on a chair but pacing the inn room in large, uncharacteristically loud steps.

Wilbur told, not without a tone of shame, that he got knocked out by one of the kidnappers; when he came back to his senses hours later, not a trace of Tommy was left. Will's normally neat handwriting looked barely recognizable with lines jumping as if he wrote them falling down the stairs, wrestling with an enderman, or, more likely, in a big rush. Phil could only hope this wasn’t going where he thought it would – but alas, his suspicions were confirmed as soon as he got to the end of the letter.

As if Tommy’s kidnapping wasn’t enough stress on itself WIlbur had somehow decided it would be a good idea to search for him and his kidnappers on his own - now Phil didn’t have one but two sons in danger; one in real (though, knowing Tommy, it could be the kidnappers who had suffered more), the other one in potential. At least Will took a moment to warn him. Phil couldn’t imagine what he would do if he returned home only to find it empty of both his sons.

It already made his chest ache thinking how much time had passed since the letter was sent; how much time he wasn’t aware of what happened at home in his absence. Phil wasn’t planning on ending his trip for another month or two and he had already sent Wilbur a message informing of that in the evening four days prior.

Hours later, deep at night, a strange feeling had jolted him awake. Phil wasn’t troubled by nightmares nor he was tended to ignore his own instincts; whether it was his deep connection formed with this land – close enough to his home to claim it be – or the ancient roots of his existence, but he could feel something was wrong with the world around him, as if everything had suddenly shifted a slight tone in color, not enough to point it out but capable of deeply confusing and annoying one’s brain.

He took a quick flight over the starry sky but didn’t find anything particularly suspicious. It’s not like he expected to see a giant rainbow hippopotamus or a talking telebubby or anything equally ridiculous right away, but it would be certainly preferred over the dread of unknown Phil had felt then. Once his instincts got tired of murmuring about an invisible danger, they switched onto ‘flock’ and ‘protect’, and the avian was on his trip back home before the sun even rose above the horizon.

An inn in a small town was his first actual rest since then, and he didn’t need it as much as Chat did. The exhausted crows cling to his head, back and wings to the point where he probably looked like a giant flying ball of black fluff. And while that worked before, when he was much, much younger and he could count Chat on fingers of one hand, it certainly wasn’t as effective now that he had a hundred or two of loud and needy birds following him around. He couldn’t even take them inside the room – the owner wouldn’t be very happy about the scratches on the furniture – so they settled on a nearby tree instead.

Speaking of Chat: just a dozen of the most fast – or stubborn – crows that managed to dash inside when Phil had opened the window for the one carrying Wilbur’s letter, noticed the shift in mood almost instantly and sent him curious looks from all over the room. He didn’t notice one of them flapping over to his shoulder until their feathers brushed against his neck, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“We’re leaving, Chat,” Phil said in an answer to the not-very-silent (CAW CAW) question hanging in the air, dumping the stripped hat on his head and throwing the window open. Minutes later, a black-winged silhouette had leaped out of it and into the sky.

It was evening when Phil first started recognizing the specific areas of the giant forest that sprawled under him: the river boys loved splashing in when they were younger, the forest clearing they went collecting berries together at; several people snapped their heads up and waved when Phil flew just above the town’s roofs. He was well-known around the area, respected and appreciated much, too. Reputation he built himself over the years was enough to keep trouble out not only of his own home but the area around it as well, playing the role of a scarecrow of sorts, as ironically as it may sound.

It seemed like his reputation wasn’t enough this time, however. Phil landed softly on the forest floor in front of the house, and immediately felt the hollowness hanging in the air, stripping him off any hope that two – or at least one – of his sons is still inside of it. Windows empty of normal light or warmness seemed like eyes of a corpse, both dull and frozen in time. Phil tucked his wings neatly behind his back as he made his way over to the building and found the front door wide open, probably left like that by Wilbur when he ran in a hurry.

Now that he knew for a fact that both Tommy and Will weren’t here, he didn’t need to check the house anymore. It didn’t stop Phil’s Chat from scumbling in, crying out his sons’ names mixed with a repeated longing, ‘WHERE?’, ‘CHILD’, and ‘GONE.’

“We are going to get Tommy back,” Phil promised, and crows echoed, ‘WE WILL.’

They could start looking for any clues to hint the direction the kidnappers took the younger boy to, but the sun had already set, and to all advantages of being a crow night vision wasn’t one of them. Phil had no choice but to go inside and wait for the morning again, as much as it made his heart wrench.

Didn’t mean he needed to waste the night completely, though. First thing he did was light a lantern and grab paper and a quill to write a couple of important letters.

First one – for Wilbur.

While he technically was an adult capable of taking care of himself – and someone else while he is at it, too, like he was proving it for the last five years by looking after Tommy – Phil couldn’t help but feel the need to reassure himself WIlbur was safe and fine, especially if he managed to get on track of his brother’s kidnappers.

The second one – for Techno.

Phil didn’t know that much of what his eldest was doing these days, not because he was unwilling to, but because exchanging letters was significantly harder with the distance separating them. Techno never was one for empty chatter or long conversations; his words were short and meaningful, and that mirrored in his messages as well. Participated here and there, won this and that, an open question on how Phil’s doing and a more subtle one about his brothers – that basically summed up the whole contents of his letters.

Phil, on the other hand, filled in him with different details both on his own and Wilbur with Tommy’s lives. One would think Techno quickly forgot about these or skipped them entirely, but then he would ask for notes of Wilbur’s new song or to pass a photo from his newest tournament to Tommy and Phil just couldn’t help but imagine him carefully stacking up the letters and rereading them whenever he remembered his old home.

This letter, however, wouldn’t be as lighthearted as all his other ones. Even if Techno didn’t quite admit to belonging to this family anymore, Phil still thought he deserved to know what happened to Tommy. He added a copy of WIlbur’s own letter to it and the messages were ready to go, dozens of crows dissipating into the darkness of the night.

Chat was excellent at tracking people, if they knew a general direction to head to. With Techno it would be easier, as he always warned of his displacement beforehand, but with Wilbur, Phil had to play it safe and send multiple crows to scan for him around in the area he told he was heading to. After all, it been approximately three days since Will left and he couldn’t get too far away on his own two foot.

Tommy, on the other hand...

The description Wilbur provided in his letter didn’t ring any bells in Phil’s mind. He didn’t know any one-eyed avians nor raccoon hybrids; but anybody could be hiding behind the porcelain mask, so he didn’t dismiss the possibility he met the third man before. They could be mercenaries as well, hired by someone for the dirty job. But by whom and why, he didn’t know.

Phil went through all the probably reasons why Tommy could be kidnapped in the first place, but the more he thought of it, the less sense it made.

Ransom? Phil was stacked on expensive items and weapons, most stored in the house, yet they didn’t seem to take even a single golden ingot.

Revenge? Even more unlikely. Phil didn’t remember making any enemies for decades, and these he did... Well, they didn’t live long enough to try and get back at him.

Phil took out Wilbur’s letter again and hunched over it in a search for any new clues. Though his son gave details on the how the winged and masked men looked, such as the coloring of one’s feathers or a drawn picture of a simple sad expression, copy of the other’s face, it was the third male's appearance that Will had paid most close attention to.

‘He looked like Tommy, dad,’ WIlbur didn’t call him a father as often, and it seemed to have slipped involuntarily from how he tried to cross out the last word, ‘The trash panda had Tommy’s face but like if it was put through a paper shredder.’

Phil noted it for the latter date, though doubted the resemblance could be that heavy. WIlbur admitted he wasn’t sure if he didn’t hallucinate it, however, and it wouldn’t be surprising given he got slammed with a trident. Unusual weapon to carry around, Phil mused, hand reaching to clench the handle of his own sword. Trigger-happy part of his Chat instantly thundered with a dissonant ‘KILLZA KILLZA KILLZA’.

“Not yet,” Phil let the sword slid back into its sheath, eyes narrowing into thin lines, “Not yet.”

Chat seemed to catch the promise that was hidden in the words and went back into a semi-calm state. If anybody ever doubted birds had emotional capability for sadness or frustration, all they needed was to get one look over the hundreds of birds circling around Phil and trying to settle under his chin or wings for comfort.

Phil’s search started as soon as the first rays of sunlight hit the ground.

A tree bark mutilated by a trident, a broken compass – Phil clenched his fist when he recognized it as one of his older gifts to Tommy – laying in a bush, and a grey feather, too giant to belong to any of the local birds; everything directed towards the conclusion it was the place Wilbur had confronted the kidnappers at.

Three full days – that had to be exact time that passed since Tommy was taken – is enough for most evidence of a one’s presence in a forest to disappear completely. Old footprints get erased by new ones, if there had been any footprints to begin with, and there was no way a single person could scan through the woods and track down a group so small. Phil wasn’t alone, however. It only took a quick gesture and Chat scattered in all directions, air filling with rustle of their feathers.

Once they found the half-buried remains of a campfire, it became clear which direction Tommy was taken to. Phil didn’t waste another second to leap into the sky, followed by the dark cloud of Chat. They split again to search through the plains by the evening. Phil first sensed the incoming storm half an hour earlier than it came, but the heavy rain still had forced him and the crows to retreat under the cover of the trees. He could only hope that Tommy, whenever he was, was safe, and that the weather would slow down his kidnappers as much as it did him.

The next two days went by almost fruitlessly. Rain had washed away whatever tracks could be left of the group. Phil flew above the green fields so low he could almost touch the grass with the tips of his feathers and still didn’t find anything even distinctly useful. One good news was that the birds he sent after Wilbur had finally located him – in a direction completely different from where Tommy was taken – and Phil took a minute to scribble and send him a new letter.

Morning of the third day, a crow had woken up Phil. And while they did have a bad habit of poking at him in his sleep for no apparent reason (‘I’m not dead, Chat. Quit it or I’m putting you up for adoption’), this one had went beyond that and haphazardly slammed into his face. Phil jolted awake with mouthful of black feathers and a bird sheepishly blinking at him from where it leaned over his head.

Any irritation dissolved from his face as soon as it cawed, ‘TOMMY’.

***

Phil didn’t find the kidnapper, kidnapper found him, though judging by the expression on the face of other, it was completely unintentional.

Phil had landed near a river in a spruce forest to give his wings a quick rest. Just as he bended over to refill his flask with water, he caught a distinct rustle of something nearing him on the other side of the stream and retreated to hide behind a sprawling bush.

What he had at first assumed to be a wild animal had stepped out of the forest and revealed a tall avian with a pair of what had to be the world’s biggest yet messiest pair of wings, feathers bended and unaligned, matching both the one he had found near his house and Wilbur’s general description. Phil’s hands were on his bow immediately, slowly pulling on an arrow.

As much as he wanted to pierce it through the other man’s chest right now, he needed to make sure he wouldn’t harm an innocent person first. Long hair falling on the avian’s face and distance between them made it hard to see if the other missed an eye or not, so Phil stayed down as the stranger kneeled beside the river and pulled out several items out of the pockets of his pants: a roll of fresh bandages and cotton and a small bottle with a glowing pink liquid inside of it. As soon as he uncorked it, a candy-sweet scent had filled the air.

The avian reached for the back of his head and a strip of fabric dropped on his lap. He then took a hair tie from his wrist and grabbed his messy into a short ponytail, revealing a hollow socket where his right eye was supposed to be.

It couldn’t a coincidence anymore. Phil silently stood up, ready to let go of the bowstring and aiming for the avian’s leg. He wasn’t going for a kill yet, after all. Not until he knows where Tommy is.

One of the crows from Chat, who fell silent as soon as they saw Phil going into sneaky mode, flew from one branch to another. The avian snapped at the movement, hair falling back to his face. A single stormy-blue eye widened in recognition, and his gaze suddenly shifted down exactly to Phil’s hiding place.

And Phil released the arrow.

The avian dodged it last moment, yelping in poorly hidden horror. Grey wings fell flat against his back as he rolled on the ground and dashed for the forest. Phil lifted himself in the air and to the other side of the river, jerking after the avian.

Spruce forest closed the sky above them in a dark-green ceiling. That had to be the reason why the avian didn’t try to fly away yet – with his wingspan, he would slam into a tree the moment he got off the ground. Phil didn’t have such a problem, soaring up in a one powerful flap. Chat was quick to follow, chanting ‘KILLZA’ and ‘SNIPEZA’ above his head.

Another arrow left Phil’s quiver, aimed at the avian’s back. He jerked away, jumping over a fallen tree. Normally, people couldn’t avoid Phil’s single shot, let along two, but the trees made it hard to aim well, the avian dashing between them and using his surroundings to his full advantage.

Phil would’ve kept to the bow till he hit his target, both to challenge himself and to take his time to enjoy the hunt, the pumping of blood in his ears and the euphory of the final kill. But Tommy’s safety was at stake – so he quickly switched to a sword to put the end to the chase before the avian called for his allies.

He surged forward, cutting the distance between them and slamming into the prey. The avian threw himself over to the side, barely avoiding the sword going through his arm. Phil landed and swung again. The avian scrambled up and ducked under the sword.

Quick reflexes weren’t going to help him for too long, though. His chest rose and fell frantically and his eye, fixed on Phil’s weapon, got overridden by animalistic fear as opposed to his opponent’s cold and collected expression. The avian lunged forward in a desperate attempt to twist the sword out of Phil’s hand. Black-feathered wing threw him off his balance.

The avian didn’t even try to get up this time, shielding his head with his hands and curling up on himself. Phil’s boot slammed into his back and pressed, hard, pinning him down. The avian wriggled under the weight, managing to hiss curses even with lungs short of air.

In a midst of this, Phil absently noted how one of the avian’s wings beat and slammed against the ground, while the other spread but stayed mostly still at a slightly odd angle.

“Stay down, or I’m going to break your other wing.” Phil coldly commanded. The avian froze either out of fear, surprise, or a mix of both.

“How did you know?” he grunted in a raspy voice.

The tip of Phil’s sword moved to the wing’s base, forcing the owner to flinch and lower it to the ground. It became obvious it wasn’t the positioning of the wing that made it bend unnaturally but the curve of the bone, broken and healed improperly probably a good while ago.

“I would have even pitied you, if not the circumstances,” Phil said, “I bet you can’t even fly with them, Chicken.”

He gritted his teeth at the mocking insult, one often used for flightless avians regardless of if they actually had any relation to the said birds. Phil pressed his foot further and the avian, just about to say something, chocked on his own words.

A low growl made his head snap to the side, just in time to see a figure raising a netherite axe.

One glance at the stranger and Phil almost dropped his own weapon, brows slowly but steadily trying to escape his own forehead. The tall man in a red cape, face covered by a light blue scarf, shifted into an a heavily familiar battle stance he had observed hundreds of times before. If it wasn’t for the pair of white and gold ears perking up from the blond hair, Phil could have easily confused the person for Techno.

“Only I have the right to call him a Chicken,” the raccoon hybrid snarled.

Chapter Text

Theseus was a light sleeper; even the slightest rustle or a raised voice was enough to startle him awake. So, when something fell on the ground with a loud thud and muttered curses followed it, he jolted upright, axe already ready to crash the skull of whatever danger had crawled inside their camp.

Danger turned out to be very pissed of Thomas, sprawled on the ground under a tree, a half-broken branch hanging just above his head. His wings seemingly wrapped around him during the fall, taking the most damage, and avian winced from pain as he had to force them to uncurl and fold normally behind his back.
“You’re not actually a bird, you know,” Theseus voiced, letting himself relax again and propping up his chin, “Maybe sleep on the ground next time.”

Thomas snapped at him, “I wasn’t sleeping.” He rubbed his eyes with his fingers, dark bags visible for Theseus even from the distance, “I was guarding the camp.”

Yeah, and then you made a flip down the tree for fun. “Well, you’re doing terrible job at that,” Theseus yawned and absently nodded that it was, in fact, at least half an hour past dawn. "Besides, your shift is over already.”

“Lucid screwed up the order. He and Tommy stayed awake for half the night.”

Great. Exactly when he says they need to get going earlier, they pull out a midnight party. Tommy snorted peacefully on his cot, but the masked creep was nowhere to be seen, “And where is Lucid now?”

A gloved hand popped out of the tall grass just beside Thomas. The avian didn’t notice it, but Theseus’ heart skipped a bit, “There is a zombie-”

“That’s not a zombie, that’s Lucid.” Thomas huffed. Theseus tried to make, ‘Of course I knew that’ type of face, but the way tension was drawn out from his shoulders totally sold him out. And so, what? Can’t blame him for being too cautious.

“I bet he looks like one now, under the mask.” Theseus turned around to the hand, ignoring Thomas’ mocking grin, “Seriously, Lucid, do you sleep at all?”

Hand froze in the air thoughtfully. And then Lucid probably got tired of holding his arm upright because he dropped it and pushed up himself on his elbows. Half the mask popped out of the grass, like of a cat on a hunt, giving Theseus a hesitant shake-nod.

“I suppose that’s an ‘occasionally’,” Theseus ran a hand through his hair and signed. “Get a nap, both of you.”

Journey could wait for a couple more hours. Theseus really didn’t want to deal with Tommy’s whines – he had enough of that yesterday, when he replaced Thomas as the boy’s horse-riding trainer, his punishment for losing a bet to the avian.
“You can do whatever you want. I’ll be on duty until we leave.”
Thomas was still Theseus, or Tommy, or whatever – the point is, they were not so different after all, and he could easily translate the avian’s words into a simple, ‘I don’t trust you in the slightest.’
Ever since they found out Phil was close on their tail, the group went into a collective paranoia mode, (except for Tommy, who was decided to be kept unaware, for now), Thomas – worst of them three. So, when they created a new routine of guarding the camp at nights, the avian immediately developed a habit of trespassing Theseus’ shifts. Theseus was glad to receive a few hours of extra rest at first, but third day of sleep deprivation in a row took a toll on the avian - Thomas looked as if he got run over by a barrel.

Theseus didn’t particularly care. It was just the fact that the tiredly irritated avian lashed out on him twice as often now. He found himself watched, constantly; Thomas narrowed his eyes in suspicion like he expected Theseus to stab him in the back the moment he let his guard down.

And honestly? Theseus was seriously considering it. If Tommy and Lucid ever ask, he was sharpening his axe, and Thomas just happened to trip nearby. With his throat down. Ten times minimum.

“You have a problem with me?” Theseus snapped.

“Oh, no, only with your existence.” Thomas snarled back.

“Feeling is mutual, but you know what I meant. Stop tiptoeing around the problem and just spit it out already.”

Thomas straightened a bit from his usually hunched stance, and Theseus had to lift his chin slightly to meet the other’s stare. It annoyed him infinitely, the fact that Thomas loomed over him by few inches in height; his hindbrain forcing him to tense whenever they stood within an attack distance. This time the effect was tripled by the avian’s wings flaring up and bristling on either side of him - Theseus suppressed the urge to back away and bared his teeth with a growl vibrating in his throat.
It reminded him of the conflict they had over a week ago, the one quickly interrupted by Lucid when they started slipping details from the future in front of Tommy. An idea came to his mind – he frowned and asked, keeping his voice low, “It is about me being friends with Technoblade?”

By the look on Thomas’ face, he got it exactly right.

Theseus smirked, “And I thought we agreed not to pry into each other’s past.”

A very hypocritical suggestion on Thomas’ behalf, by the way. The avian got to stick his nose in Theseus’ timeline – which he constantly reminded of with his remarks - but not the other way around.

“I’m just making sure you won’t snitch on us,” Thomas grumped.
Paranoid idiot. “Of course, that would make perfect sense,” Theseus huffed sarcastically. “Seriously, did you leave your brain back in your timeline or something? If I wanted Tommy to stay with them, I wouldn’t help you in the first place.”

Thomas raised a brow, “But you considered it.”

Theseus’ lips simmered into a thin line. He did, in a way, just probably not like Thomas had assumed.

Theseus could never even think of Technoblade and Phil as enemies, his own or from the past alike. This Tommy wasn’t on good terms with either of them, however, and Theseus had no idea how to fix that. The only recipe he knew was years of thorny paths and wars with a pinch of unnecessarily dramatic betrayals, all under a sauce of concentrated trauma. He may have come up with a better plan if he had enough time, but they time-travelled into the exact same day Tommy left his home, and then Lucid interfered and they had to roll with all the mess that happened afterwards. Not perfect, but whatever got the boy away from the SMP and Wilbur worked with Theseus just fine.

Thinking of Tommy, however, was one thing, and planning his own future was a completely different one. They will get him to safety, eventually. Thomas seemed to accept a role of a babysitter from the day one and can handle him on his own, Lucid could stick with them, if he wanted – which the hybrid highly doubted – or go his own way. And Theseus, Theseus could become Techno’s friend, or a student, he didn’t really care as long as he got to be by his brother’s side again.

He let himself to imagine the familiar weight of Techno’s calloused hand on his shoulder and carefully sealed up gap in his chest started to fall apart. Theseus hurried to shove the feeling somewhere to the back of his mind and took a deep breath, slightly blurry vision focusing on Thomas’ face.
His hesitation was enough to make the avian to come to his own conclusions - he scrounged up his face in a triumphant scowl, “I can’t know you won’t ever change your mind, so I will keep an eye on you. Just in case.”

“And so will I.” Theseus crossed arms on his chest. “You know, I would have left a while ago, but I promised I’ll help because I don’t trust you not to screw up the things over.” He ignored the offended noise Thomas made. “Until then, try to make my life easier and keep your issues to yourself. Whatever grudge you have against your Technoblade and your Phil, it certainly has nothing to do with me.”

Theseus knew Thomas had run out of arguments when he snarled a classic simple, “You’re a wrongen and I’ll stab you.”

“I would want to see you try,” Theseus raised his voice, “Chicken.”

“Trash Panda.”

“Ostrich.”

“Dumpster rat.”

And then they started competing in profanatory vocabulary, raising their voices gradually from angry whispers to full-on shouts. Though Theseus didn’t realize it until the argument got interrupted by something hitting his temple. His hand reached up automatically, he turned to the direction the object had flew from and met eyes with Lucid who had his finger pressed against the ‘mouth’ of the mask, ‘Hush.’

His other finger pointed at Tommy, who turned over on his cot, slightly opening blue eyes taken over by fog of sleepiness, “Can’t you argue somewhere else? I am trying to sleep here.”
Theseus smirked, “Should have stayed silent for that. But since you’re already awake, we really need to be heading out now.”
If there was something both he and Thomas could agree on it was that they needed to get to the town as soon as possible. Temporary truce, Theseus reminded himself, and the same phrase was mirrored in the avian’s expression. They gave each other a last round of angry glances before Thomas tucked away his wings firmly, and snapped to face Lucid and threw a short, “I’ll be back soon.”

***

The most effective way to wake someone up is to yeet them out of the bed, as Theseus had found out.

Lucid watched Tommy scream and fly by with a clear interest so Theseus counted that as an upvote and gave his own method a five-star rating despite an iron bucket thrown directly in his face.
“If you want an apology, forget that.” Theseus said past the boy’s whines just as he finished saddling the horses.

Tommy made a face and a graphical gesture of what he thought of him. It raised a chuckle on Theseus’ lips, “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

“Because you’re a jerk.”

Tommy approached Henry and climbed into the saddle - his movements still somewhat awkward, but certainly better than days ago. Theseus held Henry still for him while he wasn’t looking and stepped away as soon as he settled confidently on the horse. The phrase ‘take it slowly’, however, didn’t exist in Tommy's vocabulary, so the next thing Theseus knew, he was trotting away with a confident, “Lucid! You’re up to a race?”

Lucid perked up at that noticeably, only to be cut off by Theseus’ firm voice, “No races. You’re going to fall and break something. And if not, I will snap your neck myself, for disobe-”
Theseus never got to finish the sentence - a thin strip of fur on the back of his head puffed up as his ears jumped straight up towards a series of loud noises piercing through the quiet rumble of the river. Theseus could clearly distinguish the cawing and flapping of the wings – a lot of them, interfering and overlapping with each other, but it was enough to set off an alarm in his head.

“Are you okay?” Tommy asked with genuine concern.

Theseus snapped out of his stillness as quickly as he fell into it. He forced a neutral expression on his face and said, “You know what? I give you a permission for a race. You and Lucid, for now, while I and Thomas catch up with you.” He turned to Lucid, “It’s your turn to entertain the child anyway.”

“Phil’s Chat.” Theseus mouthed in response to the other’s wordless question. “And if the Chat is here...”

Lucid silently reached for the trident on his back. Shoot. Theseus almost forgot how trigger-happy this guy could get. Whether Lucid could actually defeat Phil in a battle, he didn’t know, and he really didn’t want to risk finding out. Theseus caught the edge of the weapon and lowered it, whispering, “I’ll deal with it. You take Tommy and leave.”

One thing Theseus appreciated in Lucid, he didn’t argue with direct commands. Before he knew it, the masked man was already in the saddle and trotting past Tommy, gesturing the boy to follow him.

Two less problems to be worried about. As soon as Tommy and Lucid were far enough, he turned in opposite direction and sprinted for the river.

He wanted to think Phil’s Chat – he didn’t have a single doubt in the avian’s crow flock being the source of the noise – hadn't spotted Thomas yet and was freaking over a piece of gold or something as dump as that.

All his hope faltered when he caught distinct flashes of movement ahead of him. Here goes his chances to make amends with Phil. Thomas just had to stumble directly into him, hadn’t he?

The chase had already started. He wouldn’t be able to just grab Thomas and run for it like he initially hoped to. Theseus grit his teeth, keeping the axe close to his body and picking up the pace.

The distance between him and two winged figures – one on the ground and the other up above – was quickly shortened in half. The sight of a smooth black shadow twisting in the air was terrifyingly mesmerizing. The crow avian spread his wings, gaining height until he almost reached the treetops and froze there for a mere second, enough for Theseus to take in his so familiar yet so foreign figure.

Theseus halted in his tracks, ducking behind a particularly thick tree, odd nervousness flooding over his body. Sure, he knew was running into Phil, but it didn’t down on him until now he was actually running into Phil. It was strange to see him in his green and white robe again, after being so used the light blue and soft furs of their matching winter outfits. His gaze instinctively flickered to the avian’s hand, and even though he couldn’t see it from the distance, he knew he wouldn’t catch a glimpse of a green stone on his finger. The same flicker of an emerald on a simple trinket hanging from Theseus’ Axe of Peace. Theseus had to readjust the grip on his weapon as not to drop it directly on his own foot. Thomas’ reaction to Wilbur from over a week ago suddenly didn’t seem as ridiculous now.

A ray of sharp sunlight cut through the forest ceiling and flickered on the metal of the blade in Phil’s hand, catching Theseus’ attention. The crow slammed into the albatross and two avians merged into one tide of feathers and wings.

He knew he had to step in. Thomas avoided the sword cutting into his flesh, one swing after another, but he didn’t stand a chance against Phil in long-term. Theseus kept frozen, however, clinging to that tree, clawing at the bark yet not making a single step. Because that was Phil. His second mentor after Techno. His friend. A family, almost.

The fact that this Phil wasn’t Theseus’ Phil, but Tommy’s, did little to help his conflicting emotions. He stayed stone-still even as Thomas was pinned to the ground, Phil looming over him, saying something he couldn’t quite concentrate on listening to.
Thomas’ face flashed with a dreadful expression. Once Theseus’ eyes locked on it, he found himself unable to look away. For a mere moment, it seemed like split in half, black and white, with eyes both present, colored differently but wide with the same horror. Theseus met gazes with the face – and green and red shifted into identical brown, and suddenly it stared at him numbly with a pattern of nasty burn scars covering it from chin to forehead.

It took just a blink for the hallucination to disappear completely but the surging feeling of fire in his veins didn’t go away.
“I would have even pitied you, if not the circumstances,” Phil said, his voice piercing his hearing sharply, “I bet you can’t even fly with them, Chicken.”

In Phil’s voice, it sounded more like a threat than an insult and made the avian flinch even harder than before. Theseus could mock Thomas because that was fun. Watching the avian be scared for real, however, only succeeded in making him angry.
He suddenly became hyper-aware of how close the tip the sword was to Thomas’ unprotected back where it could easily slip past flesh and bones and directly into his lungs or heart. If Theseus had any doubts Phil could kill the avian, he certainly had none now.

Thomas was an idiot, at times – or more like always,
But he was also an idiot under Theseus’ protection.
Theseus pulled up his scarf to his face and raised his axe, scowling, “Only I have the right to call him a Chicken.”
Unlike Chat that fell into pure chaos of noises and frantic flaps, Phil quickly got ahold of his emotions, studying gaze taking in his new opponent’s entire stature, halting for a moment on Theseus’ armor - forged strictly for him, light pieces kept together by leather strips and secured around his chest and limbs comfortably.

He no doubt had noted the purple glow both on his his armor and his axe, dull end of the blade resting on his shoulder; that with the combination of Theseus’ slender figure and confident movements compelled the avian’s entire posture tighten, as if prepared to encounter an attack. Phil deemed him to be an opponent to be reckoned with and hell if didn’t it tackle Theseus’ ego.

A menacing spark lit in Phil’s eyes. He stepped away from where his foot squeezed Thomas’ chest only to grab him by the back of his sweater and yank him up just enough to press the sword against his neck. The avian’s wings flapped once and froze still again as did expression of his face in a poor attempt to hide his fear.

“Where is Tommy?” Phil asked in a low, cold tone. “I know you took him.”

Theseus lowered his weapon slowly as a signal for him to relax.
“Let’s negotiate, old man,” he said. “And I’m in a good mood today so I’ll trade you him for a single winged idiot - that’s almost free, you know. The one you’re holding at your sword’s point will do just fine.”

“Don’t you dare-” Thomas’ yelp of protest was quickly cut off by metal pressing into his skin. If it’s going to scar, he has no one to blame but himself. Theseus would signal Thomas a reassurance of sorts but he kind of busy trying to get him out of this situation alive.

“I need to see Tommy first.” Phil narrowed his eyes.

“Sure.” Theseus let the word slip past his lips easy, like a breath, “He is with our companion right now, very close to here. I’ll take you to our camp and then we can proceed to, let’s call it, the transaction.”

Theseus fulfilled his one good deed of the day. Not lying counts as a good deed, right?

Phil agreed to the suggestion albeit Theseus could bet entire Chat was screaming ‘sus’ at him right now. Phil himself? Thinking of the best way to kill them as soon as he gets Tommy back. If Theseus’ offer was real and he would really hand him over to save Thomas, “twins” would have been dead afterwards anyway. Phil did indeed take things close to heart when it came to his family.

It felt almost like back home, two of them walking in the forest, minus the small talk and plus a hostage. An aggressive one, too. Thomas thrusted in Phil’s hold harder the closer they got to the camp.

Right, he didn’t know Tommy and Lucid were already safe and out of the picture.

Empty camp greeted them with a dead campfire and two skeleton horses pacing around between the trees. Thomas looked like he wanted to sign in relief, and Theseus gave him a smirk – you really thought I would hand Tommy over so easily?
Their eyes meeting for a split second lit up with a wordless conversation: Theseus suggested, Thomas agreed.
Phil’s grip on his sword tightened, snapping at Theseus, “I don’t see Tommy here.”

“Open your eyes wider,” Thomas hissed.

He jerked his shoulder violently, shoving Phil’s hand with a sword away from his throat. It caused just a split delay Theseus needed to charge and throw a punch in man’s face.
The crow avian dodged his fist but his grip lessened, and Thomas slipped from it freely. Theseus grabbed him by his shoulder and hustled him out of the way of Phil’s swing, sword cutting air between them instead.

“Nah,” Theseus smirked, “It’s between you and me now, Phil.”
He didn’t intend to call the man by his name, but he wasn’t sure he noticed it. Visually he was only concentrated on Theseus and his raised axe. He kept it defensively in front of himself, prepared to block his opponent’s next blow. Phil didn’t go for attack immediately, stepping away to put a distance between them and pacing around slowly.

Theseus didn’t even need to think to understand he was trying to cut them off from the horses. Neither hybrid try to run anyway; not while there was a bow behind Phil’s back and a real chance to get a free arrow whilst trying to get in the saddle. The only option left was to fight their ways out of here. Or distract him for long enough for Thomas to make a run for it.

“Care to take on an opponent of your level?” Theseus snarled, showing off a dangerous glim of sharp canines.

Normally, a battle would start with opponents studying each other, following the other’s movements and waiting for a right moment to lunge. Theseus didn’t need to study Phil and didn’t hesitate to jump straight forward and dodge to his right when the blade was thrown against him.

Sword whistled as it flew close to his face – Theseus stepped out of its way easily. Phil kept pushing, every new lunge more rapid than the last one. Movements practiced thousand times over sunk into Theseus’ muscles and now guided him through the battle. Light on his steps and with reflexes taking over his movements he easily evaded and skewed every single of Phil’s attacks. The only time he let the sword into attack distance was when it almost ruptured the edge of his cape. Theseus twisted just enough for the tip of the weapon to brush his chestplate with a barely audible screech.

“Really?” Thomas exclaimed from somewhere behind.

“Netherite will manage, the fabric will not!”

Next thing he knew sword collided with his axe resulting in a defeaning clang in his ears. It must have offended the avian; how careless Theseus had sounded at that moment. He wasn’t relaxed, no, he was euphoric. The shift of weight of the axe in his hand, the pulse of blood in his ears and the cold calming state his mind slipped into – Theseus missed it, even though his brain refused to register this as a real battle and rather as another sparring session with Phil.

They couldn’t go on like this forever, though. Theseus knew his and Phil’s capabilities. The avian was superior to him both in experience and stamina and the major reason he held the upper hand right now was the surprise effect. Phil didn’t let down of his defenses for a second and Theseus wouldn’t be able to land a real hit without risking getting a sword to his guts in meantime.

“Someone seems too jumpy on their feet.” Phil noted. “Afraid of a real fight?”

“Afraid?” Theseus chuckled, but without much humor in his voice, “More like playing for time.”

Theseus stood in-between the horses and Phil now and Thomas flashed in the corner of his eyes, probably to untie them. Good.
Theseus didn’t have time to spare and look if Thomas was already in the saddle or not, but he didn’t hear hooves stomping the ground, “Get away from here, Chicken,” he threw.

“What about you?”

It probably looked like Theseus was about to self-sacrifice or something, when in reality he had just one more thing before he could run.

It must have mirrored in his eyes because he saw Thomas finally got on Mellohi and send the horse away into the forest.
Theseus’ next swing, seemingly aimed at the other’s head, changed directions with Theseus’s dash to the left. Phil wing sprang to slam the hybrid across his chest, spreading enough for him to see individual gaps between his primaries. Theseus’ front was open for a mere second while his weapon was raised and the avian didn’t skip his chance to use it. Burning pain slashed in Theseus’ side just as he brought down the shimmering purple of the axe.

Theseus backed away, weapon held defensively with one hand while the other reached to quickly examine the wound. Slash went right across the gap between armor pieces bared unprotected flesh - he felt warmth on his fingers. That definitely went deeper than he expected. Amazing. Theseus knew he shouldn’t have changed into a clean shirt yesterday.

First blood brought a triumphant smirk to Phil’s face. From the avian’s perspective, Theseus made a mistake, but really? He achieved exactly what he was aiming for.

“It looks like somebody’s grounded for a while.”

The implication made Phil raise a brow disbelievingly. He threw a quick glance at the ground and froze as he saw several giant black feathers laying in a messy pile. Theseus couldn’t help but feel guilty when the avian snapped his wing open and found his primaries slashed off at a sharp angle.

Chat, previously silent with occasional shuffle, exploded in a choir of ugly caws, chanting for Theseus' blood. Rightfully so, if he was being honest with himself. The only worse thing after clipping to happen to any avian would be the appendages being completely chopped off.

Phil’s face snapped at him with an expression that sent shivers ran down his spine, “You have no idea what you just did.”

“But I know exactly what I’m going to do now.”

That is being, running.

Theseus made a hundred eighty and bolted to the last remaining skeleton horse - Bones. He threw himself onto it, wincing when the wound in his side sent waves of sharp pain across his body.

Theseus realized, with a painful slowness, that Phil took out his bow and arrow and he wouldn’t miss from this distance.
He didn’t have time to get properly scared by that fact when Thomas’ and Mellohi rammed into Phil with a pterodactyl screech, seemingly out of nowhere. He dodged last moment but it still was enough to distract him from aiming at Theseus. Mellohi quickly caught up with Bones and two skeleton horses jumped off the spot without a command.

Chapter Text

Revivebook was supposed to bring Tommy back, and not suck in Dream into whatever place this was.

But then again, dead bodies were supposed to be... well, like objects and stay in one place and not dissolve into thin air. Apparently, Tommy couldn’t even die without making Dream’s life more difficult with it.

The harsh fall knocked out all the air out of his lungs, and first few seconds, he found himself laying on the ground and gasping for it like a beached fish. Purple and green shiny particles surrounding him just a moment ago were gone as was the strange portal-like thing he was thrown out of.

It worked differently both with Henry and Friend. It felt like Dream reached through a barrier of sorts, groped something and yanked it back to himself, and then the gap was closed again, with no consequences for him whatsoever. He didn’t expect it to be any different with humans but here he was, in a middle of an unknown forest, Tommy nowhere to be seen.

The question that started to haunt him immediately - how was he supposed to return now. The Revivebook wasn’t in his hands anymore, probably left dropped on the obsidian floor of the prison cell. Since Sam refused to see him at all he won’t notice the prisoner’s absence for a little while and neither will he figure out the way to bring him back. Even then, it took weeks for Dream to decrypt the texts and it certainly will take a lot more from anybody else who didn’t know the purpose of the book in the first place.

He wasn’t one to sit and wait until the answers come on their own, however. It wasn’t long until Dream pushed himself upright, leaning against a tree for support. Through a wave of nausea and blurriness in his vision, he was able to see that he wasn’t really in a forest but in a grove of oak and birch mixed that ended abruptly with a wooden wall.

The longer Dream stared at it, the more obvious it became that it wasn’t a wall and more like a group of buildings clinging close to each other, with glassed windows scattered on them. Trails of grey smoke rose above the treetops and the monotone of the ringing in his ears was broken by a series of loud dog barks. A town or a village, his brain automatically supported, but it didn’t explain how a town, of all things, could be here.

Dream headed straight towards the buildings, noting absently how fresh and thin the air was in comparison with the cramped space of the prison cell. It felt a lot cooler as well, without the layers and layers of lava constantly heating up the walls surrounding him. Dream didn’t even think of putting the prison jacket on – if he was stuck here (whenever that was) for a while, he might as well take his time to enjoy it – and let it hang down from where it was knotted around his waist.

Of course, the world had a lot more dead people than the four individuals Dream personally had known, but he still didn’t expect so many of them in one place. Walking casually around the streets, talking in upbeat voices and generally, act like any normal town people would. A group of young children ran past Dream, shouting, almost stumbling into him on their way. His gaze followed them until they disappeared behind a corner, and he couldn’t help but think that something was off. Too casual, he thought, and it was setting him off more than a dark void – that he totally expected to find himself in – would.

Perhaps Tommy could clear up things a little bit. Dream came for him, after all, and would need to find the boy either way.

Asking around was a method as good as any other, he decided.

First person he approached, a man behind the counter of a small bakery, watched Dream with his eyes narrowed slightly. It’s not like other people in the town looked ghostly or dead to him – quite the opposite, actually - but he still expected them to notice something, anything, different that would betray he didn’t belong in this place, yet there wasn’t anything but weak curiosity in the baker’s gaze.

“Anything I can help you with?” he asked.

“I am looking for someone,” Dream’s voice sounded raspy from the lack of use, so he had to pause to clear his throat, “An albatross avian, specifically.”

The baker shook his head, “The only avian that visited this town in years is Phil, and he has crow wings.”

Last time Dream checked, Phil was alive, so it had to be a weird coincidence. Another crow avian, named the same as the infamous legend, but dead - Dream couldn’t help but chuckle hoarsely, “Alright. No other avians around here, you sure?”

A nod was given as an answer, and he had to leave to question the next person. Dream’s following interactions went pretty much the same, with him asking around for Tommy and always receiving negative answers.

That was until he decided to enter one of the buildings – a tavern, as the sign supplied – and approached a middle-aged lady behind the counter with the same question.

“You’re the second person to ask me that today.” She said, supporting her chin with her fist.

Now that certainly caught Dream’s attention.

“Who’s the first one?” he asked.

The lady pointed towards the far corner of the tavern. Dream’s gaze followed the direction, and he froze as soon as he took in the figure of a man hunched over a small table with a drink in his hands.

Dream realized, to somewhat extent, that Wilbur would be somewhere around here, but he didn’t expect to find him so soon. The former president of L’manburg looked a lot different that Dream remembered - last time he met Wilbur, the real Wilbur and not the desaturated shadow of his existence, he seemed a lot older and a lot less sane. Though this man was not absent of a tired expression and a certain dangerous glint in his eyes, he lacked the shaking movements and abrupt glances Soot used to throw around himself, searching for something, listening to someone.

Wilbur wasn’t looking at Dream, seemingly lost deep in his thoughts. He reached to his own face to adjust the mask on it but felt his own skin instead – it must have fell off either in the cell or in the forest. Either way, it was too late to look for irhe mask now, so Dream forced confusion out of his face and approached the man, “Wilbur?”

He snapped his face up. Brown eyes were empty of shock or excitement or any strong emotion whatsoever. There was surprise, for sure, but not in the degree Dream was expecting for it to be.

“Have we met?” Wilbur asked.

Dream barely prevented himself from clicking his tongue. Wilbur had seen Dream’s face hundred times before, he barely even wore the mask between their first meeting and L’manburg’s war for Independence, so it couldn’t be the absence of it that confused him. He had to be like Ghostbur, then, amnesiac. Ghostbur didn’t forget Dream, however, while Wilbur was staring at him like he was a complete stranger.

“Really?” He raised a brow. “You don’t remember me at all?”

“Am I supposed to?” Wilbur snarled back.

Maybe he was. But it didn’t matter, for now, not until Dream decides to bring him back, “I guess you’re not,” he smirked. “To be honest, I am looking for your brother.”

“Then you’re looking in a wrong place.” Wilbur took a sip of the drink, gaze angry and sharp. “Techno haven’t been home for over a year now, so piss off already.”

Dream wasn’t sure what confused him more – the fact that WIlbur immediately thought of Techno and not Tommy, or the fact that he decided to call being dead ‘home’.

“It will be just a year in a month or so, you know.” He decided on telling instead.

Wilbur looked at him strangely, “Since what?”

“Since the November 16th, of course. Surely you remember at least that?”

“You’re the one who has to check your head, man. November? It’s spring now.”

Dream wasn’t sure on how time went for dead people, but he couldn’t help but think that something wasn’t right. The sinking feeling of suspiciousness he felt out in the streets pressed on him with a double force.

“Do you have a communicator on you?” he asked, frowning.

Wilbur raised a brow, “These things are rare here. Try asking the owner of the tavern.”

The lady had one, to Dream’s luck. He took and turned it on under Wilbur’s intense stare, gaze snapping for the corner with time and date glowing in white symbols. Dream almost dropped the communicator – today was dated around three and a half years earlier from now.

And then it clicked.

Wrong date. Too-casual people. The baker mentioning Phil as if he knew him personally.

Wilbur didn’t know Dream, not because he didn’t remember him but because they haven’t even met before.

It was crazy, but somehow, he had ended up in the past.

“You’re right. I am sorry, I must have hit my head on a rock or something.” Dream returned the communicator, and when he turned around, a smile slowly crawled it’s way on his face. “Let me introduce myself. I am Dream, Technoblade’s friend.”

Looking at Wilbur’s slowly relaxing expression, Dream couldn’t help but think – this changes everything.

Chapter Text

How much did Thomas know about Theseus?

Virtually, only two things. First one, he was a jerk, two, in his dimension, he chose Technoblade’s side during the Green Festival. Actually, he knew a little more than that, particularly about the raccoon hybrid’s apparent active participation in destroying L’manburg together with Techno, Phil and Dream, so it wasn’t a wonder that Thomas’ hatred for these three people automatically passed on Theseus’, too.

Everything about Theseus screamed so Technoblade that it made him feel sick. Clothes and armor he wore, the way he walked and talked, even how he eyed Thomas with a permanent expression of smudginess. Their mirroring appearances didn’t help it in the slightest, it was like Thomas’ face got glued onto Techno’s body and it was creepy . Lucid with his similarities to Dream didn’t get to Thomas as much because he couldn’t see the other’s face and acted overall drastically different from the masked man he knew.

(Thomas refused to acknowledge that there may have been other reasons why he kept lashing out on Theseus. So, if he recognized the emerald hanging on a trinket as the same one he stored away preciously in a secret chest, or if he felt phantom touch of fabric on his shoulders when he looked at the cape Theseus shook over so much, he wouldn’t admit to it to any living soul.)

In all honesty, Thomas expected Theseus and Lucid to leave him behind, so when the raccoon hybrid stepped in it was as much of a surprise to him as it was to Phil. He wouldn’t even believe it happened if it wasn’t for his own racing heart and a steadily increasing red stain on the Theseus’s side.

“You got stabbed.” Thomas said, raising his voice so it would be heard through the thundering of hooves as they galloped down the forest path.

Theseus raised a brow sarcastically, “I haven’t noticed.”

Raccoon thought he was being funny. Thomas slowed down Mellohi, and as if following its lead, Bones dropped its pace. The hybrids exchanged sharp looks.

“Phil is still after us.” Theseus said. “What is this for?”

“He won’t be able to follow as fast,” Thomas cut in. Theseus stiffened, eyes flashing with something similar to guilt. Thomas couldn’t care less – Phil had it coming,” And we need to dress your wound.”

“Sure.” Theseus nodded. “But only once we make sure Tommy and Lucid are alright.”

Thomas was surprised he said both names but didn’t let it show on his face. One more proof to how terribly he had misjudged Theseus. Theseus could care about people, obviously. It was just his care was less of open admittance and more of don’t let somebody die type.

Which led to the main topic of his thoughts of the past ten minutes.

None of versions of him in any dimension liked to linger with things, probably. Thomas was ought to get it over with before he cringed too hard and gave up on the idea altogether.

“Listen,” he took a deep breath, “About earlier.”

Theseus tilted his head. Thomas’ wings shuffled with discomfort as he braced himself for the question, “Why’d you save me?”

Either Theseus didn’t like something in Thomas’ words or his wound was bothering him more than he let to be seen, but the raccoon’s face scrounged up and he chuckled humorlessly, “Man, you do have a very low opinion on me if you think I’d leave you alone against Phil. Besides, what would I tell others, then? That you left to become a monk or something?”

Thomas took a note on how Theseus’ voice dropped before he shifted onto a joke, like he was genuinely upset with Thomas’ reaction. It wasn’t what the avian was going for at all.

“The thing is,” he paused, “I wanted to say, thank you. I just didn’t expect you to, you know? But I appreciate it.”

Theseus froze in the saddle, accidentally pulling onto reigns strong enough to make Bones slow down. He realized his mistake in time and let them loosen as he kicked the horse into previous pace.

“And I thought I wouldn’t hear a gratitude from you, damsel in distress.” He smirked.

It took all willpower in the world, a quick breathing exercise and probably an internal mental breakdown for Thomas not to punch him in the face at that moment. “…You are really making it difficult to make amends with you.”

Theseus smiled slyly. At that moment he looked more like a fox than a raccoon. “I don’t accept apologies unless they come with perks. A favor for a favor, you know?”

“You don’t need favors to ask me for something,” Thomas corrected, “But sure. What do you want?”

“I may need for this one.” Theseus sounded confident. Thomas lowered his chin. “A question. Maybe a bit personal one.”

And that was when Thomas paused to think.

This far he was hesitant about telling anything about his dimension to either Theseus or Lucid. The latter didn’t ask, the former may have asked too much. The only thing Thomas gave up hiding was the fact he was exiled, and it only happened because Theseus had tricked him.

“Reminds me a bit of Logstedshire,” the raccoon hybrid said.

“What are on about?” Thomas huffed as he bent to pick up a log, “This is all spruce, and Logstedshire only had oak and- “And then realization hit and he met eyes with smirking Theseus. “You- “

Next branch he found after was almost turned into a murder weapon.

“It depends.” He finally said. “Give it a try,”

“How did you die?”

It wasn’t technically dying and more of a last-moment rescue, but Thomas didn’t correct him. In their dimensions, they probably were considered dead, so it didn’t make much of a difference.

“I mean, I could guess you were beaten up to a pulp by your, you know, makeup,” Theseus was quick to add. Thomas elected to ignore the end addition. “I am more curious about by whom.”

There was a sharp sting on the right side of his face followed by a pulsating phantom throb. Theseus waited for an answer, and maybe Thomas considered him trustful enough to share the truth.

“Dream.” He said. “Not that big of a surprise, is it?”

Theseus’ eyes widened for a second, lips, contrastingly, simmering into a thin line. A look of disgust and anger crossed his face. “And he got away with it?”

Thomas let himself close his eye, obsidian cell vividly appearing in front of him. He wasn’t exactly around to see what happened after his “death”. Besides, what could Sam possibly do? Put Dream in double prison?

“It doesn’t matter,” he just said. “I’m here now, and this dimension is going to be different from mine.”

“Yeah,” Theseus echoed. “It has to be different.”

His voice sounded unusually quiet to his ears. Thomas’ eye fluttered open just in time to notice Theseus’ expression faltering and shoulders hunching almost high enough to reach his ears. Important note being that his ears were on top of his head.

“How did you die, Theseus?” Thomas didn’t expect himself to go so blunt about it, but he did, and words spoken couldn’t be reversed. Theseus glanced at him, a careful look of a wild animal peeking out of its den.

Thomas hummed, “It you tell you were actually yeeted off a cliff, I’m going to lose it.”

Faint hint of a smile flickered on Theseus’ lips. It came and was gone a moment later, a shadow taking over, a bitter, well-hidden look of sadness. In the silence followed, Thomas almost gave up waiting for an answer.

“A nuke.” Theseus said. “The Arctic commune got nuked.”

Thomas couldn’t place the feeling of something turning over in his guts. Not ‘I’, but ‘Arctic commune.’ It was said for a reason. Thomas’ instinct suppressed the sound of surprise and tightened his throat until his voice was barely above a whisper, “Were Phil and Techno...?”

Theseus’ silence told him it all.

Oh.

Oh.

“I’m a moron.” He croaked, gripping at the base of his hair. “I’m so, so sorry- “

Theseus listened to him struggling to put his regret into words for solid three seconds before abruptly cutting him off, “Stop that. You try to go sloppy with me and I will end you in the most painful way possible.”

Or, simply put, a longer way of saying, ‘I am fine.’

Which Theseus most definitely was not.

Thomas didn’t even have time to say anything, and Theseus’ face already scrounged up with irritation. “Don’t give me that look.” He snarled. “You look like your goldfish died or something and I don’t like it.”

“Theseus- “

“No.”

“You don’t want to talk about it?”

“Die.”

Thomas got the hint.

***

The morning after their wood carving lesson, Lucid slipped into his usual distant self. And if that previously unsettled Tommy and kept him somewhat careful in interacting with the man (note: Tommy’s definition of careful matched the extremely dangerous of other people), now, after he discovered how the other could be when relaxed or invested in something deeply, he couldn't fear him anymore. Lucid seemed obscure just because he was... Extremely shy? Purposefully grim? Tommy couldn’t really tell.

It was strange that Theseus went so easy with the suggestion of a race immediately after dismissing it. It felt suspiciously like he was trying to send him and Lucid away. Why? Tommy stuffed the question away for now. He would have all the time in the world to interrogate the life out of Theseus later.

Tommy sent Henry into a steady pace as soon as the horse stepped onto the road. Dusty but well-trodden, it was a relief after the lumpy forest floor, and they were able to gain speed rather easily. He thought he got well with horse-riding in the past days, but clearly not enough to race with Lucid on equal terms. Tommy almost fell out of the saddle when his companion suddenly appeared to the right of him. The skeleton horse seemed like it didn’t touch the ground at all, light in its gait and thundering past Henry without much effort. 

“Hey! You scared me!” Tommy yelled.

At the same time, he tried to nudge Henry into gallop. No way he was giving up that easily.

Henry bended her neck to look at Tommy, in a disapproving, as he recognized it, way.

“I am doing great,” Tommy reassured her, and then, stubbornly added, “Come on!”

The horse snorted and complied, picking up speed gradually. Muscles flexed under her skin - Henry huffed from effort, and Tommy found himself tensing, too, body clumsily readjusting to the horse’s pace. He galloped before, briefly, under Thomas’ supervision, and he knew he was doing alright when same muscles as before starting throbbing dully.

Pain soon faded away as the world around him distorted into faint strokes of paint. The only thing Tommy could see was the road ahead, dust raising into the air under the skeleton horse’s hooves and Lucid’s back with the trident attached to it.

He noticed, however, when the spruce trees shifted into lower bushes and thickets. Tommy’s own eyes lit up to match the brilliant blue of the sky opening above. The road exited the forest and stumbled into a field, a wide ribbon in the middle of ocean of flowers. Red poppies, yellow dandelions, tulips, lilacs, cornflowers… Tommy flew past them before he could recognize all the plants, yet they flashed before his eyes long after in all colors of the rainbow.

The euphoria coursed through his body in hot waves. Tommy didn’t know how to express it other than in a loud yell, screaming until all air was out of his lungs, leaving him heaver with a grin stretched to half his face. Lucid turned around in the saddle, caught his shining gaze and kicked his horse to speed up. Tommy saw a challenge in that movement.

“I am coming for you!” he shouted.

In a last powerful effort, they finally caught up with Lucid, horses galloping side by side as their riders exchanged glances. Tommy shouted past the whistling of the wind around them, “Missed me?” 

He broke into uncontrollable laughter when Lucid saluted him with one hand. Just as Tommy tried to answer with the same gesture, he got slanged to his left violently. Reigns slid from his hands faster than he could grip them and he felt his heart drop to his stomach. Colors flashed before his eyes and Tommy, in a split moment, found himself floating in the air weightlessly.

I got launched into space. He barely managed to finish the thought when a pain flared in his leg and hip together with a loud thud. It all happened so fast that the only thing Tommy could comprehend at first was confusion and pounding of his heart against his ribs. It was only when Henry came into vision, nostrils flaring up, that Tommy realized he fell on the ground and was staring into the sky absently like an idiot, red petals of poppies floating in his vision.

Maybe he was meant to be scared, but, first, Tommy never got scared, two, he was still too high on euphoria to sense anything but pumping of hot blood in his veins. He felt like he could jump back up, sprint through the whole forest in a minute and climb up a few mountains of his way.

“That was amazing.” Tommy announced, grabbing Henry’s head and wrapping his arms around it. He bumped his forehead against hers, laughing when the horse’s dark eyes scrounged up in accusation. If horses could talk, this probably would say something like, ‘I told you would fall.’

“I am great. I never felt greater in my whole life,” he reassured. Henry bumped him with her head, hard enough to make him lower himself onto his back. She snorted into his face. Tommy chuckled, nuzzling her away, and once she retreated, he saw Lucid jumping down from his own horse and approaching the boy.

“I won.” Tommy announced, propping up himself on his elbows. 

Lucid tilted his head.

“I did.” Tommy insisted. 

Lucid made a small movement, as if he was rolling his eyes – except he was rolling his head – in a clear display of disagreement.

“You’re competitive, aren’t you?” Tommy grumped. “Can’t admit my rightful victory.” 

Lucid ignored him and reached for his notebook instead, ‘Are you hurt?’

Tommy blinked, “I don’t know.” He tried to move his limbs one by one, and his left leg responded with newfound pain. Annoying, but not strong enough to bring any serious concerns. He figured it would bruise in a few hours, but other than that, the dense green thickets had softened his fall enough to prevent him from anything major like broken bones. “I think I’m good,” he said.

Lucid took out his trident, gripped it around the top, just under where handle separated into three prongs, and offered the far end to Tommy. Hand would be easier, but he didn’t seem much fan of physical contact – even through the gloves – so he took what he got.

Lucid made a fatal mistake of not noticing a sly smile that crawled its way on Tommy’s face. Just as he was about to jolt the jolt him upright, Tommy pulled the trident to himself with all force he could muster. Lucid lost his balance and fell forward, swinging his arms, instantly buried under soft grass and flowers.

Tommy burst laughing when Lucid scrambled himself up, colorful petals tangled in his hair. He was quick to shook them off, staring at the boy intensely. He stilled when he saw Tommy grinning at him, shaking his trident in the air.

“Hey, I’ve got your fork. Now you’ll have to fight me to get it.”

Lucid straightened. Saw right through the provocation. Raised the notebook.

‘Seriously?’

“Yes, I am being completely serious.” Tommy said. “Or are you scared to get beaten up by me?”

Tommy attempted to twist the trident in the air, how he often saw Lucid do. The weapon did a graceful curve in the air and as gracefully slammed into his own temple. Tommy yelped, cursing and rubbing the spot of the hit angrily. Stupid fork. Lucid’s trident was as broken as was his knife.

He spared a glance at Lucid and found the man hunched strangely. His shoulders shook in silence, up and down, and he wrapped his arms around his stomach. It took Tommy a long moment to realize, “Are you laughing? Are you laughing at a badly injured, concussed man, hm?”

Is this how Tommy commits his first second degree murder? By making a person laugh to his death? Lucid shook even more intensely. Tommy suspected he would run out of air very soon. Yet at the same time, this had to be the most relaxed he had ever seen Lucid be, so it was considered a deal worth the effort.

Still, would he allow himself to be humiliated like this? Absolutely not. Tommy threw the trident away carelessly and thrusted at Lucid, “Suprise attack!”

Uh. Maybe that wasn’t a good idea after all. Lucid snapped suddenly and before he could even yelp, he was tackled to the ground, all air kicked out of him at once. So, if that’s what being Thomas felt like - it sucked, really. Lucid kept holding Tommy on the ground with one hand, pinned by his shoulder, and the boy struggled against it uselessly.

“If you’re waiting for a formal declaration of surrender, quit it.” He grumped.

Lucid tilted his head.

“I don’t read your mind. Elaborate in written form.”

Lucid rolled his head again. It looked more like he had a stroke, really, but Tommy probably wouldn’t notice the movement the other way. To his great relief, Lucid finally let him go, dropping on the ground cross-legged. Tommy felt himself watched even as the other man took a moment to scribble something on paper.

It was awkward, waiting for him to finish. Lucid’s handwriting was quick and rushed, too, sometimes hard to make out of, probably as to compensate the speed. Instinctually, Tommy knew it had to be a touchy topic, but respecting people’s boundaries was outside the gigantic list of his positive treats.

“Does it ever get annoying?” He asked. Lucid raised his head at him, so Tommy gestured at the notebook, “Having to communicate by writing?”

Lucid paused for a moment, torn out the page he was previously writing at and started anew.

'It hate it.’

Now that was a straightforward answer. Lucid didn’t follow it up with any additional gesture or movement, just... staring at him.

Tommy remembered what Thomas told him the other day about neither of them knowing the sign language. Techno’s room had always been full of books, written in all dialects spread around the world. They weren’t even proper dictionaries, just random collection of literature he used to teach himself with. Tommy wasn’t happy with his brother not paying his undivided attention to him, and Techno’s self-lessons would end up with the older boy chasing furiously after the younger as he screamed around the house and threw the books in the other’s face.

“Ever tried to learn sign language?” Tommy asked.

Lucid shrugged.

“Come on, you know at least the ‘sorry’. I saw it, you know, like this,” Tommy clenched his hand into fist and made a circular movement, but it looked vaguer as if he was trying to stab himself or open a portal to another dimension. Lucid repeated the gesture with practiced accuracy, and the boy nodded, “Yeah, that one. Surely you know more signs than that?”

Lucid clenched and opened his fingers, holding his hands in front of him. Tommy almost thought he angered him somehow before realizing the other was showing numbers. Lucid repeated the gesture again.

“A dozen?” Tommy tried.

A nod. Tommy got better and better at charades with every hour spent with Lucid.

“Well, that’s not enough to support a political debate. Or to talk about women.” Lucid signed deeply at that, Tommy answering him with a grin, “But it’s a start. Now, show me them all.”

Lucid stared. Tommy scratched the back of his head. “Uh, you alright?”

The other stayed unresponsive. Oh no. He broke Lucid. Was there some sort of secret self-destruction protocol he had activated on accident? Tommy awkwardly shoved Lucid by his shoulder, and only then the stiffness drained out of the man’s posture.

‘You want to learn the signs?’

“Yeah,” Tommy shrugged casually. “I want someone to talk with me when Thomas and Theseus are busy with barking at each other.”

***

Words in Lucid’s vocabulary were as simple as expected. Tommy quickly picked up on yes, no, sorry, thank you, but the gesture that came after didn’t get to him so easily.

“Slow down,” he groaned loudly. “What was that again?”

Lucid raised his hand as if he was going to salute and tapped twice on his forehead. He waited until Tommy repeated the gesture twice before going for the notebook, ‘Danger.’

It was a strange contrast to simpler words Lucid showed him before. He got most confused, however, when his companion showed him the signs for ‘escape’, ‘main’, ‘cell’, and ' help’.

“Blink twice if you’re being held a hostage.” Tommy joked.

Lucid was not impressed.

“Have you ever escaped a prison, then?”

‘Thank you.’

“Did you help somebody escape a prison?”

‘Thank you.’

“Do you have any relation to prisons at all?”

‘Thank you.’

That had to be a lie. Tommy had no other idea why would Lucid know a sign for cell, of all things. It was clear, however, that he wasn’t going to give get a real answer, as his companion kept aggressively signing ‘thank you’.

“I think you meant to replace ‘thank’ with another word, perhaps starting with an F?”

‘Yes.’

“Well, then ‘thank you’ back and ‘thank you’ your stupid secrecy.” Tommy deadpanned.

Henry, previously idly munching on grass beside them, suddenly raised her head and tilted her ears towards the same direction he was looking at.

“You hear something, buddy?” He stood up and gently stroked Henry’s mane.

Tommy instinctively stepped back when Lucid straightened silently pulled out his weapon. He snapped at Tommy, free hand raised and shifting into a familiar sign, ‘Danger.’

Tommy perked up, “Wait, really?”

Instead of an answer, he got shoved, rather rudely, into the tall grass. Tommy jumped back away only to suddenly find Lucid appear in front of him to put both hands on his shoulders and stare into his eyes insistently.

“Hiding?” Tommy snapped. “I am not a coward. And it's probably Theseus and Thomas, and you’re just overreacting.”

Against his protests, he was forced down until entirety of him was seated behind the dense thickets. Tommy continued to grant and complain to himself and Lucid gestured at him, ‘Silence.’

Okay, maybe these signs were not that strange after all.

Noises grew loud enough for Tommy and Lucid to hear, rhythmic thud of hoofs hitting the ground. The masked main froze ducked under a big rock, weapon drawn, while the boy coughed quietly in boredom. He peeked out of the bushes just enough to spot flash of white and red ahead of them. Soon enough, two riders trotted out of the forest, speeding up when they spotted Henry and other horses nearby.

“Told you.” Tommy snarled at Lucid as both left their hiding spots.

Lucid answered with a sharp movement, ‘Thank you’. Salty now, huh?

Only when Lucid crossed arms on his chest Tommy’s attention shifted towards the other two men, “What took you so long?” He huffed.

The avian stared at him back with a look of clear relief, but his wings stayed flared and twitching. Tommy had seen it with Phil, when the man was nervous with something – it never had been a good sign. He followed Thomas’ glance at Theseus, the hybrid trying to hide a wince as he shifted on his saddle, hunching oddly above his horse’s neck.

Tommy’s expression faltered, “What happened?”

“Theseus is hurt.”

Now that was a look of betrayal, if Tommy had ever seen one. Theseus viewed Thomas from under a deep discontented expression of broken trust. “I’m fine. It’s just a small cut.” He grunted.

“You have a hole in your side size of my arm.”

“A normal-sized cut?” Theseus tried.

“We’re not going anywhere until I patch up your wound.” Thomas jumped off the saddle.

“I can do it myself.”

“Theseus.” Thomas snarled, wings snapping open, not in a threatening, but in a warning way. The raccoon hybrid’s ears fell flat, he visibly holding down his next remark. A few years ago, Tommy had accidentally fell into the river. It was shallow enough for him not to drown, but he cut his leg on a sharp rock. Tommy didn’t want Will to fuss over him and managed to hide it from his family for grand total of two hours. He was doomed the moment Techno noticed him limping, and the tone he scolded him with was eerily like the one Thomas had used on Theseus. Tommy could only send the raccoon hybrid a look of sympathy as the avian broke the eye contact and rummaged through his saddlebag.

“Is it that bad?” Tommy asked.

Theseus slowly slipped down from the horse, one hand reaching to undo the straps of his chestplate. Armor fell on the ground with a thud. When did he change into a new shirt? Tommy clearly remembered it wasn’t a red one and... Oh. “Nevermind.” He spoke. ” You look like crap.”

He jumped to help Theseus and lean him against the rock Lucid had previously hid behind. The hybrid didn’t shove him away, but hummed quietly, “I am fine.” He then lifted his shirt, fast, as if peeling off a bandage. Light wince turned into a surprised frown. “Or maybe not.”

Tommy nodded absently at the latter one. Thomas passed him, hands full of things, but stopped mid-way, blinking like he forgot of the boy’s presence altogether. His confusion quickly turned into concern. “Tommy, don’t look.”

Thomas settled on the ground in front of Theseus. Tommy snorted and flopped beside him anyways, “Don’t worry, I’m not afraid of blood.”

He had seen Techno with worser wounds, probably. He didn’t feel sick or nauseous, but there was a strange feeling wrenching his chest. Theseus groaned quietly as Thomas touched his wound with a wet rag, Tommy's own hand reaching to touch the hybrid’s elbow reassuringly. The hybrid blinked at him, surprised, but didn’t move his limb away.

“Does It hurt?” Tommy asked.

“I had much worse,” Theseus answered without a stutter, “It just itches a lot.”

Tommy felt himself watched, and when he turned around, he was met with the avian’s careful gaze. Thomas breathed out from where he bit his lip, “Fine, you can stay,” he eventually said. “You’re going to be his emotional support. Maybe try distracting him while I work.”

“Can do.”

“Please no.” Theseus shook his head. “He is going to kill me with his talking only.”

“Oh, you want Lucid to be your emotional support?” Tommy chirped.

Theseus glanced at Lucid. His hands were busy with gesturing, ‘No’ and ‘Thank you’quickly switching between each other. To Tommy, it made sense, but for Theseus it probably looked like he was threatening to chop off his head.

Was Tommy going to correct him? No, because the way Theseus’ eyes widened was just too funny to miss on, “On the second thought, Tommy is fine.”

“As I thought.”

Thomas leaned forward to get a better look at the wound. Tommy didn’t have an urge to observe the process too deeply, more concentrated on expressions changing on Theseus’ face, from a fairly neutral discontent – his default mood – to utter horror when the rag in avian’s head was swapped for a needle.

“Wait a minute,” Theseus frowned. “I didn’t sign up for this.”

Thomas raised a brow, “You don’t trust me with a needle?”

“I wouldn’t trust you with a spoon.”

“You’re not afraid, are you?” Tommy elbowed him lightly, a cheesing grin on his lips. Theseus glanced at him briefly and snarled, “Of course not.”

Tommy pretended not to notice when the hybrid almost jumped a foot into the air as the needle first touched his skin. Tommy knew a few ways of bandaging, he had to patch up Wilbur a few times after particularly unlucky mob encounters, but neither of them ever got cuts deep enough to require stitching. Thomas had a concentrated expression on his face, yet his hands worked faster than Tommy could pick up individual movements.

“So, what happened to you two?” Tommy asked. “And by that, I mean how did you manage to get stabbed in the middle of a forest?”

Thomas froze, and Theseus’ wince fell.

“Um, we were attacked.” Yeah, Tommy could tell that much.

“By whom?”

“It was a zombie.” Thomas said it at the same time as Theseus replied, “A crowd of muggers.”

The hybrids exchanged tensed looks.

“Zombi-”

“Muggers. Yes, zombie muggers.” Thomas was quick to cut in. “Crazy stuff, huh?”

It was the dumbest thing Tommy had ever heard in his life.

Chapter Text

Theseus and Thomas were terrible at lying. They were terrible at everything, apparently, but especially at lying. The only reason they didn’t get exposed yet was probably naiveness and trustiness on Tommy’s part and a huge chunk of random luck. Luck runs out, however, and after the fiasco of explaining Theseus’ wound it seemed like the boy would eventually start coming to certain conclusions.

They couldn’t tell the truth, that Lucid knew for sure. Oh, you see, no matter what happens, you die in three years at best, so we are here to kind of fix that. Best case, Tommy will think they are crazy, worst case, he gets horrified for the rest of his life.

So, no. Lucid had no other choice but to help Theseus and Thomas to support their otherwise very, very weak cover.

They took off as soon as Theseus was patched up and didn’t make a single break since then. The avian led their procession this time, the raccoon hybrid close on his right, two of them occasionally arguing with each other over which path was shorter or if they were supposed to pass this creek. Lucid zoned out of most it but listened to Tommy as they rode side by side together.

Time after time, the boy asked questions and looked at Lucid, head tilted, and kept silent until he gave his response, and grinned wildly when he did so. Lucid’s gestures were abrupt, often belated, and it constantly seemed like any moment Tommy would get tired of him and find something more interesting to do. Maybe it was the boy’s switching attention, his voice constantly jumping between laughter and bubbling rant, but Lucid found the clench of awkwardness steadily loosening its grip.

“Congratulations,” Theseus had said to him at some point, “You got adopted by an extrovert.”

When Lucid signed ‘thank you’ at Theseus, only Tommy knew the real meaning behind it. At the raccoon hybrid’s confused face both doubled over with laughter, one loud and the other short and ashy.

“That’s should be enough for us to communicate around the prison, but I could teach you more, if you want.”

Dream said bare minimum. Tommy stands up to leave.

“Wait.”

Tommy stops. Sam puts one hand with thumbs up rests on an open palm of the other. “’Help’,” he says. "If you ever need me for anything...”

Sam’s glance slides down to Tommy’s wrist, where a purple stain stands out on pale skin. He looks at it, for a long moment, and tugs at the sleeve to hide it.

“Lucid?” Tommy asked quietly.

Lucid found himself staring into the boy’s eyes, blinking rapidly as the memory faded away. The tightness in his chest stayed, though, constant wrenching feeling that made him want to howl his throat out.

‘Yes?’

“You alright?” Tommy’s brows pinched slightly. “You zoned out there for a second.”

Lucid’s hands twitched, almost signing a ‘no’, but he caught himself in time and nodded instead. Tommy hummed. The side-look he had given him was nothing if not doubtful.

“If you say so, big man.”

Tommy yawned, eyelids half-closed, threatening to fall at any moment. Which is the last thing you want to happen when riding a horse.

Lucid reached for his saddlebag, pulled out a coil of rope and passed it to Tommy. Upon his confused ‘what?’ he made a motion of wrapping it around his waist and binding it to the saddle. The boy’s eyes lit with understanding. That’s how, ten minutes later, Lucid ended up riding one horse and leading the other with sleeping Tommy on it.

Twilight downed on the world. Lucid found it harder to breathe as the sweet flower scent of the air faded in favor of crispy ocean breeze, rough as sandpaper in his lungs. He watched the flickering lights of the town with increasing tension; stone and brick buildings arose in sharp silhouettes, a contrast to soft shadows of nature he got so used to in the past one and a half week.

“Finally,” he heard Theseus grunt ahead of him.

Monotone, wide form surrounding the town that Lucid first assumed to be a bunch of buildings clinging to each other fiercely, upon a closer look, turned out to be a tall wall cutting it off from the field. It wasn’t a heavy defense, by any means, for the lack of towers and fortifications, but designed to keep mobs and unwanted visitors away. One of the gates stared straight at them with sternness of iron bars. A lantern shone with a bubble of light above it, enough to make out of two silhouettes on the other side, without any doubt, guards.

“They have no reason not to let us in,” Thomas mused in a low voice, stopping Mellohi at the thin line of trees, the only cover between them and wide-open area hundreds of feet from the gate. “I mean, Phil’s far behind, there is no way anybody is already looking for us.”

Thomas had filled Lucid with the details of what happened during their encounter with Phil, and he would argue that ‘far’ was a real stretch. Two days, at the very most, considering both walking speed against their horses’ trot and nighttime mobs possibly slowing him down.

“I say we go for it,” Theseus nodded, “and in case something does happen, I will cover your backs until you made it through.”

Okay, no.

Lucid jumped off the horse, silently, not to wake up Tommy; Thomas saw him approaching from the corner of his eye and turned around by the time Lucid took out the notebook.

‘There will be questions.’

“About?”

Lucid pointed at the skeleton horses.

Then at Theseus’ armor and axe.

Then at his own trident.

Then at the axe.

And then...

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Thomas raised his hands in the air. “We could hide the weapons. And the horses, how about we say that they are... Our service animals?”

“Undead animal that doesn’t even fit through the doorframe,” Thomas smirked, “Completely believable.”

The two hybrids were too involved in the conversation to notice Lucid pulling up his hood.

There were probably better and easier ways to go about this, but Lucid rooted for fast thinking and impulsive decisions and not for throughout tactical discussions. If the problem was guards questioning their group, then the logical decision for him would be to get rid of the guards.

Besides, for one, Lucid wouldn’t trust the "twins” with cover stories ever again, for two, Theseus’ wound was partially his fault. If Lucid had insisted on going with him, he never would have got attacked in the first place. So, while the hybrids busy talking, he slipped away into the tall grass.

Lucid sneaking in the darkness with air around him thin and full of small noises, from the song of the crickets to whistle of the wind, it all reminded him of the missions Dream had sent him on. He almost failed the first one, all because he wasn’t quiet enough, and the fox spotted him before he could pull out the syringe. It tried to run away, squeaking and pulling on its lead desperately, and Lucid shook with both relief and guilt when it finally fell limp in his hands.

He got gradually better, snatching objects and pets from under their owner’s noses, nobody realizing them missing until they were already securely locked in Dream’s Vault. This time, however, he could use these skills for something other than stealing people’s possessions. Lucid reached the wall and climbed over it without alarming the guards.

There were two of them, one middle-aged, stout and dressed in poorly fit iron armor drowsing off with his back leaned against the wall, and the other a young man just few years older than Lucid, absent gaze scanning the empty town streets, a diamond sword resting on his hip.

The trident whistled as it flew by and crashed into a lantern hanging above the gates. Shards of glass rained on them from above, few clattering against his mask when he launched himself in the air. Lucid caught his trident mid-flight, twisted it, dull end facing forward as it slammed into the older guard and launched him into the wall.

Diamond flickered in the corner of his vision. Lucid dodged, trident clashing with a sword. His opponent let out a surprised yelp and yanked the blade, both weapons flying out of their hands and clattering loudly as they fell on the stone-bricked ground.

Tommy breathes hard. His lungs sting and burn, and his blood is boiling lava. On the opposite side of the obsidian room, Dream swipes sweat from his forehead, “Not bad.” He smirks, “I trained you well.”

Tommy straightens against the pain in his muscles. Dream can’t see him scowling, but he oh so well knows the furious fall of his chin.

Dream laughs, “Let’s see how long you are going to last.”

Lucid picked up his weapon and lunged.

They found Lucid at the gates few minutes later, frantically twisting the trident in his hands.

It was fine. The guards were fine, he didn’t kill anybody, just knocked them out and dragged them into the closest alley.

Tommy, still sleepy and confused, didn’t notice his hands shaking, but the hybrids weren’t so oblivious. Thomas tried to approach; Theseus stopped him mid-way, seamlessly grabbing by his elbow, “Cool, we found the Walmart owl,” he deadpanned. “Now, let’s move, unless you want to stay for the night in a dumpster.”

“I would prefer a bed, thank you very much,” Tommy mumbled, yawning.

Thomas nodded, grabbing Henry and Mellohi by the bridles, and led them down the empty street, leaving Theseus and Lucid to stand in the silence.

This was it; this was where questions were going to start.

Lucid tensed, prepared to bolt, but Theseus just looked at him lazily and turned away to his own horse.

Theseus wasn’t going to question him?

Lucid shifted from one foot to another awkwardly. Theseus shot him a look. There was a silent understanding in his eyes Lucid couldn’t quite place the reason for.

“You’re out of it, now?” he asked.

There was persistent buzzing in the back of Lucid’s head, and the air couldn’t fill his lungs fully, whistling somewhere in his throat, but confusion washed over all the other sensations. He tilted his head.

“Look,” Theseus said casually, “you’re obviously not having a great time. Let’s just move on, but the next time you’re going to have fun, don’t forget to bring me along.”

The floorboards croaked on each step and the furniture had seen better times, but as soon as they entered the inn Lucid knew he didn't want to leave. It was one of these places, old but atmospheric, with a strong smell of freshly sawn wood and cooked potatoes pinching at his nose and fireplace dimly lighting the first floor in silky orange waves.

There was a problem, however, and it was that they could only spare money for a two-person room, and the owner apologetically said they couldn't allow more people in than it was intended for.

It was fine, of course. Theseus and Thomas had to decide whom would stay with Tommy, and as they discussed it in loud whispers, Lucid turned to leave.

Thomas caught with him outside the inn, just in front of the entrance, "Where are you going?"

Lucid shrugged. He wasn't particularly picky, even a box under a bridge would do. That was a joke, of course. Why sleep under a bridge when you can do it on a roof?

"We're not leaving." Oh? "Let's say we're going to use the back door."

They waited for another five minutes when one of the windows on the third floor opened and an arm waved at them invitingly.

Lucid looked at Thomas, is this what I think it is?

"They say it's a window, I say it's an alternative entrance." Thomas grinned.

Turned out, he was too quick to rejoice. Lucid slipped into the room like a shadow, and Thomas followed sue. When he bent over the windowsill, pushing in his folded wings, they squeezed half the way through and refused to go any further.

Lucid contemplated all his life choices while the avian, with an expression of utter suffering, said, "I'm stuck."

The only adequate adult in their group was now trapped in the window frame and the next in line for that role was actively dying from laughter. Tommy tried to pull Thomas in, but the boy clearly lacked the required physical strength.

"Theseus, quit being a jerk and help," Thomas whined.

Theseus took a deep breath, face color of beetroot. "I am trying," his eyes fell on Thomas again and he doubled over with a wheeze.

How the owner of the inn hasn't come to check out the noise yet, Lucid had no idea, but sooner or later someone would start questioning lanky legs sticking out of the window. When Tommy tried to pull Thomas again by one hand, Lucid approached and grabbed the other.

"One, two, three!" Tommy counted down, and they both huffed from effort.

Thomas moved just by tiniest bit, and time slowed down enough for Lucid to predict what exactly was going to happen next. He barely managed to let go and duck when the avian flew in like a wine cork, slammed into Tommy and they crashed into one of the beds with high-frequented screams.

Feathers floated all over the room, victims of the laws of physics laying in a messy pile of limbs.

"Get off my arm!" Tommy yelped.

"You're the one crushing my wing!"

If Lucid was chuckling at the picture before him, nobody would ever know. He approached, grabbed Tommy by the collar of his shirt and fished him out of the pile.

"Thanks," the boy chirped.

They started settling for the night, at some point. The room only had two beds, and Thomas immediately announced he liked the floor more, anyway. Lucid retreated into the furthest corner and Theseus happily accepted the second bed. Tommy, who got the first one without question, didn't seem quite contended with the decision, however. Lucid watched him curiously as he took the mattresses from both beds and dropped them on the floor.

"Here, now it's democratic."

"That's not democracy, that's communism." Theseus grunted, but dropped his pillow on the mattress and flopped down with his stomach. Not a good idea. Lucid didn't have the time to warn him, and Theseus winced and curled up on himself, swearing through a hiss.

Thomas was at his side at once. "Idiot," he barked. Momentary fright passed, and Thomas’ expression softened as he reached to check the raccoon’s wound. Theseus tried to roll away, “Hands off. I am fine."

Lucid leaned forward just a bit. Theseus wouldn't die, of course, but he might have accidentally loosened the stitches.

"It's okay to accept help, you know,” Thomas spoke with accusation in his tone.

"Oh?" Theseus narrowed his eyes. "I’ll strike you a deal, then. I let you rebandage me, and you let Tommy preen your wings.”

A quick look and grins shared between Theseus and Tommy left Lucid with the impression that this was somehow preplanned. The avian stiffened, eyes darting between them and feathered appendages tucking away firmly, “My wings are fine.”

“Your wings look like someone blew their nose into them,” Theseus said.

Thomas threw a desperate look at Lucid, a clear call for backup. Well, that was actually an accurate description. Lucid nodded actively.

“Traitors,” Thomas announced. “All of you.”

“We have a deal, then?” Theseus smirked.

Thomas bit his lip, “Fine,” he said.

Theseus half-leaned back on a wall while Thomas pulled out a roll of new bandages. Tommy flopped down behind him, the avian spreading one of his wings with a sign.

“Phil’s never were this bad,” Tommy said, “But I will try my best. Some help would be nice, though.”

And he looked at Lucid.

Oh no. His main weakness, direct eye contact.

Lucid hesitated. It didn’t slip away from him how Thomas flinched when the Tommy’s hands first brushed his feathers. Would he even be fine with his help?

Thomas turned his head just enough for him to notice a slight nod. Lucid released a breath he didn’t know he was holding and moved to sit next to Tommy. He ignored the way his chest warmed up when the boy and the avian grinned at him encouragingly.

Chapter Text

The streets, ghostly empty and hollow just less than a day ago now had been cramped to the degree Thomas was afraid to lose his companions in the crowd. It was evening again, the sky color of Techno’s hair, and they stood in front of a drug selling stand. Well, pots weren’t technically drugs, despite the heavy similarities in effects, but Thomas was used to calling them so; you can take someone out of L’manburg, but can’t remove L’manburg from them. Which wasn’t necessarily a good thing, as it turned out, when Tommy started shouting at random strangers: ‘We’re going to buy drugs!’

Thomas had to explain to a very concerned couple, in the most embarrassed tone ever, that no, we’re not going to drug a child, he is just joking and no, please do not call the guards. He regretted bringing Tommy along, but the other option was to leave him in the inn with Lucid or Theseus and they both needed supervision of their own.

That was why Thomas ended up dragging all three into the market with him, much to Tommy’s delight; he touched and poked each and every bottle like his hands would fall off otherwise. Theseus was close behind, arms crossed and eyes darting, watching his every movement closely; when Tommy reached for a misty green bottle, he caught the boy’s wrist.

“No, you’re not drinking poison,” he said, glaring harshly.

“I was just curious,” Tommy pouted. Thomas chuckled at the sight of his deep frown and scrounged up nose. He approached and wrapped his fingers around Theseus’ hand still holding Tommy, tilting his head in a silent request. The raccoon hybrid rolled his eyes, mouthing ‘you’re soft’, but let the boy go.

“Come here. I’m going to show you something,” Thomas said.

Tommy cheered up immediately, jumped to his side, “accidentally” stepping on Theseus’ foot on his way. The hybrid snarled, “Brat.” Thomas had to suppress a smile - the Trash Panda would absolutely get his revenge on him if he didn’t – and nudged Tommy closer to the stand and to a row of reddish bottles.

“Healing, healing, regeneration,” the boy read the labels on each aloud, “That’s what we’re looking for, right?”

Thomas hummed. The liquid swirled and glistered as he grabbed one of the bottles and raised it to his eye level, light passing through and reflecting on his fingers in flashes of raspberry pink and sunset orange. He held it for Tommy to see, “Ideally, the color should be monotone. The saturation is good, though, meaning that it isn't diluted with water.”

The other way to check the concentration was the temperature; Thomas held and brewed enough healing potions in his life to sense exactly how weak or strong effects would be just by brushing the glass with his fingertips. Tommy didn’t have that much experience, though, but he did look carefully into the liquid as if trying to remember the color.

“You’re really good with drugs, aye?” he winked.

Thomas laughed softly, “I would say I am excellent with drugs.”

He twisted the bottle in his hands one last time, and undissolved pieces of nether wart floated inside of it, “Under-brewed,” he concluded, clicking his tongue. “Theseus, what do you think?”

He didn’t even finish the sentence and Theseus unceremoniously snatched the bottle from his hands, claws clicking against glass, and uncorked it. Vibrant melon-sweetness sipped into the air in a cloud of pinkish smoke. Lucid, otherwise standing idly few feet away from them, took a large step back. Thomas could understand that; potion smell could get rather overwhelming. Theseus winced and downed the bottle in one go.

“Are you sure it’s not dangerous?” Tommy asked curiously.

Thomas remembered, how in early L’manburg days, they experimented with recipes a lot, and it often resulted in very... interesting side effects. He and Tubbo once tried to replace the brown mushroom with a red one in fermenting the spider eye and then shared the resulting slowness potion. Till this very day, he wasn’t sure whether he was hallucinating or if his friend’s face actually turned stripped green and blue for the next few hours.

“I mean, he’s already a furry,” Thomas muttered back. “Could it become any worse?”

“I heard that,” Theseus snarled, ears twitching.

Thomas and Tommy wheezed simultaneously.

“You need to pay for that,” the seller said, nodding at the empty bottle in Theseus’ hands.

"Of course,” Thomas nodded.

Together he and Tommy picked up and paid for a few more potions of better quality. The avian packed them carefully, “Alright, we got what we needed. Let’s go back.”

“Wait, what about the festival?”

Thomas needed a moment to remember what Tommy was talking about.

Earlier, in the afternoon, they had visited the local port and searched for a ship that would agree to take them on board. Thomas wanted to leave the town today and put as much distance between them and Phil as possible, but it turned out that none of the crews will sail off earlier than tomorrow, because of the festival the town will hold after the dusk.

“We could steal a ship,” Theseus suggested casually, like he was talking about snatching a candy.

There were hundreds of reasons why that wasn’t a good idea and Thomas had to take few seconds to pick one that would sound reasonable to Theseus.

“What’s the point?” the avian said. “We don’t know how to steer it anyway.”

Theseus fell into deep thought, and Thomas was ready to breathe out in relief when Lucid stepped in, ‘SLAV?’

Thomas felt a strong urge to massage his temples. These two could never stop surprising him with their incredible lack of morality; he would rather wait another day in worry than hijack a ship and take its crew hostage, thank you very much.

He planned on returning to the inn as soon as they got a healing potion for Theseus’ wound, and the other hybrid had agreed with him. They already attracted too much attention and continued to do so, even with Thomas’ wings covered by a long dark cloak. But now Tommy’s eyes were shifting between them, and initial confusion turned into a frown when he noticed an unsure look they shared, “We’re going to the festival, right?”

“We’re very tired already,” Theseus said, “Thomas?”

The avian got the hint and yawned. His incredible acting was fended off with an increasingly disappointed look in Tommy’s eyes.

“I am not going to be locked in a room for the rest of the evening,” he whined. “I will simply die of boredom.”

“And I will die from triple concentration of annoyance,” Theseus said, eyes darting between the three of them, “But you don’t see me complaining.”

Tommy looked like he was about to step on the hybrid's foot again, but a steel glare and straightened posture made it obvious Theseus was going to hold his ground. Where the raccoon hybrid was a stone wall, however, Thomas was molding clay. He understood he was doomed the moment Tommy turned to him with eyes full of plead.

“Thoma-as.”

“No,” he said softly. “I’m sorry, but-”

“There is a festival going on, without me.” Judging by Tommy’s tone, it had to be a catastrophe of an international level. It wasn’t, of course, but it did feel like one. Theseus loomed behind Tommy, drilling Thomas with a glare that clearly said, don’t.

Thomas repeated, “No.”

Lucid stood nearby, hands in his pockets and mask snapping between them, as if he was contemplating whether to intervene or not.

“I want to go,” Tommy stubbornly said. He grabbed Lucid by his elbow, the latter making a sound of surprise as he was forced to bend a bit so that the boy could keep holding him, practically, a hostage. Such a move would result Thomas in a yeet but Lucid tolerated it, albeit noticeably stiffening and snapping looks at them both in random order. Was that morse code for SOS?

“Lucid wants to go, too,” Tommy added. Lucid tilted his chin woozily, as if asking, ‘do I?’. Either Tommy didn’t understand or decided to ignore it, but he turned to face Thomas again. “Come on. I have never been to a festival before.”

Evening breeze brought smell of burnt sugar and caramel. Thomas turned to face the narrow street that led to a large square, tents and festival decorations flickering brightly in the distance. A family went past them, all laughing and smiling, two children playfully arguing over a cotton candy. Tommy stared at them with a lingering mix of envy and fascination. Thomas paused, mouth opening and closing right after.

He internally repeated all his previous arguments on why they shouldn’t stay – their group was too noticeable, Phil could be nearby, and generally, that just wasn’t a good idea. But. The festival didn’t even start, and the streets were already flooded. A couple of hybrids and a mask in the crowd couldn’t attract that much attention, right?

Tommy sensed the crack in his confidence and didn’t waste a single second on using it.

“For just a few hours?” he suggested in the most sheepish voice ever.

That was shameful, how easily he had given in. “Alright,” he signed, and it felt like the most relieving and tensing thing in the world at the same time. “One hour and we go back, okay?”

Tommy grinned, his smile instantly lighting up half of the town, and, just like he was, holding Lucid, ran towards the square. Poor guy almost tripped over trying to keep up with the boy’s rocketing pace.

“He played you like a fiddle,” Theseus frowned.

"Believe me, I know.” For somewhat reason, Thomas didn’t even feel that bitter about it. “Come on,” he said, nodding towards the sprinting figures, “While they didn’t get lost.”

They set up carnival games around the square, these they often have at fairs, where you expect to win a prize and get scammed instead. Thomas, however, didn’t even try to reason when Tommy approached one of them, only paid for the boy and watched as he tried to toss a ring on bottles.

“This is rigged,” Theseus told him after the seventh fail. “You’re only wasting money.”

“I want to give it another try,” Tommy said. “Please?”

Thomas signed but nodded, and Tommy picked up another ring. He held it in front of himself, clenched like a disc, and tossed it. The ring ricocheted from a bottle, pierced the air, slammed Theseus perfectly across his forehead - making the hybrid yelp - only to fly right back and... land around a bottle.

Tommy jumped a foot into the air, “YES!” He snapped at Thomas, “Did you see it? You saw it, right?”

“I saw everything perfectly,” Theseus snarled, hand covering a quickly forming bruise.

The man behind the counter offered Tommy a stuffed polar bear. It wasn’t big, just enough for one to fold their arms around it comfortably. Tommy twisted it in his hands, staring like it had hidden the secrets of the universe in its black-button eyes, “Aren’t I too old for this?”

“You never get old for stuffed toys,” Thomas reassured him.

Tommy hummed thoughtfully. He squeezed the bear a couple times, but his gaze kept wandering around until it locked on Theseus’ impassive figure leaning against a wall. He and Thomas had twin surprised expressions when Tommy approached and shoved the toy into the raccoon’s hands.

“What is this?” Theseus asked, confused.

“A compensation gift,” Tommy solemnly announced. “And you’re not allowed to refuse.”

The only thought Thomas had at that moment, we don’t deserve Tommy. He couldn’t help the cooing sound that made its way out of his throat; good thing it got lost quickly in the density of voices and noises around the festival. Theseus heard it, however, and eyed him with the same degree of disgust that was directed at the bear in his hands. “What a joke,” he muttered.

He acted like he got handed a bomb as he twisted and raised it to his eye level. The bear’s muzzle wasn’t exactly symmetrical, and one eye got stitched higher than the other, giving the toy an overall funny look. Thomas spotted the exact moment softness sipped into Theseus' expression. It was quick to get replaced by an exaggeratedly angry frown, “I hate it.” He proceeded to shove it under his armpit, “I am going to throw it away as soon as I find a trashcan.”

“He will not,” Thomas whispered into Tommy’s ear.

Lucid tried his hard not to show it, but Thomas noticed the way he eyed Tommy as the boy tossed another ball at the can knockdown game, a ‘I want too, but I am too embarrassed to ask’ kind of look.

Tommy blinked at him, surprised, when he paid for three more balls. Thomas shoved two of them into his pocket, fingers of his right hand readjusting the grip on the last one for a throw.

“Seriously?” Theseus hybrid raised a brow at him, “Are you a child?”

“Yes,” Thomas laughed, “but so are you.”

He swung and threw the ball. It flew a mile away from the target, not even brushing the side of a tin can pyramid. Oh well, he had yet to relearn aiming with one eye.

“Your aim is trash,” Theseus commented.

“You are trash,” Thomas took out remaining two balls, and tossed one of them to Lucid, “Lucid, give it a try.”

Lucid looked hesitant even as he caught the ball, staring at it like he had never seen one before in his life. Tommy jumped him from behind, throwing an elbow over his shoulder, “Go for it!”

Lucid tossed the ball into the air and finally gave up. It didn’t seem like he had even aimed much, but the projectile hit the bottom center can, the structure collapsing on itself wholly.

“Okay, Lucid has the best aim among us,” Tommy said, “After me, of course.”

They all pointedly ignored the last remark. Thomas smiled when Lucid straightened at the praise. Theseus, however, frowned.

“It’s not that hard, anyway,” he huffed, demandingly holding out his hand to Thomas. The avian hummed something along ‘of course’ and put the last ball in his palm. Lucid stepped away, arms crossed, and watched Theseus throw it after a short swing. Pyramid of cans crumbled on the ground.

“Told you," He smirked triumphantly. “Who has the best aim now?”

Theseus and Lucid stood opposite to each other, air tensing between them.

“How about we hold a competition?” Thomas suggested. “Who wins the most games, well, wins. And the person who loses must,” he took a pause, “grant Tommy’s one wish.”

His terms were accepted by all three parties. Lucid and Theseus played one game after another, and Tommy kept the track of the scores. Thomas’ role in this was to pay and hold the prizes – a handful of different toys – and he felt like a parent taking out his kids onto a carnival. He didn’t mind that much, though. He let himself relax and get lost in the rumble of familiar voices, gaze lazily sliding between his companions.

After eighteens game - or maybe nineteenth, he didn’t really count – they found a spot to sit at, beside a fountain in a nearby square. It wasn’t as crowded here, buzzing of the festival muffled by murmur of water and strum of a guitar in hands of a young woman sitting at the rim. Tommy waved a hand at her, received a smile and leaned against the fountain, beside Theseus unpacking a bag of sweet corn. He passed one to each of them, smirking, “You’re welcome.”

Thomas raised a brow, “It was actually me who bought it?”

“Did I stutter?”

Thomas rolled his eyes and settled next to Lucid on the ground.

The moon was high in the sky, and the avian was sure it neared midnight already, but looking at his idle companions, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Lucid lifted his mask just enough to uncover his mouth and took a bite out of the corn. Thomas and Tommy tried not to stare.

“Oh, look, he has a mouth!” Theseus exclaimed.

Thomas wouldn’t lie if he said Theseus had it coming. The corn flew past and hit the hybrid on his head. Lucid slid the mask back down, but Thomas got a quick glimpse of a smile of pale thin lips.

“Time to announce the results!” Tommy said shortly after, pulling out a piece of paper from his pocket. “Lucid won ten games. Theseus won another ten. Congratulations, it’s a tie.”

Lucid and Theseus exchanged a look, in the same degree disappointed as it was relieved. Theseus even went as far as to smirk, “So, we don’t to-”

“You both have to fulfill your parts of the deal.”

They jumped at the same time, both looking ready to murder someone. Someone being Thomas, for delivering the awful news. He had Tommy by his side, however, and Tommy had inviolability perks.

“The terms were, you lose, you grant my wish,” the boy grinned. “You didn’t win, which means you’ve lost, and it applies to both of you.”

Theseus blinked. Lucid shifted from one foot to another. The logic started sinking in, and honestly, they had no one but themselves to blame. That’s what happens when you don’t read - or listen to –terms and conditions carefully.

“What’s your wish, then?” Theseus grumbled.

“Lucid has to draw angry brows on his mask.”

Oh, Lucid did not look happy about that. In fact, he was pretty much pissed off. Theseus burst laughing, and judging by the mischievous grin on Tommy’s face, it was too early to celebrate.

“And Theseus has to dye his hair ginger.”

Theseus choked on his laughter. Lucid slammed him across his back, almost toppling him over.

Thomas looked at Tommy like he saw him for the first time in his life. When did it go wrong? Where did he become such an evil little monster?

Birth, his mind supplied. That’s a gremlin, not a domestic puppy.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Nope, I am completely serious,” Tommy grinned. “Don’t worry, though, you can do it with flower dye.”

“It will still take up to week to wash off,” Theseus threw his hands in the air.

“You agreed to this yourself.”

“Not hair. Please.”

Theseus tried to bargain, and Tommy, adamant at first, finally said, “Okay.” Thomas signed disappointedly. Can’t blame him for wanting Theseus to suffer,” then you will have to dye your ears and stripes on your tail. Like a red panda, you know.”

Theseus pinched the bridge of his nose, “Fine. You wait here, we’re going to buy the dye.”

Lucid looked much livelier than before. Thomas could bet the brows didn’t seem that bad to him now. He patted Theseus on his shoulder, the latter supplying him with a deadpan look, both walking towards the street leading to the market.

The guitar fell silent. Thomas turned and faced the woman previously playing it; she must have overheard the conversation, because the corners of her lips were tilting upwards. Worst thing, she was ginger; fire-red hair flowing freely down her shoulders. While Thomas was coughing away the awkwardness, Tommy hastily jumped to his feet and approached her.

“Can I take this for a minute?” he asked, pointing at the guitar in her hands.

Thomas stood up, opening his mouth to stop Tommy, but the woman nodded. “It’s fine,” she said as an answer to the avian’s apologetic look.

Tommy climbed the fountain rim, crossing his legs, and traced the strings with his fingers. There was clumsiness in his movements, but he certainly wasn’t completely new to this. Wilbur played the guitar for as long as Thomas could remember, and attempted to teach him, several times. He never had the patience for anything but few simpler chords; Tommy even strummed them in the order he remembered, stopping abruptly twice a second and muttering curses each time he had to restart.

When he finished, the musician clapped encouragingly.

“That was really good,” Thomas said.

Tommy chuckle and raised the beck of the guitar vertically, “Thank you, thank you.” His laugh faltered into a smile. “But, if we talk seriously, I am very bad at this.”

Tommy returned the guitar back to its owner. The woman’s eyes fell on Thomas, curiosity in the tilt of her head.

“Do you play?” she asked.

“No,” Thomas answered, but his hands were already reaching for the guitar.

The woman passed the instrument to him. Thomas carefully placed it on his lap and ran a hand down the strings for a test, the sound a pleasant hum to his ears.

He could only play a single song, from start to finish, but he knew it so well he could do it with his eyes closed. As soon as he started, his fingers started drifting on their own, notes flowing into a mellow melody.

‘I heard there was a special place,’

Thomas didn’t realize he started singing until Tommy shuffled closer to him. He side-eyed the boy, his fingers trembling a bit when his expression turned from surprised to utterly spellbound.

‘Where man could go and emancipate,’

Words vibrated in his throat, voice rising and falling with tune of the anthem.

‘The brutality and the tyranny of their rulers.’

Strength drained out of Thomas. He knew he couldn’t play anymore and stopped before he could get to the second verse, melody ending abruptly.

That was for the better, anyway. There were names in the lyrics Tommy would probably question. Thomas shoved the guitar back into the musician’s hands, hoping the sharp nod would be enough of a gratitude and apology. The woman looked almost sympathetic; she picked up the instrument and left them to sit alone.

He and Tommy stayed in silence that wasn’t tense nor comfortable, something thoughtful and still echoing with the notes of the song that already ended.

“It’s the first time I hear it with the lyrics,” Tommy said, and the confusion was enough to distract Thomas from the feeling of his chest wrenching into a tube.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“The song,” Tommy said. “You hum it sometimes, when in thought.”

Oh. “I haven’t realized.”

Tommy nodded and leaned forward slightly, perking up, “What’s the place you were telling in the song about?”

“Home,” Thomas said simply.

Tommy nodded in understanding, “Drista’s land.”

Thomas chuckled, “Yes. That one.”

They fell silent again.

“If you ever got a chance,” Tommy started, not looking at Thomas, and for somewhat reason it sounded like he was asking for advice. “Would you return home?”

Thomas closed his eyes for a moment, "No.”

“Why?” Tommy sounded surprised.

Tubbo and Ranboo came to mind. “They are better on without me,” he said. “My friends-” He almost said family, too, but the word died on his tongue before it could turn into a sound. “People that I left behind.”

It came out sadder than Thomas expected it too, and he chewed on his lips, trying to come up with a more cheerful topic to discuss. A warm hand squeezed his arm. He turned to Tommy. Maybe it was the lighting, but the boy's eyes seemed a shade darker and duller than his usual sky-blue.

“I can understand that,” he said quietly. “I think...” he paused. “I think my family is happy I’m gone.”

Thomas leaned forward to look into Tommy’s face, “Why would you think so?”

Tommy lowered his gaze, eyes focusing on his own hands in front of him, “I held them down.” It sounded like a confession, like Tommy was sharing a secret with him. “They wouldn’t say it my face, of course, but they left, one after another.”

It’s not like Thomas didn’t expect this answer - memories get erased with time, feelings don’t - but it didn’t make Tommy’s words hurt any less.

“Your brother,” Thomas said carefully, referring to Wilbur, “It looked like he cares about you a lot.”

Tommy huffed and pulled his knees to his chest. There was a long pause, the boy refusing to look at him. Thomas’ wing shifted on instinct to wrap itself around Tommy, the avian belatedly realizing he was still wearing the cloak. He put a hand the boy’s back instead, rubbing circles at it slowly.

Tommy closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, “Do you ever feel like you don’t belong to where you are?” he asked. “Like you’re not good enough, and people only keep you around because of pity?”

Thomas wasn’t sure whether he was talking about Wilbur’s family or their group, but it didn’t really matter. His hand froze under the boy’s neck, Tommy’s eyes fluttering open when he pulled it away. In the reflection of black pupils, Thomas could see his own expression melting into something both regretful and soft, “Oh, Tommy...”

And he pulled the boy into a hug.

Tommy stiffened for a mere second before practically lunging into his embrace. Thomas wrapped arms around his shoulders.

“You belong,” he said, “We’re ridiculous idiots, but we’re your brothers and we care about you.”

It was hard to tell who was comforting who. Tommy hid his face in Thomas’ shoulder, and the avian’s cheek rested on top of his head.

“I guess I am a ridiculous idiot, too,” Tommy muttered.

Thomas mustered a smile, “It’s not what I meant.”

Tommy chuckled, and it felt like tension left him altogether with that sound, only tiredness left in the hunching of his shoulders, “Yeah, I know.”

They sat like that for a while. Thomas ignored the soreness of his own back, holding Tommy close until the boy started pulling away.

“Your sweater stings,” he informed, as if trying to distract him from the fact he quickly wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. Thomas pointedly looked away, his own throat feeling dry.

“Do you want anything to drink?” he asked.

Tommy hummed, “I don’t want to walk. Besides, Theseus and Lucid might return while we’re away.”

“If you’re okay with waiting for a minute, I can bring you something.”

Tommy nodded, “Whiskey.”

Thomas stood up, his back cracking as he stretched, “Apple juice it is, then.”

The stands with foods and drinks were not that far away, but Thomas had to turn corners twice, and he found himself increasingly wary the longer Tommy was out of his sight. Leaving him near a fountain probably wasn’t a good idea; he had a great chance of finding the boy swimming in the knee-deep water when he returns. When the drinks were finally ready, Thomas grabbed them both and walked hurriedly the way he came.

A deafening bolt made him jump and duck to the closest wall the moment his feet touched the ground again. Thomas’ first instinct was to drop everything and cover his face, his mind racing with a panicked yell, ‘TNT!’, but the strange looks he received from passersby made him pause just for long enough to notice an explosion of blue above the square.

Fireworks thundered, one after another, sharp sparkles burning the night sky. There was little comfort in the fact it wasn’t dynamite; he flinched on every loud sound and flash of light. Screams of the crowd weren't making it any better; they followed each explosion, voices of fascinated children and adults, people halting in their tracks to stare at the show of color and sound.

Thomas would find his way over to Tommy; but right now, he just needed to get away from here as fast as he could. He had little care over the half-spilled drinks in his hand, his eye darting around the square in rushed search for the closest escape route.

He didn’t even know what was wrong at first. His brain registered the danger before he did, his wings clinging to his back, suddenly very small. All air just left Thomas’ lungs and he found himself staring at one specific spot.

In the crowd on the other side of the square, a man stood, his hands in his pockets and face in a relaxed, nonchalant expression. His gaze slid across the crowd lazily until poison green eyes locked on a stormy blue one.

Thomas’ blood ran cold. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. All he did was stare blankly as the man’s lips stretched in a grin one would greet an old acquaintance with. The paler Thomas’ face turned and the worse his hands trembled, the wider grew the smile, a twisted sort of amusement over his fear.

It was Dream.

Thomas’ Dream, with a thrashed scar on his cheek from the Axe of Peace, with eyes sunken and ever glassy like of a porcelain doll.

It was impossible, it couldn’t be happening, and yet Thomas was standing there, shaking, faced with his own worst nightmare. His voice left him, but he managed to mouth a word, ‘How?’

Dream’s laughter got lost in the thunder of the next firework. Thomas jumped again, cups clattering as they fell on the ground. When he snapped back up, Dream was nowhere to be seen.

“No,” he muttered, “no, no, no...”

He felt his knees giving up on him. Thomas would fall right there and suffocate, if it wasn’t for a thought bolting in his head – Tommy! Dream was somewhere in this crowd, and Thomas had left him alone.

People yelped and grunted when he violently shoved them out of his way. Thomas ignored them all, his heart racing louder than any voice. He almost tripped over his own foot several times yet ran and ran until he could see water moving ahead of him.

The fountain stared back at him coldly.

Tommy was gone.

Chapter Text

It's funny how the loudest people speak so quietly about things that really matter to them. You would expect them to shout and spill their problems onto everyone around, when in reality, they keep them hidden, never letting the image of a happy, careless person to shatter.

Tommy didn't tell Wilbur he felt unwanted, he never wrote to Techno to say he missed him, and he refused to let Phil know that maybe his absence hurt him more than he showed. Who knew how would they react if he did. Tommy didn't want to be a burden, or to be hated more than be already was. 

On Wilbur's worse days, he would refuse to do anything, staying in bed and staring into the ceiling numbly for hours. Tommy dragged him out of this state, distracted him with conversations and pillow fights until his brother was forced to stand up. And he wasn't mad about Wilbur calling him annoying or a menace; despite the frown and insults his eyes would be warm and lively again instead of the cold melancholic ones.

Caring for a person without them asking you to, wordlessly and unconditionally, that was what family was about, in Tommy's opinion. 

Lucid was silent and closed off about his needs, yet provided distraction and company to Tommy; Theseus didn't admit to his own vulnerability even when it was obvious but would do his best to cover other's, and the avian cared about them all without expecting anything in return.
By definition, they were a family, and they acted like Tommy was part of it, too.

Sitting there, wrapped in a warm embrace and breathing against the tears in his eyes, Tommy couldn't help but think that he wasn't against it at all.

Thomas left, the tip of his flight feathers peeking down from the cape, and he was left to wait alone, listening to the comforting rumble of the fountain.

Tommy's chest was warm and the air around him still smelled like grass, soil and ash - persistent mix following the avian everywhere he went.

He felt more happy than he did in months, yet there was something weighing down his chest and thoughts.

Guilt. 

Tommy already had a family.

Wilbur was more than just the person who took care of him, he was a brother, and replacing him with someone else felt wrong.

Tommy missed Wilbur immensely and with every day the urge to contact with him became stronger and stronger.

The only thing stopping him was the dread of his brother's reaction. Tommy chased away thoughts of his home altogether, but as the time went by, he started wondering if Wilbur had missed him as much as he did.

One part of Tommy wanted to believe that badly. After all, they grew up together - last three years he had practically been the boy's parent. Every happy memory he had was connected with Wilbur in one way or another.

All of that was overshadowed by the claws of doubts, however, and of the suspicion. Wilbur must be happy to see him gone. Tommy was an annoyance, a burden, so why would his brother even want him back?

Tommy swayed between the two and didn't know which direction to lean to. So what if he chose something in the middle? Tommy could write Wilbur a letter - and then let him decide whether he wanted to respond to it or not.

He didn't even need to hide it from his friends. Thomas was easy to convince, and now Tommy only needed to wait for him and ask.

“Tommy!”

As Tommy turned his head, he barely had the time to think - hey, didn’t Thomas leave in a different direction? - but the person he met eyes with wasn’t Thomas. 

Staring at him, on the other side of the square, was Wilbur.

In the same yellow sweater he had seen him last wearing, with dark bags under his eyes and hair looking like Phil's crows decided to make a nest in it, his brother seemed like he hadn't had any rest in days. 

Tommy barely had the time to register his presence and Willbur was already sprinting towards him. They almost fell into the fountain on impact, the boy letting out a squeak of surprise when his brother embraced him tightly. 

“Wil?” he breathed out. 

Someone must have announced the national 'give Tommy a hug' day and haven't notified him in advance. He didn't mind it, though. There was infinite familiarity and comfort in Wilbur's touch; something that finally eased the worrying ache in his chest. Tommy hugged Wilbur back almost on instinct.

His brother was the first one to pull away.

"Are you alright?”

It sounded rushed, on the verge of panic, and if Tommy didn't know any better he would think Wilbur was worried about him. He didn’t quite have the time to answer, and Will’s hands were already tracing his arms, shoulders, face, his gaze darting all the time. Tommy only hissed when fingers brushed close to a new bruise on his elbow, and Wilbur’s eyes immediately lit up with something suspiciously like anger.

“Did they hurt you?” he growled.

"I am fine," he said automatically. 

There was relief in Wilbur’s eyes, his frown and simmered lips smoothing out for a split second before returning with double the tension. His brother shot up, and Tommy was hastily put up on his feet by the arms still holding him firmly. 

"We need to get out of here." That was the only explanation he was given before Wilbur grabbed his wrist and speed-walked away from the fountain.

Tommy only blinked and followed as he was pulled along. Everything happened in less than a minute and it felt like a strange dream or a hallucination. Wilbur was supposed to be at his home, celebrating Tommy’s absence, but instead, he asked him strange questions and was taking him away to… Where? Why?

Tommy frowned, "Will, how are you here?"

His brother spared him a glance, “We’re here to save you."

Oh. 

So Wilbur thought he was in danger.

The memories of Tommy's last interaction with his brother came flooding in. Wilbur assumed he was kidnapped; he couldn't possibly know that Tommy left on his own will in the end.

"I don’t need saving," he said. "I am not in danger, I am The Danger, that's my middle name." 

"Tommy, it's not the time for jokes," Wilbur said with his back turned. He continued to pull on his arm. Tommy halted in his steps, his shoulder hurting when Will was forced to stop in middle of an alley. 

"I'm serious, Will," Tommy insisted. "I am safe, you don't need to look after me anymore." He paused. "You can leave."

Wilbur turned on his heels. Tommy blinked when hands gripped his shoulders, his brother hunching just enough to line up their eye levels. 

"I am never ever leaving you alone again." Wilbur breathed in loudly, eyes dark with hurt so strong it made Tommy's chest tighten. 

"Will?" he asked in a small voice, "Are you alright?" 

"I am not," he said. "My baby brother was missing for almost two weeks, and I have never been more frightened in my entire life."  

Tommy stiffened. He was so sure Wibur would be happy to find him gone, but that confidence was now gone without a trace.

"Were you worried about me?" he asked. 

Wilbur looked like he was about to cry. Tommy didn't think he had ever seen his brother like this. He put his hand on top of Will's, still holding his shoulder, and squeezed it slightly.

"I am fine," he said. "Really."

Wilbur's pained eyes softened. He let go off Tommy, straightening his posture, his gaze trained on him. 

"Come with me, Tommy," he offered a hand. "Please."

Tommy hesitated. Thomas would freak out when he found him missing.

His friends could return at any moment, however, and it was the worst possible moment to reintroduce them to Wilbur.

He just needed a little bit more time to calm his brother down and explain everything to him.

The longer it took Tommy to answer the more concerned Wilbur grew. Looking into his sullen, anxious face, he couldn't bring himself to refuse.

"Okay," he bit his lip.

***

They came into a park, or in something that was supposed to imitate one, just a small square of greenery in the middle of the town, surrounded by tall walls. Fireworks thundered in the distance and their colorful sparkles were barely enough to dissolve the darkness of the night around them.

"Will?" Tommy called. He didn't really need to, his brother was already looking at him, watching like a hawk, from where they stopped under a shadow of a tree. "Why are we here?" 

"We're waiting for Phil," Wilbur answered shortly. 

Tommy frowned. He must have heard it wrong. Phil was supposed to be away for another few months, and the town was still too close to his home for the avian to be anywhere around it yet.

“Phil?” he parroted. 

"Hey, mate."

Tommy snapped at the voice. Phil appeared from behind like a shadow. He, however, was quite alive and well, tired dark eyes and posture aside. Tommy took a step back, eyes shifting to Wilbur - who didn't seem bothered by Phil's presence at all - and then back to the avian. 

"What are you doing here?"

Strange, but there was something close to hurt in Phil's eyes when Tommy said that.
"I came after you, of course," he said softly. 

Tommy shot a glance at Wilbur. His brother must have asked for Phil's help, then. How mad were they going to be when they find out that all of their efforts were for nothing? 

"About that," Tommy said. He cleared his throat, gaze flickering between Phil and Wilbur, his shoulder involuntarily raising to his ears, "You see, I wasn't kidnapped. I left on my own will." 

Wilbur looked taken aback, like Tommy's words had physically slapped him in the face. The boy shifted from foot to foot, hesitating whether he needed to approach him or keep talking. Phil outpaced him, putting a hand on Wilbur's shoulder.

"Is that so?" the avian hummed.

Tommy chuckled and scratched the back of his head. It didn't sound like a question. Something strained was in Phil's expression that put Tommy on edge. 

Tommy brushed it off and smiled hesitantly. He was probably imagining it. The boy expected his brother and his father to ask questions, or get angry, but both stayed quiet. That had to be a good sign. 

"Yeah," he said, grinning. "Thomas, Theseus and Lucid offered me to come with them, and I agreed. They're actually good guys when you get to know them better."

"Tommy," Wilbur said, face neutral, but eyes flickering under a slight frown.

"They took good care of me. They took me to the festival, showed me the plains and they also taught me to ride a horse-" Tommy almost jumped there. Henry! "I need to introduce you to my pony. Henry is the best animal you will ever meet-"

Wilbur's and Phil's expressions grew more and more confused. Tommy was quick to stop himself, chuckling, "But that's for later. I need to introduce you to Thomas first. He is kinda the leader of the group, though Theseus wouldn't agree."

"They're strangers, Tommy," Wilbur interrupted. "What are even talking about?"

Tommy shut his mouth. Did Wilbur not hear what he said?

"Will is right, Tommy," Phil stepped in, gaze shifting from his brother to him. "You can't just put your trust in strangers like that." 

"They attacked me, Tommy," Wilbur added. 

Tommy shook his head. Phil and Wilbur just didn't understand. They're not strangers anymore. 

"I know your last interaction didn't end well," he said. "but it was all just a huge misunderstanding. They're not bad guys, they're my friends."

Phil and Wilbur exchanged a look that Tommy didn't know how to interpret the meaning of, like they knew something he didn't.

Tommy didn't have the time to ask what exactly, as he heard a quiet thud of something hitting the ground.

He turned around just in time to see a man straightening from where he climbed over the wall.

"They're not your friends," he said.

Tommy's whole insides suddenly turned over. His instincts remained silent, though wary, but there was a different voice in the back of his head, not louder than an echo, that was telling him to get away. 

Tommy didn't know why, however. The man in front of him was nothing out of ordinary; about Lucid's height, with dirty-blond hair and green eyes that seemed poisonous and empty at the same time. They stared at each other for a long moment, Tommy with surprise and caution, and the man with neutrality and just a slightest spark of curiosity. 

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and when he turned his head, Wilbur stared at the stranger with strained caution.

Dream frowned, "I see you found him."

"Not without your help," Phil took a step forward. Dream's gaze snapped at him, and he nodded slowly.

Tommy looked at Phil, then at Wilbur and back at Dream. They knew each other, it seemed, but it didn't change the fact that Tommy didn't. 

"And who are you supposed to be?" Tommy barked.

"It's Dream," Phil stepped in. Newly introduced man nodded in short greeting. 

"That's a stupid name," Tommy announced, "that doesn't actually tell anything."

Dream chuckled, a short, humorless sound. Tommy instantly snapped at him. 

"I guess you could say that I am an old acquaintance of the people you called your friends," Dream said. 

"Wait, you know Thomas?" Tommy perked up. "And Theseus with Lucid?"

 Dream hummed, corners of his lips tilting up into a grin, "Interesting names they came up with." His green eyes snapped back at Tommy. "I do, and I would say you decided to trust the wrong people."

"What do you mean?"

"How much do you know about them?" 

Tommy looked down and shifted from one foot to another. "I think they're my biological brothers."

There was a sound of someone choking, Wilbur staring at Tommy wide-eyed. The boy instantly retreated into himself, "Don't look at me like that. They told me so."

"So, that's what you think, or was that they told you?" Dream asked.

Tommy frowned. Was he trying to confuse him or what? Tommy narrowed his eyes, watching Dream closely. 

"We look alike." That had to be enough of evidence. "And they treat me well."

Dream narrowed his eyes, "but did they tell anything about where they came from? About who they used to be?"

"What are you hinting at?"

With every following second Tommy liked this conversation less and less. He didn't know where this weird guy come from and why they were still listening to him. Dream looked at Phil, and tilted his head towards Tommy. The boy didn't realize he clenched his fists until the avian gently wrapped fingers around his wrist.

"Mate," he said, "Your new 'friends' are not who they pretend to be. They're dangerous people. They're criminals."

Tommy blinked, once, twice. Criminals? Yeah, but only if ridiculousness or idiocy counted as a crime. 

Theseus did steal a couple things. And Thomas told they may have done some minor pranks, whatever he meant, but surely that wasn't enough to put everyone on edge like that?

"That's stupid," Tommy spat. "The only thing they are dangerous to are their own sanity."

"They attacked our family. They kidnapped you," Wilbur growled.

"For the last time," Tommy broke out, raising his voice, "I wasn't kidnapped. I left because I wanted to!"

"You might think so." Phil sounded like he was talking to a stubborn child arguing against something obvious. Tommy hated it. "But it's not your fault. They lied to you."

"You're the ones lying and blaming them without a reason!" Tommy ripped his hand out of Phil's hold and hastily stepped back, almost toppling over when his heel found a root.

Phil stepped forward, his wings flaring up and face scrounged up in concern. His silhouette was lit up by moonlight and flashes of fireworks in the sky, but something about it was utterly wrong. Anger boiling in Tommy's veins suddenly turned to ice. 

"Phil, what hapenned to your wing?" He asked. 

The avian turned, looking at the feathered appendage like he had seen it for the first time in his life. The wing was spread further, as was it's twin, and their asymmetrical forms stood out sharply for everyone to see and compare. Phil's flight feathers, shadow-black edge of his cape,  were gone.

"Did they not tell you?" The avian said with a bitter expression. "I have been following you for a week now. When I tried to get you to, a few days ago, the raccoon hybrid fought me."

Tommy felt as though someone flipped a bucket of freezing water on him. So that was where Theseus' wound came from. Tommy strongly suspected the hybrids were lying to him about the origin of the injury, but it hurt strangely for his suspicions to come actually true. 

Things started to make much more sense now. Why the twins were so nervous the last days, why they hurried so much to get to the town. If it wasn't for the festival, the four of them would have been already far in the open ocean and out of Phil's and Will's reach, and Tommy would have never found out both were just a couple steps behind. 

Thomas and Theseus knew they came after Tommy, but they didn't tell him a word. Quite the opposite, they tried to get him away from his family, all while he thought they didn't care about him. 

But why?

"They manipulated you." Tommy flinched - he didn't notice Dream getting closer - and raised his gaze, blue pair of eyes meeting the green one. "I know what I am speaking of."

Tommy remained quiet. He felt confused, sad and angry at the same time. Emotions collided but none seemed to take over the others. 

"They're not doing it for the first time," Dream continued, musing every word in a way that made them ring in Tommy's mind. "Have you ever heard of the Dream SMP, Tommy?" Tommy shook his head, and Dream said, "It's a piece of land I own. Thomas, Theseus and Lucid used to be citizens of it." 

"They earned other people's trust only to betray them later. They destroyed other people's homes, burned and blew them up. They killed people heartlessly-"

"It doesn't sound like them," Tommy interrupted. 

Dream didn't break the eye contact the entire time. It felt like he was staring into Tommy's soul, the boy too entranced to look away. There was something sinister, threatening in that stare that made him want to shut his mouth. 

"You're a young, naive child." Dream suddenly said. "Too easy to trust, so easy to lie to."

He threw a look at Phil and Wilbur. Tommy's gaze followed it involuntarily. He saw Phil nodding slowly. Wilbur said nothing, arms crossed on his chest, but didn't argue with Dream.  

Was Tommy really naive? Did his friends lie to him this entire time, and he hadn't had a single clue? 

"They must have had a lot of fun toying around with you," Dream said. 

Tommy didn't want to listen to Dream anymore. He felt lost, like the ground suddenly dissapeared from under his feet. Tommy looked away, panicking gaze locking on Wilbur. His brother frowned as soon as they met eyes, stepping forward and freezing between the boy and Dream. 

"That's enough," he said harshly. And then, turning to Tommy, "You're with your family now. We won't let anybody hurt you."

He shot a glance at Dream. Air around Wilbur radiated with anger, but it wasn't directed at Tommy. His brother and Dream stood against each other for a long moment, until the latter backed off, hands in his pockets and expression relaxed as if nothing had hapenned at all. Tommy watched him, wide-eyed, and the tension didn't leave his shoulders even as Dream stepped away for a dozen feet.

Wilbur put a hand on his shoulder, and Tommy leaned into the touch. 

"Wilbur," he asked in a weak voice, "can we… Do we believe him?"

Wilbur didn't answer for a few seconds. Tommy knew that look on his brother's face: he was thinking deeply about something. 

He put a hand into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper - no, a letter, Tommy realized. 

"We will see in two days," he said. "Techno is coming." 

Chapter Text

Throughout the festival evening, Theseus stayed wary. There was a buzzing at the back of his head, and a feeling of being watched made his ears twitch and turn dozen times a second.

Theseus wasn't always that jumpy. Just one look at Tommy was enough to say he used to be quite the opposite, all brash behavior and little care to any potential danger around him. And while the wars and exiles had their own share of wariness adding to Theseus' attitude it was after Doomsday that he went straight paranoid.

He didn’t like to remember it, but when the memories came, they flooded with vivid details and emotions. One moment, Theseus was waiting for Lucid near the dye shop, and the other, he was standing on the obsidian grind and stared at the grave of what once had been L’manburg.

Ash hung in the air like fog, clogging into his throat with every breath. Ugly crater, all blown stone and soot staining everything in thick grey carpet, was still echoing with the explosions of TNT and roars of the withers.

The anger and hurt burning him for the past months flooded his vision in red. There was a hysterical type of euphoria in setting the flags on fire, a grim satisfaction in watching the Camarvan get reduced to melting metal scraps and listening to people to scream in terror and despair as the dynamite rained from the sky, deafening BOOM ringing in his ears with every bomb hitting the ground.

They deserved it all. For betraying Tommy and leaving him behind when he needed them the most, for trying to kill Techno, the only person he had left for family, for taking his beautiful home and letting it to rot from inside out.

Tommy laughed as the country was destroyed, but little to no people noticed his voice cracking and the tears prickling at the corner of his eyes. He used to run on this grass barefoot and now all left of it was charred dry ground. Buildings and houses he helped to put up with his own calloused hands, polishing every plank lovingly, reduced to burned carcasses; flowers he planted sneakily to avoid his friends’ mockery, memories he made, everything went up in crimson flames.

As the boiling lava of rage in his veins cooled down, emptiness settled in its place. Tommy was like the L'manburg at that moment: hollow, miserable and reduced to former shell of himself. He didn’t regret his decision for a single second, but embracing its consequences was much harder than he expected.

“We’re leaving soon,” he heard Phil say somewhere from behind him. Tommy didn’t answer, and after a long pause, the avian asked, “You alright?”

Tommy abruptly swiped his face with his sleeve. He didn’t turn to face Phil; afraid he would break down if he saw the concerned expression on the avian’s face. Tommy could take this; it wasn’t a big deal.

“Yeah,” he said, voice small. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

Feathers shuffled. Phil shifted from foot to foot, clearly debating if he should approach Tommy. The urge to turn and jump into a comforting hug was strong. The raccoon hybrid nodded abruptly despite it.

“Just… Give me a moment,” he said.

Phil left and chased off Techno when the latter wanted to check up on him. Tommy heard them both stepping away, discussing something in lowered voices, and neither tried to stop him when he jumped down the obsidian grind and wandered off into the ruins.
Caught in his thoughts, he almost missed the movement on a rough cliff looming over the crater.

Tommy stiffened. Tubbo straightened on the very edge, still in armor put above the presidential suit, both too big and rough for his tiny figure. With his skin stained in blood and soot, even the dull brown of his eyes seemed to shine under exhaustedly trembling eyelids. Tubbo’s gaze moved across the crater and slowly raised to Tommy’s frozen form.

He reached for his axe, but Tubbo didn’t move. He just kept watching and something familiar was in his glassy gaze flickering to every little change of Tommy’s expression. He had seen this look before, but where?

They stared at each other for what felt like hours until the raccoon hybrid braced himself and growled, “Say it.”

“Say what?”

“Call me selfish again,” he snarled. “Say it’s all my fault.”

Tommy expected anger. Disappointment. Blame. Tommy was ready to defend himself and shout until his throat was raw, but a long minute passed, and tears spilled from Tubbo’s eyes.

Tommy’s mouth went dry. He stumbled backwards from the harsh wrench in his chest. It was unfair. Tommy was the one exiled, betrayed and thrown away like a broken toy, but Tubbo cried, quietly, sobs muffled out by the loose collar of his shirt he tried to wipe his face with, and he wanted nothing at that moment but to throw away everything to make him stop.

Tommy finally recognized the look on Tubbo’s face. He gazed at him the same way one would be staring at a grave; mourning for a person that was no longer here. Tubbo was looking at Tommy like he was dead.

“Tubbo?” he whispered.

His best friend – former friend – turned away and jumped down from the cliff, quickly slipping through the debris and out of Tommy’s sight.

He took a step forward on an autopilot but halted as soon as he felt a cold hand settle on his shoulder. Tommy tried to brush it off, breathing speeding up, and the hold only tightened until it became almost bruising.

“I'm not done with you yet,” Dream whispered, leaning over his ear and mask lifted enough for Tommy to see the faint smirk that bloomed on the man's lips when he shuddered and flinched away. Dream straightened, casually throwing his axe over his shoulder with its blade all too clearly bared for the hybrid to see. “Our story is not over.”

A sickening feeling in Tommy’s stomach wouldn't leave him throughout their way back to Arctic commune. It tightened his throat when he tried to take a bite of bread during the dinner, against his usual habit to hoard food in his room, as Techno grumbled, 'like a pest'.

Tommy snapped at every little sound, moved around the house like a shadow and slept with his hand on a knife. He imagined Dream's face, voice and the man himself everywhere. When Tommy looked out of the window, the green silhouette would loom in the distance. Dream's mask kept flickering in the corner of his vision and scaring the living soul out of him.

On the first day, Techno pretended not to see how a floorboard creak sent Tommy panicking and hiding in the basement.

The second and the third one was spent under Techno’s long, studying looks.

On the fourth day, Tommy woke from a nightmare to Techno's figure looming over him in a dark shadow. A sheathed sword was thrown on the floor in front of him. Tommy wrapped his fingers around the handle, lifted the weapon and shot Techno a questioning look.

"Stand up," Techno said, "We're doing the training montage."

Tommy sparred with Techno almost his entire life but never had his training been so intense. It soon became clear that it wasn’t just a way to distract him from his fear of Dream but his brother’s actual determination to improve his fighting skills.

He warned Tommy about his favor to Dream. Techno never was one for deep emotions, but Tommy knew his brother enough to recognize the guilt in his eyes.

“It’s alright,” he tried to smile, “I understand. Just stay out of the battle and meet me home if I make it out alive.”

When Dream eventually came after him, one hand on his sword and the other holding both Mellohi and Cat, Theseus own reflection on their rough surface radiated with determination. He was ready to fight on his own. He was not ready for Techno to step in front of him, shielding him away from Dream and the arrow aimed at his heart.

“I said it before, and I say it now,” he rumbled, “Tommy is under my protection.”

“Well,” Dream breathed out, amusement in his tone making Tommy shiver, “I want to use my favor this time.” He lowered his bow, smiling with confidence of a person who had just won a war, “Hand him over.”

“I am repaying your favor for letting you go now,” Techno said. “I won’t be so generous next time you try to threaten my family.”

Tommy was frozen as he watched anger shudder Dream’s entire form. They stared at each other, him and Techno, two legendary fighters, until the masked man tilted his head and sheathed his sword. “Very well,” Dream said.

And then he left.

Tommy watched Dream disappear behind a white curtain of a slowly strengthening snowstorm. He turned to Techno, wide eyed, and asked, “Why?”

A cape was thrown over Tommy’s shoulders.

“For you, Theseus, the world.”

Thundering of a firework snapped Theseus out of his thoughts.

He saw Lucid approach through the few strands of pink hair blocking off half of his vision. The newfound brows above the dotty eyes of the mask made his stare, concentrated on Theseus’, seem straight up hostile.

“Piss off. Tommy said nothing about dyeing all my hair, “Theseus took the colored strand and the rest of loose hair on the side of his face and hastily braided, “And if you really think of it, pink is just very, very light red.”

Lucid crossed his arms on his chest. Theseus lightly bumped his shoulder.

“Alright. It’s getting late. Let’s get the other two idiots and-”

Theseus didn’t get to finish his sentence. His gaze, flickering across the crowd, had caught on a figure swiftly moving in their direction he recognized as Thomas by the flared up, half-spread grey wings.

Something was amiss from the picture, however. Where is Tommy?

Theseus didn’t have the time to ask that question. Thomas rushed to them, stuttering and gasping for air as he was trying to say something. Theseus had to force him to stop and take a few breaths to finally understand at least a single word. Nor that it helped much, though. What Thomas said didn’t make any sense.

"Dream," he burst. "He is here."

"It's impossible." Theseus said, "What are you even talking about?"

Dream was hundreds of miles away, busy fishing with Sapnap and Callahan or doing whatever thing early SMP members kept themselves busy with.

"You don't understand," he was grabbed by his shoulders with a suddenly strong, almost bruising hold. It didn't seem like Thomas was even realizing the force he had put into pressing him in place," It's not this Dream, it's Dream from my timeline."

Lucid, eerily still just a moment ago, suddenly appeared between them, almost knocking Thomas over with the momentum of his dash. The mask flickered between two hybrids, something angry in the way his head shook violently from side to side.

"I am not lying," Thomas said. "I have seen him in the crowd."

Lucid only tensed at that.

'Bad joke,' the notebook was almost thrown into the avian's face, 'Where's Tommy?'

"That's what I am telling you," Thomas sounded almost desperate, "Dream took him."

Theseus' ears pinned down from the sheer amount of fury that flared up in the air. Poorly suppressed anger gave up on itself in the way Lucid clenched his fists and moved his feet as if prepared to slip into a defensive stance - a rather strong reaction Theseus didn't know the reason for.

"Calm down," he said. Theseus didn't risk putting a hand on Lucid's shoulder but stepped in-between him and the avian, eyeing the masked man coldly. Lucid backed off under his stare like a porcupine flattening its quills. “Thomas, tell us exactly what happened.”

And Thomas told. Hastily, stuttering and wings constantly twitching behind him. He must have lost the cape in the hurry; Theseus wondered if the avian even noticed its absence at all. He liked to think of himself as a collected, cold-minded person, but the animal part of him couldn’t help but absorb the nervousness radiating from the other hybrid.

Theseus didn't want to jump into conclusions. Thomas seemed to be telling the truth, or at least believing it was the truth. They were all stressed out of their minds these days, both from the journey and each other’s company, and tired people tend to imagine things; Thomas must have just saw someone similar to Dream and his brain did the rest of the job.

It didn’t explain where Tommy went, though, and that was what concerned Theseus the most. The boy could have gotten lost to misfortune of them and any strangers he would decide to terrorize. Theseus tried his best to calm the avian down – or, in other words, barked at him to stop panicking – and suggested they look for Tommy separately and then meet each other again an hour later.

As Theseus jogged back to the inn, he tried to ignore the uneasy feeling raising in his chest. All three of them had survived for months on their own before they joined the SMP in their own respective timelines, so Tommy would be fine, too. Theseus kept telling that to himself, but it didn’t prevent him from biting his lip nervously when he opened the door of their room and found nothing but mess of discharged pillows and half-unpacked bags they had left earlier today.

“Tommy?” he called.

Nothing. Tommy didn’t crawl out of under the bed or jump out of the closet. Theseus signed. Maybe Lucid and Thomas would have a better luck than he did.

Just as he was about to leave the room, something white attracted his attention: a piece of paper, pinned under the closed window. Theseus’ ears fell flat against his ears as he lifted the frame and carefully picked up the note.

‘See you in two days :)’

Theseus didn't realize he was clenching the paper until his claws tore through it right where the smiley face was. For the first few seconds his mind was nothing but a rushing streak of swears.

Thomas didn’t lie. He didn’t hallucinate, either.

Suddenly it became deadly clear where did the alarming sensation come from earlier. Dream found them a while ago and observed, waiting for the right moment to strike. Theseus should’ve listening to his instincts and get them all out of there, but he didn’t, and now, Dream, practically the one that exiled Theseus and threatened him afterwards, and the same one that almost killed Thomas, took Tommy.

Theseus, oh so slowly, hid the note in the pocket of his pants and slid down the wall with a hand in his hair. His mouth went dry, and he would’ve screamed if not for the thick fog of guilt that squeezed itself into his chest. Theseus could barely breathe from the tightness of the feeling that he was all-too familiar with.

Last time it all started with a message, too. Ranboo handed it to him with such a look on his face like he was carrying the most precious thing in the world.

“It’s from Tubbo,” he said, and at that moment, the world had stopped for Tommy.

It was an invitation. Half words misspelled, nervousness obvious where the letters slurred together, Tubbo was asking him to come to Snowchester.

Tommy had seen that place from afar several times throughout the month following Doomsday. He came close, watched Tubbo build his house and stood on the porch when it was done. Tommy shivered there for hours, once, but never gathered the courage to knock, turning and sprinting away like a coward.

He wasn’t going to back away that time. Tommy was invited, Tubbo wanted him to finally talk the things out.

Tommy smelled the fire before he saw it. He sped up, boots sinking into the snow with every step, heart leaping when clouds and clouds of coal-black smoke rose above the pointy treetops. By the time he made it to Snowchester, half of the commune had already burned down. Tommy ran past the stone fundaments still standing, not caring when a spruce beam creaked and crumbled dangerously close to him.

“Tubbo!” he called. His eyes searched the destroyed buildings but fell on a spot of crimson red.

Tommy froze in his tracks and stared at the bloodied marks of someone’s footsteps.

“Tubbo?” his voice wavered.

Oh so slowly, he raised his gaze, following the marks all the way up to Tubbo’s house, to the body on the front steps, to the sword pierced deep through its chest and, finally, to the empty pale face staring back at Tommy.

“TUBBO!” Tommy screamed.

Tommy’s axe fell from his hands. He sprinted to the house and fell on his knees in front of Tubbo. His fingers pressed to his neck and his wrist, searching for the pulse even as he felt the icy coldness of the boy’s skin.

“Wake up,” he growled through his teeth, shaking Tubbo by his shoulder, avoiding looking at the handle of the sword. “This isn’t funny.”

Tommy took Tubbo’s head in his hands.

“Wake up,” he choked out through the sobs. He pressed their foreheads together, “Please.”

“Tommy?”

Tommy snapped at the voice. Through the fog of his own tears, he saw someone stepping away from him with a startled gasp. Jack Manifold.

“What did you do?” he sounded horrified. “You killed Tubbo!”

Tommy, sitting in the middle of ruins of Snowchester, alone with the corpse of his best friend, covered in blood.

Jack took out his sword, and Tommy grabbed his axe and ran.

Chapter Text

Theseus spent three days hiding in the forest before Techno had found him. He remembered nothing from those seventy-two hours he was curled up in an abandoned bear den, except for the terrifying, all-consuming feeling of hopelessness and grief.

All anger he ever had against Tubbo had vanished, became meaningless and empty after his death. Without that hatred, he was still Theseus’ best friend, so one can imagine his horror when he learned that everybody believed him to be the one to put the sword through Tubbo’s chest.

It made him feel sick and betrayed. He knew this people, they knew him, so how could they even assume Theseus could kill Tubbo? He couldn’t understand it at that moment, but with time, it started to make alarmingly a lot of sense. Theseus was a terrorist; he destroyed a country, he tortured Fundy, took Connor hostage, he fought and injured Tubbo during the Green Festival, and it wasn’t surprising people put murder next in that line.

It didn’t make it hurt any less when Theseus’ former friends stared at him with nothing but rage and disgust on their faces. Nobody even gave him a chance to explain himself, and the only attempt to do so resulted in a scar from a skew shot of a bow. Sam, Quackity, Fundy, Niki, Jack and many others… Everyone drew their weapons on the first sign of his appearance. Everyone except for Techno and Phil. They were the only ones to believe Theseus innocent, just like it was with the explosion of Community house, and when people tried to arrest and put him into prison, they stood up for him.

Thinking of it now, Theseus should have just surrendered and let himself be thrown into Pandora’s Vault. Whether he did or did not deserve to rot in a cramped obsidian cell didn’t matter if it would’ve prevented everything that happened afterwards. Because by standing Theseus’ side, Techno and Phil turned his enemies against themselves. The frustration around Doomsday that seemed to seethe rose anew, and, added up with grief of Tubbo’s death, turned into a destructive wave of rage, crashing on Techno, Phil and Theseus, but not on Dream.

Dream. Theseus wanted to claw at a wall from the mere mention of that name. He didn’t have a single doubt Dream was the one to kill Tubbo and that pinning it on Theseus was part of a plan produced by the sick bastard’s mind. He didn’t know how he learned of their meeting with Tubbo – the only other person to ever know about it was Ranboo – but he saw it as a perfect opportunity to get his revenge. It was all like Dream always wanted: server united again, against Theseus and his family.

Turned out, not all of Snowchester was destroyed. When Theseus learned about Tubbo’s last project, it was already too late. He watched the nuke fall from the sky with a terrifying realization that he didn’t have the time to do anything about it. Not to run, not to brace himself, not to look into Techno’s eyes for the last time.

And then the world exploded in flashes of purple and green particles.

Karl saved him. Theseus always thought the man was weird in other-worldly way but the last thing he expected was for him to be an interdimensional being. Karl told him a lot of things. How he initially thought himself to be a time-traveler and how he never knew when and where he would end up next. Only later Karl had learned that the places he was thrown into were not, in fact, future or past, but completely different worlds.

“They are not parallel but either ahead or behind of each other,” he explained, “like points on a spiral. Something that already happened in one world can’t be reverted but can be prevented in the next one.”

Karl invented a way to willingly slide on the spiral of the existing worlds, effectively breaking the only limit to the powers he had, and thus continued to hop between the timelines, looking for a future in which, as he said, ‘we can all live in peace.’

Theseus had a hard time wrapping his head around all of it, but there was no other way to explain how he was still alive and how he ended up in a giant castle floating above the void. Once he had accepted Karl’s words, more questions had begun to form.

“Why me?” he asked, clenching the balcony railings so hard his knuckles went white. “Why didn’t you save somebody else?”

Theseus didn’t say anything more, but both knew he meant Phil and Techno.

Theseus wasn’t one for baseless hope. He saw the crater the Tubbo’s test nuke left. It couldn’t compare in size with emptiness that was carved inside of him by the realization there wasn’t any way somebody could have survived that explosion.

Karl pulled out a journal out of the inner pocket of his jacket.

“I started to write down everything,” he said, “how each world is different from the other. I intervene occasionally, trying to prevent as many disasters as I can.” Karl opened the journal and flipped the pages down to one of the bookmarks sticking out of the worn, yellowish edge, “You remember that Wilbur was going to blow up Manburg during the Red festival? He couldn’t find the button until the end of the event.”

“That was you?” Theseus furrowed his brows. “You hid it?”

Karl nodded in confirmation.

“The Red Festival was one of the things that I was able to change. But the alterations I make don’t always fix everything. For example, your death.”

“Get straight to it,” Theseus scowled.

Karl took a pause, something almost apologetic in the way his fingers fiddled with the collar of his jacket, “You always die, Tommy. In every dimension I had been to, in one way or another. The changes I make sometimes lengthen your life, but you, by far, lived the longest that any other Tommy I’ve met.”

“And that is how many, exactly?”

Instead of an answer, Karl held the journal in front of him. Theseus watched him flip through the pagers – they were labeled now that he noticed it – before stopping at an empty one at the very end, pulling out a quill and scribbling a small ‘98’ at the corner.

“Oh,” he said.

“I’m going to need your help to remember and write down events from your timeline,” he gestured at the rest of the page, “And, afterwards, I can bring you back to your world, if you want.”

Theseus’ claws sank deep into his own elbow as he hugged himself tight. Through the fog of numbness creeping up on his mind, he wondered if there was really any reason for him to go back. People hated him and only saw him as a villain, as a murderer. Tubbo was dead. Techno and Phil were gone.

“And if I don’t?” he asked.

“Then you can stay here, in the Inbetween.”

That’s what Theseus ended up doing.

The sun didn't move an inch since the day one, the sky frozen in peach and pink sunset; Theseus had no way of telling how much time had passed since Karl brought him into the Inbetween, and there wasn't much to do anything there but to think.

First came the anger. Mostly at Dream, for killing Tubbo, for turning the SMP against him. Theseus was thinking of accepting Karl’s offer just to find and kill the bastard with his own hands, but the only thought of going back to see what was left of Arctic commune brought painful waves of panic and grief.

Theseus was lost, confused and afraid. Or in another words, just pathetic. Theseus owed Techno as much as to at least avenge him, and he wasn’t strong enough to make himself to face his fears. In the end, it made him angry at himself, for dragging other people into his brawl with Dream. Tubbo’s life was thrown away like a useless trinket all because the masked man wanted to get his revenge on Theseus.

The guilt never ended. It was like listening to the same music disc again and again and again, except every single note felt like it was carved onto his skin with a heated knife. It was a torture, and he had deserved every single bit of it.

Little change stirred Theseus’ self-tormenting routines when Karl brought another person to the Inbetween. First time Lucid arrived he looked like he was pulled straight out of a battle and was so jumpy he almost plunged his trident into Karl's abdomen when the latter tried to bandage an actively bleeding wound on his shoulder. Theseus had to step in. Lucid’s mask flickered between the axe in the raccoon hybrid’s hands and his own injuries – and then he ran away like a scared animal.

Theseus shouldn’t have cared. He didn’t care. Lucid was just the first person he saw in a while, not counting Karl. Even the porcelain mask with a face resembling so much Dream’s signature smile didn’t keep him distant for too long, and curiosity was what had driven Theseus to look for Lucid around the castle.

The bloody trail led him to the masked man, crouched on roof of one of the smaller towers of the castle, looking ready to bolt. Theseus put bandages and potions for him on the floor and left; they never needed food or sleep in the Inbetween, but injuries healed normally if not a bit faster.

That was mostly done for their close interactions, really. Lucid and Karl had a conversation later, and that had to be Theseus’ most unfruitful attempt at eavesdropping. After that, Lucid acquired a notebook with a quill and Theseus – a new roommate.

For whatever reasons, the masked man refused to return to his world and decided to make scaring the living soul out of Theseus his new life purpose. Even with enhanced hearing and sense of smell the hybrid had no idea where Lucid was half the time, and an emotionally unstable assasin-ish guy jumping him from a corner wasn’t something he could ever get used to.

He couldn’t complain too much, though. Theseus’ old problem with hallucinations had returned at him again shortly after: sometimes Tubbo came running down the stairs or Techno polished the netherite of his sword methodically or Phil waved at him, wings spread in graceful glide. Presence of another person, even as silent as Lucid, was still enough to chase the visions away. So, overall, they lived in harmony. Well, not in harmony, and more in a wordless sort of tolerance, but everything changed when Karl brought Thomas.

He panicked over every little thing, flinching from sudden movement like he expected to be punched. There wasn’t any corner in the Inbetween Theseus could hide in and not hear Thomas scream, either from Lucid’s jumpscares or without any reason at all. He had the impudence to insult and quarrel with both of them unprovoked and, overall, was loud and annoying. And with his appearance, the castle seemed to be the most alive it had ever been. Thomas was also the first one to waver with the choice Karl had given him, and when he finally decided to announce his decision, Theseus and Lucid were both there to listen. Out of curiosity. And because they need to know whether they had to tolerate Thomas further.

"You said you tried everything,” the avian said to Karl. "You never changed anything further - or former - of the Disc war.”

Theseus and Lucid shared a look.

“So, what you are trying to suggest is…”

“Preventing me – I mean, past-me, or more accurately, us,” Thomas rubbed his forehead, “- oh this is so weird to say – from ever coming to the Dream SMP.”

Karl was flipping his journal again, face scrunched up in deep thought. “It’s quite easy. Making the younger Tommy to turn another way or sail another ship should be enough. But weren't you, like, fourteen at the time? Do you really think it's a good idea to let a child wander on their own?"

Theseus stayed silent throughout the interaction. He hadn't any doubt Karl knew none of them three were adults either, but nobody decided to voice it.

"Almost fifteen," Thomas corrected him. "And not on his own. With our team."

"Hold on there for a second," Theseus interrupted, "I am not part of your team. And I am not going anywhere.”

Thomas looked at him like he had grown a second head, “Why not?”

"I'm good where I am. I am brilliant, actually."

Thomas sent him a doubted look. Theseus reflected it with confidence.

"How long I've spent here?" Thomas asked Karl.

Karl pulled out a pocket watch and frowned as if trying to remember something, "around three days of normal time."

"It's been three days and I'm already sick of this place. I assume you're here for much longer time and surprised you don't want to get out yet."

"I have my reasons,” Theseus snarled.

"You can't just sit here, doing nothing, for an eternity."

Theseus was about to say that yes, he pretty much could, but Lucid interrupted first. He stepped in, with a message ready, and held it for all of them to read.

‘I am coming with him.’

Theseus pursed his lips. It’s not like Lucid was obliged to take his side, but it still felt strangely like a betrayal.

Thomas perked up for a moment at Lucid’s words and then turned back to Theseus again, “Just think of it. Is there nothing you want to fix in the past? Nothing you want to make different?" He paused. “Don’t you want to give yourself a second chance?”

Theseus averted his gaze and crossed arms on his chest. Thomas couldn’t have any idea which nerve he hit but it was impossible not to notice when Theseus’ confident bravado fell off like a poorly glued poster from a wall, for long enough that all three men saw his doubt.

There were hundreds of things he wanted to change or go differently, but what he wanted was one thing and what he deserved was another, and Theseus didn’t deserve a second chance. He only ever hurt people with his presence, he was a coward who ran away from his fears and responsibilities, and an eternity spent in the Inbetween was a punishment he wholly brought on himself.

They can leave; if anything, it would only make Theseus’ live easier. Lucid was a curse. Thomas was a menace. But they were Theseus first real company in a long time. If they were gone off without him, he'd be alone again, save for the never-ending feeling of regret.

And yet… Theseus was tired of the guilt destroying him from inside out. He lived with it for long enough that sometimes it felt like it was slowly driving him insane. And all that struggle, for what? Theseus could feel sorry for himself all the same; in the end, it wouldn’t turn back the time and fix his mistakes.

Theseus was given a chance to change something for real. Wouldn’t he be a fool for not at least considering taking it?

“So,” Thomas said, “What do you say?”

“Fine,” he said. “I mean, whatever. If Karl even can send us all in the past.”

“It’s going to be harder than usual,” the man said. “But it should still work.”

Vague black lines on Karl’s hands started glowing faint purple. Letters, words, sentences in the language none of them knew, running all the way up to his shoulders, lit up bright enough to be visible even under the jacket. Theseus had seen him do this before, but the way the whites and pupils of Karl’s eyes merged and turned completely green still made him slightly uncomfortable.

Thomas’ wings flared up, “Is that a spell?”

“You could say that,” Karl responded, his voice distant. It reminded of Ghostbur’s, in a way, but with less echo and more deep, unexplainable strength to it. Karl himself was harmless yet the sheer sensation of power radiating from him unnerved Theseus’ instincts. “I invented a way to travel between dimensions, but it requires a physical copy of the writings to be present during the process.”

“Wasn’t it easier… To record it in a book or something?” Thomas chuckled nervously.

“There was a book. I lost it and turned the contents into tattoos so that it wouldn’t happen again.” He paused. “Speaking of books.” He pulled out the familiar journal and handed it to Thomas, “Take it. I have a copy, and you’re going to need it if something goes wrong.”

“Cut the talk,” Theseus interrupted. “And let’s get over with this faster.”

Karl nodded. And the next thing they knew, they crashed into each other in a messy pile in the middle of a forest with an all-too familiar house peeking out of the dense covers of trees.

Thinking of it now, Theseus should have paid more attention to Karl’s words. Maybe then he would understand how the man’s powers worked and, consequentially, how in the world did Dream ended up time-travelling after them.

***

Lucid was first to return to the inn.

Not much explanation was needed to Theseus’ silence beside Dream’s message. Lucid read it and went still for a long, long moment. It was one of the times Theseus wished he could see his face and expressions; from his perspective, Lucid looked shocked, but could pass as just thinking about something deeply or spacing out. Yet there was a harsh movement, a tilt of his head, followed by shudder of his shoulders and hands instinctually flying to his belt – to reach for a weapon – that betrayed fear. Lucid practically radiated with nervous sort of atmosphere that vaguely reminded him of Ranboo.

“Lucid?” he called. “You’re with me?”

As soon as he talked, whatever trance Lucid fell into was gone. He got ahold of himself, body language withdrawn again, straightening in a way that they were almost on the same eye level despite Theseus being slightly taller than him.

It occurred to Theseus he never learned how Lucid died. Only that it possibly was a battle with someone he couldn’t stand against, if bleeding injuries were anything to go about. Lucid was a strange person, full of unanswered questions and mysteries, but his today’s reactions to Dream – one to his mention, the other to a message left by him – left Theseus with a lingering suspicion.

He questioned Lucid’s mask before. Both mentally and with words. It’s not like Lucid ever bothered to answer; best case, he would ignore the question, worst case, closest solid object would go flying into the person asking as demonstrated by Thomas the first time the avian met him.

“I have an important question for you. And it’s not just a matter of curiosity.”

Lucid tried to act nonchalant but staring into the drawn black circles of the mask, the raccoon hybrid couldn’t help but imagine blue eyes flickering warily around the room, looking for an escape.

“Lucid,” he said firmly. “I want an honest answer. Back in your world, did you have any relation to Dream?”

Lucid took his notebook and pinned it against a wall. ‘No.’

“Then what’s with the mask?”

‘I borrowed the looks.’

“And that’s it?” Theseus asked. “No other reason at all?”

Theseus stared at him, brows furrowed, looking for any sign of the other man lying. Either there weren’t any or he wasn’t looking closely enough. Something still seemed off in the way how Lucid was too quick to scribble out the answer.

‘I haven’t seen Dream ever since, ’ Lucid paused for just a split second, ‘ the exile.’

Theseus barely had the time to note to himself the fact that Lucid was once exiled, too, when Thomas burst through the door.

“Have you found Tommy?”

He froze in the doorway on the sight of raccoon hybrid’s grim expression. Theseus had a feeling the avian’s reaction wasn’t going to be good, but there was no use in hiding it either.

“Take a look at this,” he said.

Perhaps there was a small part of Thomas that had wanted to believe Dream really was his hallucination, because when Theseus showed him the message, the avian paled deathly.

He looked around the room like if the walls started closing off on him and darted for the window. Theseus lunged after him – the last thing he wanted right now was to deal with Thomas getting a panic attack while stuck in the windowframe again – but the avian slipped through and disappeared faster than he could say the word ‘stop’.

Theseus and Lucid caught up with him on the roof. Thomas crouched down like he was going to jump onto the balcony of a nearby building, wings snapping open for balance. Theseus grabbed his wrist and yanked him back.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“What does it look like?” Thomas snarled back at him, thrashing against his hold. “I’m getting Tommy away from Dream.”

“You don’t know where they are.”

“I’m going to search.”

“It’s an entire town, they can be anywhere.”

Whatever energy burst had previously driven Thomas forward faltered against Theseus’ words. The avian saw the reason in them, and the anger melted away from his body and expression. Without it, Thomas looked... Lost. Confused. Afraid.

He allowed Theseus to pull him back to the center of the roof and let him go. Both fell into tensed silence. Thomas didn’t try to run this time, staring at the other hybrid while his wings folded behind him neatly.

“He will hurt Tommy,” he said, and shivers run down Theseus’ spine. “I shouldn’t have left him alone even for a second. It’s all my fault.”

“You can’t blame yourself for something you didn’t know would happen.”

Thomas eyed him skeptically but didn’t brush Theseus’ hand off when he placed it on his shoulder. It was probably the closest to a hug Theseus would ever allow himself to get.

In the end, Dream was the one who killed Tubbo. Jack launched the nuke at the Arctic commune. Theseus closed his eyes for a second, “I mean it. And I think,” he added, “that Tommy is safe for now.”

“How can you know that?”

“Dream is too insistent on letting himself known. First you saw him in the crowd, then he left a message, knowing full-well that it will attract your attention.” Thomas and Lucid shared an understanding look, and Theseus took that as his cue to continue, "If his only target was Tommy, he would've just disappeared without a word. Dream is after you,” he continued. “Or quite possibly, after all of us, as he most likely knows about me and Lucid.”

‘Tommy’s the bait?’

Theseus nodded. “And probably leverage, too. Dream’s not stupid enough to think he can win a fight against three people at once.” Few days ago Theseus wouldn’t believe himself saying it; right now, it felt right to add, “We’re a team, after all.”

Lucid unattached his axe – quality work, but nothing in comparison with the Axe of Peace - from his belt and tossed it in the air, and avian caught quicker than the raccoon hybrid blinked. Huh. Maybe he wasn’t that bad of a fighter.

Thomas twisted the axe one way and another, getting used to the weight and balance. There was still trace of doubt in the way he pursed his lips, “And until then?” His eye flickered back to Theseus. “Are we just going to wait?”

It was Theseus turn to hesitate.

“Well,” he said, “I do have one idea.”

***

Theseus, frankly, felt stupid.

He wasn’t even sure it was going to work.

Lucid and Thomas beside him shared a confused look, and the avian asked, “Why did we come to a dumpster again?”

Theseus didn’t answer. He flipped a handful of dried berries on the ground in front of a pile of trash he clearly had heard familiar chatter behind from.

Theseus used to think Phil’s Chat was part of him being, well, ancient and all, until he met other hybrids and learned that communicating with species their other halves originated from was a normal thing. Endermen responded to Ranboo’s chirps and rumbles, Fundy discussed pranks with his pet foxes, and even if Theseus never saw Tubbo talk to a sheep, it didn’t mean he couldn’t do it at all.

When a curious masked muzzle of a raccoon peeked out from under an old wooden box, Theseus kneeled in front of her – he instinctively knew it was a female - and coughed awkwardly, “Hello?”

The raccoon retreated, black round eyes glittering at him warily in the shadows. He heard Thomas choking on a wheeze behind him and fought the urge to pin his ears down and growl at the avian - it surely wouldn’t do any good in earning the raccoon’s trust.

Theseus wasn’t sure whether the raccoons could understand his words or if it was a thing only for animals as smart as crows. But raccoons are smart, too, aren’t they? The raccoon slowly crouched out of her niche, picked up a few berries and chugged them all in a hurry. She didn’t try to run or attack him immediately on sight, so that had to count for something.

“I’m trying to concentrate here,” he muttered, careful to keep his tone low and neutral.

It’s been a while Theseus had made any raccoon noises. Maybe his growling and hissing sounded more animal than human, but that was about it. When Techno had first found him in that basement, Theseus, with his brand-new hybrid traits making his brain foggy, barely spoke any words at all. He later felt so embarrassed for it that he suppressed the instinctual chatters and chitters even when Phil reassured him he didn’t need to.

Despite the disuse, the sound clicked off his throat easily, like a breath, and it instantly attracted the raccoon’s attention. She rolled her head and took a few curious steps forward when Theseus chattered at her again. The raccoon opened her mouth and made a questioning sound, to which the hybrid answered with reassurance, and they continued to do that until the animal sat in front of Theseus with her front paws resting on his knee.

It was not cute.

“Hello there,” he said, stroking the fur on top of her head, and his voice definitely didn’t go a tad bit higher and softer when he spoke, “I need your help.”

The raccoon curiously tilted her head. Either Theseus hallucinated, or there was an actual understanding in her black bead eyes.

“I’m looking for a person. He looks like me, but shorter, and you know,” Theseus ran a hand over his ears, “not a hybrid. Human.”

He put down a bag previously thrown over his shoulder, the one Tommy carried around with him. Theseus paused as he opened it, the stuffed polar bear the boy gifted him earlier resting on top of everything else. He must have shoved it there earlier without thinking. The trash can was right in front of them, but gift is a gift, and instead, Theseus carefully put it away.

The rest was offered for the raccoon to carefully inspect and sniff. Theseus’ sense of smell certainly wasn’t strong enough to track people, but that had to be his human half’s drawbacks, or at least he hoped so. In general, for a raccoon hybrid, he knew embarrassingly little about these animals.

The raccoon pulled her head out of the bag, found Theseus’ eyes and slowly nodded. Motion was so human-like it almost made him jump, but also chatter happiness and gratitude. He didn’t mean to, really. It was just stupid hindbrain getting to him again.

The raccoon scratched his legs slightly, interrupting another of his chatters, and stared at him expectantly. Theseus blinked and tried to offer her berries again, to which the animal hissed with irritation. What else was he supposed to do?

“You’re tasking it with a job,” Thomas said. Theseus snapped at him and found the avian leaning against a wall, grinning. “And job is supposed to be paid.”

“Paid? With what?”

It was like the raccoon was waiting for this question all along. Theseus blinked as she jumped and climbed his arm until she was on his shoulder and staring at something behind his back. Theseus turned his head as much as it was possible with raccoon fur trying to get into his nose and eyes and found her staring at the emerald trinket hanging from his axe.

“Is that what you want?” And upon positive chitter from the raccoon, Theseus’ expression faltered.

“Come on,” he said. Out of anything she could have asked for it had to be the one think Theseus cared about. “You sure do you don’t want any food?”

He pulled out a golden coin out of his pocket and tried offering it, too. The raccoon sank her teeth into Theseus’ finger, not strong enough to draw blood but painful enough to get her point across.

Theseus carefully unattached the trinket from the axe and held it front of his own face, watching the emerald catch the moonlight. His vision focused on the bear plush he didn’t notice himself reaching to.

“You don’t have to,” Thomas voiced behind him.

But Theseus already made his decision. Past is in the past. It wasn’t acceptance yet. Theseus was just choosing what was more important right now.

The raccoon accepted the emerald eagerly, twisting the stone, claws clattering against a smooth surface, and it probably would be less painful if she sunk them directly to his heart.

“It’s probably a huge mistake,” Theseus grumped, “but I’m really trusting you not to scam me.”

The raccoon chittered at him one final time, lunged for a waterpipe attached to the near wall and climbed into a dark window of someone’s attic.

“You talk to animals,” Thomas said. “Which means-”

Theseus snapped at the avian. Thomas’ eye lit up in a way that couldn’t mean any good. Theseus growled, standing up to slap a hand across the avian’s mouth. “Don’t-”

Thomas dodged him easily and triumphantly announced, “Theseus is a Disney princess.”

Chapter Text

The voices in Techno’s head started acting out quite a long before Phil’s crow had found him with the letter.

They did it, sometimes; screamed out of place of things that didn’t make sense, and he was used to ignoring them, but it wasn’t their usual wavering rumble and more of a synchronized screech of a single word, or, rather, a name.

Tommy, his head pounded continuously, and Techno groaned, tugging at his own hair, people staring at him with a mix of concern and question where he stopped in the middle of a busy street.

Chat wasn’t fond of Tommy. Sometimes, they deemed his shenanigans amusing, but a large part of them tent to get annoyed and angry and thus Techno had to suppress the waves of hot irritation that arose with whispers from the voices. For that reason, their concern with the boy was double as confusing for him.

“What’s with Tommy?” he asked. “Give me a clear explanation, please.”

In the cacophony of the voices overlapping there always were a few helpful ones, Techno just had to listen closely not to miss them.

This time, however, the Chat went eerily silent for a few seconds, like they actually decided to think of an answer – something borderline impossible on its own – before exploding with a discordant mix of ‘We don’t know’ and ‘Wrong’.

They went gradually quieter after that and so did Techno’s headache. He continued with his day normally, walking to the city market to trade things he brought from his last trip to the Nether, but there was a sinking feeling in his stomach that put him on edge and his mind kept wandering off to thoughts about Tommy.

It wasn’t unreasonable, Techno learned in few days' time, when one of Phil’s crows tiredly flopped on his shoulder with a message tied to its back.

Evidently, Phil tried to keep the tone of the letter informative, but Techno knew the avian long enough to tell when he was worried from things as little as the choice of his words.

Techno and Tommy were never particularly close. Tommy was always Wilbur’s little brother, following him like a loyal puppy, and Techno was the awkward third wheel who didn’t quite fit into the picture of a happy family.

He clicked with Phil easily, their relationship growing similar to one of close friends rather than a father and an adopted son.

Techno and Wilbur balanced each other naturally like one would expect twin brothers to.

And he and Tommy… They were too different, Techno supposed. He felt a certain degree of responsibility over Tommy, however, and maybe that was the reason he found himself on a ship sailing across the ocean just a few hours later.

***

Techno stood, leaning on the shabby handrails, tuning out of the noises of the crew preparing for the arrival and watching as the town ahead grew from a mere dot to a clumsy cluster of stone and wood buildings.

The voices started chanting Phil’s name long before the ship actually sailed into the port, so he wasn’t surprised when he saw a certain winged silhouette saluting at him mockingly at the other end of the ramp.

“Long time no see, Techno,” Phil smiled.

“Hullo,” Techno rumbled, the corner of his lips tilting upwards against his own will, and he added, for a good measure, “old man.”

Phil snorted. The sound quickly dissolved into contagious laughter. Techno quitted trying to suppress his own grin and stepped forward, squeezing Phil’s extended arm tightly in greeting.

“You didn’t have to come,” Phil said.

“After that letter?” Techno raised a brow. “Not gonna lie, you gave me quite a fright, Phil.”

“About that...”

Phil stepped away before Techno could question his words or decipher the borderline apologetic look the avian gave him. First thing he noticed was a gaze of brown eyes thrown at him from under few locks of curly dark hair. A hand was removed out of the pocket of yellow sweater to wave at him slightly.

“Hi, Techno,” Wilbur said.

Techno had barely enough time to blink as someone barreled into him, quick as a hurricane, and embraced in a tight hug. Only one creature in the entire world had enough courage and impudence for this, “Tommy?”

The boy had to throw his head back to look Techno in the face, but the fierce blue eyes staring back at him, without any doubt, belonged to Tommy.

"Techno!" Tommy grinned. "Glad to see you, big man!"

Techno didn't push him away like he usually would - long contact always made him feel awkward - mostly out of surprise. He intended to ignore the relief he felt over seeing Tommy alive and, as far as he could tell, unharmed. Chat instantly flooded his mind with a tsunami of ‘aw’ sounds, but majority of them whispered to each other confusedly. Weren’t Tommy supposed to be in danger?

"I guess I can say the same about you," Techno answered. His gaze locked onto Wilbur. "But I'll admit, I don't think I am catching up with what's happening right now.”

“A surprise family gathering is the closest thing you could put it,” Wilbur said.

Techno had to take a pause to make sure he heard it right. Tommy finally let go off him, and he took it as an opportunity to face Phil fully. The avian’s wings shuffled under Techno’s frown. “Don’t tell the whole kidnapping story was just an excuse to lure me here.”

“Does that sound like something I would do?” Phil asked.

“Not really,” Techno admitted. “Wilbur, on the other hand...”

The mentioned man glared at him angrily.

“You just came in too late,” he said. “A friend of yours had already helped us to get Tommy back. Do you happen to know anyone by the name of Dream?”

Techno, who completely expected for Skeppy to just appear out of nowhere, had to make sure he heard it right.

“Dream?” he parroted. “I wouldn’t say we’re friends – he is more of an acquaintance. I mean, I met him, like, three times? If anything, it’s just rivalry of reputations.”

Wilbur frowned, “So you do know him, then.”

Techo snapped at Wilbur. He knew Will good enough to know that the way he narrowed his eyes was not only a display of distrust but also of careful calculation he couldn’t put an immediate reason for.

Tommy was not in danger anymore; Dream was somehow here and, apparently, helped in rescuing the boy; Wilbur also got thrown into the mess and held a grudge against Dream - It felt like with every second passing something new appeared to confuse Techno even further.

“I’ll admit, I am a bit lost,” he said. “This whole situation doesn’t make any sense to me.”

Phil put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly, lightly pushing him in the direction of the port.

“There’re a lot of things we have to fill you in,” Phil said. “But let’s get somewhere more private first.”

***

Phil had a friend in town who kindly offered them to stay at their house for a few days.

Despite the ache of exhaustion and pounding of his headache getting progressively worse – with voices even louder and more insistent than usual, he hadn’t got a good sleep in almost a week – Techno insisted on walking there so that they had more time to catch up.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Phil?” Techno asked.

Phil’s wings shuffled quietly upon the question, and he ran a hand through ragged edges of his missing primary feathers.

“Don’t worry about it,” he reassured. “I’ll have a molt soon, and they’ll grow back as if nothing happened at all. Besides, we have much more important things to worry about right now.”

For example, catching Tommy’s kidnappers. The thought that people who dared to hurt his family were still out there, completely scot-free, enraged Techno. The voices swiftly felt the change in his mood, few starting to whisper and demand for blood blood blood but he quickly got ahold of himself and tuned back into the conversation with Phil.

By the time they stood on the front steps of a small stone and spruce house, Techno vaguely learned of everything that happened between Tommy’s disappearance and present day. The only thing Phil didn’t talk to him much about was where did Dream come from and why he suddenly decided to help them. Phil threw a wary glance at the boy. Tommy went upstairs with Wilbur’s gentle nudge, but the avian only talked when both their steps cut off after a sound of a door closing.

“Tommy doesn’t quiet realize the danger he was in and gets upset whenever we bring it up,” Phil said in a low voice. “It’s better if you talk with Dream yourself.”

Phil led him to a small cozy living room, but Techno didn’t immediately recognize Dream in the person sprawled leisurely on the couch.

A bit of a sly, sharp edge to the person’s facial features that made him distantly resemble a fox, narrowed green eyes and dirty-blond hair - all of that was familiar, albeit unusual in the absence of a mask carelessly shifted to one side.

Nothing changed in Dream’s appearance too noticeably since their last meeting, except for a long, ragged scar on the side of his face – the sort of that could appear from a wound left to heal without potions or any treatment at all - but the way Dream moved and handled himself made him seem like a completely different person.

It was especially obvious when he pushed himself up to his feet from his previous position and approached Techno. Dream’s springy, energetic step grew heavier, like one of someone used to the weight of armor pressing them to the ground, and there was a tired hunch in his shoulders that came to people with age and seemed unfitting for a man who was still in his early twenties.

There was also a new, foreign type of sharpness to his gaze that was unnerving Techno. The closest he could put it was a wolf he met in the forest once; right before the starving animal lunged for his throat, his eyes had the same type of fire flickering inside of them: hope in steel frame of cold calculation.

“I knew puberty hit hard, but I didn’t know it could hit someone twice,” Techno said instead of a greeting.

That earned a chuckle from Dream: a short, dry sound.

“Very funny,” he said. “Nice to see you too, Techno.”

Dream extended him a hand, and Techno took it, shaking it awkwardly.

“I heard that you helped to save Tommy,” Techno said.

“I only tracked the kidnappers in the town and distracted them while Wilbur got Tommy. Most of effort was on him and your father.”

Dream smiled, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, and Techno was once again struck by how different Dream seemed. The voices, too, murmured, discussing the strangeness of the man’s behavior between themselves and Techno.

And Techno... Techno himself didn’t know what to make of it. People change, he assumed, and there wasn’t a particular thing he could point out as suspicious in Dream, so he pushed unnecessary thoughts away.

“Still. I wanted to say, thank you.”

“Anything for a good friend,” Dream said. “Though I had no idea that the Blade had a younger brother.”

Technically, Techno had two younger brothers, but he was older than Wilbur just by a few minutes, so that didn’t really count.

“We’re not very close,” Techno admitted. “But Tommy is still family, if not mine, then Phil’s.”

Dream flopped back on the couch, and Techno settled in an armchair on the opposite to him upon the man’s gesture. He put away his sword to rest against a wall.

“So, what are doing here again?” Techno asked. “Last time I heard, you were settling down on your own piece of land. If that’s what being a landlord is like, I think I’m going to pass.”

“It’s all a very lucky coincidence of circumstances,” Dream said. “The thing is, I personally know the guys who kidnapped your brother.”

Techno narrowed his eyes, humming thoughtfully, “Is that so?”

“I’m sure you don’t want me to waste your time, so I’m going to tell you the short story. Those men, they used to be my friends, but turned out, it was all lies and manipulation to use me to their own advantage,” Dream took a pause. “They blew up other people’s homes, committed arson, theft, murder, and other crimes.”

Techno nodded along, though he didn’t care about what happened neither to Dream or other people on his land.

Who was Techno to judge when he himself didn’t find neither of listed things completely unacceptable? In particular circumstances, but still.

The only thing Techno was concerned over with was how and why his family got tangled into this story. Dream seemed to understand it, as he really kept his words brief.

“The point is,” he said. “They are fugitives, and as the owner of the land they escaped from, it was my responsibility to hunt them down and make sure they answered for their crimes.”

“What did they want from Tommy, then?” Techno asked.

“I am not entirely sure,” Dream answered, shrugging. “Probably just saw a loose kid and decided it would be fun to mess around with him – wouldn’t be the first time.”

That sounded... wrong. Techno heard and saw a lot of strange things in his travels, but this, by far, was the most messed up one.

He couldn’t keep the disgust and anger out of his expression, clearly, as Dream nodded, “You understand why I should capture them as soon as possible, then. And I was thinking,” Dream leaned forward, cocking his head to the side, “That you would want to help me.”

Techno already had half a mind of offering his assistance, so he didn’t put much thought into it as he said, “You can count me in.”

“I do have a favor to ask you for, though,” Dream added. Techno gestured him to continue. “I imagine you would want to kill them on spot, but I want you to let me decide what happens to the criminals in the end.”

Techno had to muse over Dream’s words for a bit. A wave of indignation passed through the Chat, but even among them, few reasonable voices reminded, ‘Absolute repocracy.’

As much as Techno’s hand itched to put a sword through the chests of people who hurt his family, he did partially owe Dream for saving Tommy, and this could be a small repayment to make up for it. Besides, it seemed like the man was holding a bigger grudge over these people than he did, and it was only fair to let him have this privilege.

“I think we have a deal,” Dream smirked.

***

Virtually, Dream gave Wilbur no reasons to doubt him.

In a week they travelled together, Dream made up for Wilbur’s lack of survival skills, from lighting fire without a flint and steel to hunting with the crossbow and arrows he brought.

Dream had a hundred of chances to stab him in the back, in one way or another, yet he was nothing if not helpful. And still, there was an unknown feeling, a sixth sense, that just screamed at Wilbur that he shouldn’t trust him.

Maybe it was the story he told, full of so many gaps that it was obvious Dream was hiding something.

Maybe it was his extreme politeness and kindness out of nowhere, too much strain in his words, like he was thinking of them too deeply and far ahead.

Whatever it was, Wilbur kept an eye on Dream as intensely as if something terrible would happen if he let him out of his sight even for a mere minute. Even as he got Tommy back, and Techno confirmed his acquittance with Dream, Wilbur still had his doubts, so he instantly revolted when Phil tried to get him to stay in the house.

“I’m going with you, and that’s not a suggestion, it’s a fact,” he crossed arms on his chest.

“We’re going to be fine,” Phil tried to sooth him. “You’re just overthinking, mate.”

“That’s not just overthinking, that’s paranoia,” Techno added from the other side of the room. He drew his sword, run a finger down the blade, and, satisfied, clicked it back into its sheaths. “Besides, no offense, Will, but you’re useless in battle.”

Wilbur clenched his jaw tight. Techno chuckled awkwardly under his burning stare and was quick to add, “I’m just saying, you’re not very skilled with a sword.”

“I don’t need practice to know how to stab someone with a sharp object. For example, you.”

“It’s not about stabbing,” Phil, ever the mediator, stepped in. “We can’t just leave Tommy here alone. Someone needs to watch over him while we’re gone, just in case.”

Wilbur wanted to argue, he really did. But unfortunately, Phil’s words made sense. If there was something that unnerved Wilbur more than Dream’s presence it was the thought of Tommy going missing again.

“Fine,” he signed. “Just make it quick and come back soon.”

“We will,” Phil reassured him, attaching his bow to a sling and wrapping it around his shoulder and chest. Wilbur reached for the quill full of arrows and passed it to his father and locked the front door when he and Techno left.

Wilbur returned to the bedroom he and Tommy were settled in. He found the boy standing in the middle of it, brushing off his clothes sheepishly and looking suspiciously like he just jumped away from the door.

“You were eavesdropping,” Wilbur concluded.

“No, I was not!” Tommy immediately screeched. “You’re just delusional. I was not-” he threw his hands in the air for emphasis. “I wasn’t eavesdropping!”

“Tommy.”

Wilbur wasn’t buying Tommy’s attempts at denying the obvious, and the boy quickly caught up with that fact, judging by his frown.

“Okay, let’s say I was,” he glared at Wilbur, cocking his head. “So what? Are you going to blame me for wanting to know what will happen to my friends?”

And they were doing this again.

Last few days all Tommy did was argue with Wilbur on that matter. The boy spoke of his kidnappers fondly despite all his and Phil’s attempts to reason with him.

Wilbur didn’t know what frustrated him more: Tommy stubbornly clinging to his illusions or him being so much ready to trust some strangers than his own family.

"They're are not your friends, Tommy,” Wilbur pinched his brows. "They took advantage of your naiveness, of the fact that you’re a child.”

Apparently, that was a wrong thing to say. Tommy’s eyes sparkled, something deeply hurt in his gaze.

“I am,” he snapped. “But it doesn’t mean you have to completely dismiss all my words and opinions!”

Frustration was bubbling deep inside of Wilbur’s chest, “What kind of opinion there can be?” he was an inch away from raising his voice. It already wavered, threatening to spill into a snarl. “They lied to you!”

"Well, you're never completely honest with me either!" Tommy shouted.

And it felt like someone hit Wilbur with a frying pan. Next words died on his tongue, and he stared at the boy, whose face noticeably reddened from anger, with growing concern. Sinking feeling of suspicion creeped up on him somewhere along there, too.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

Tommy retreated into himself while simultaneously trying to straighten out to his full height, like if the boy fought against feeling suddenly small. He froze somewhere in-between, open anger cooling off into something more strained yet threatening.

"Tell me what's going to happen when Phil and Techno get back,” he said.

The question caught Wilbur by surprise, but he didn’t have to answer it as Tommy continued, in unusually cold tone, "You don’t really care about me, you know. Phil took me in just out of pity, and now that I am older, neither of you knows what to do with the obnoxious kid that doesn’t even belong in their family.”

“When Phil and Techno are done clearing their conscience, they will just shove me back into that stupid house, skedaddle out of there and forget about me for another year. “

“And you know what?” Tommy added defiantly, “You're welcome to join them!"

All the remains of anger Wilbur had were completely flooded by Tommy’s words.

He was overwhelmed with the amount of hate on his younger brother’s face and in his voice. Deep down there, behind flaring glances and loud words, were hidden words of suppressed hurt.

Wilbur knew Phil’s and Techno’s absence upset Tommy, but not to this degree. It was easy to forget that they were in this boat together when it was always Wilbur who got openly frustrated when Phil was late of promised arrival date and Tommy who brushed it off and offered to take a walk in the forest or to bake something together.

Tommy looked away, and Wilbur took a step towards him, approaching slowly like one would with a scared animal.

“Tommy-”

Tommy recoiled away from Wilbur, shoving him away with strength the latter didn’t know the boy possessed. “Get away from me.” He continued to retreat backwards until he stammered into a bed in the further corner of the room, where he snarled at Wilbur one last time.

"I don't need you,” he said. “I don't need anyone. You separated me from the only people who really accepted me."

Wilbur didn’t get a chance to interrupt or add anything. Tommy laid on the made bed, facing the wall, and his brother was left to stare, completely lost, at his turned back.

He figured Tommy just needed some time to cool off, but even when anger faltered from the boy’s expression, he still refused to talk to his older brother for another few hours.

At some point his mood seemingly shifted from resentfulness towards Wilbur to general anxiousness over his own thoughts.

When Wilbur came into the room with a plate with food, he found Tommy staring out of the window longingly. If it wasn’t for the decorative bars covering it from the outside, the boy would have probably tried to escape that way already.

Tommy threw the window open, and cool breeze brought smell of salt into the room. Wilbur put the plate on a nightstand, grabbed a blanket from one of the beds and draped it over the boy’s shoulders.

Tommy didn’t discard it, wrapping himself in the fabric tightly, and Wilbur decided to take it as his cue to start a conversation.

“Hey,” Wilbur said. “I wanted to talk to you about earlier.”

Tommy made a sound, something in-between of acknowledgement and discontent. He let his chin fall on top of his crossed arms and leaned over to the sill, staring straight with furrowed brows and simmered lips.

“I’m sorry,” he signed, “I shouldn’t have shouted.”

“No, no,” Wilbur grabbed a chair and dragged it over to sit next to Tommy, “I’m the one who should be sorry. I didn’t know you felt that way, but I should’ve listened closer.”

Wilbur reached to touch Tommy’s hair and scratched his head soothingly, and the boy leaned into the touch, falling limp against his side.

“I can’t speak on Phil’s or Techno’s behalf,” Wilbur said. “But on my own... Tommy, you’re my brother, and I care about you more than anything in the world.”

“But you wanted to leave me,” Tommy said quietly, turning slightly to look Wilbur in the eyes.

“I would never voluntarily leave you,” Wilbur shook his head, “And if something made you think that way, that was just a misunderstanding.”

“Misunderstanding...” Tommy mused.

He pushed himself up into sitting position, slipping away from Wilbur’s touch.

“What’s the matter?”

“You know, I would’ve left either way,” Tommy said, making Wilbur’s heart skip a beat. “Even if Thomas and his brothers didn’t show up, I would’ve still left. It’s not fair that they are getting in trouble because they wanted to help me. What are Phil and Techno going to do if they capture them?”

He sounded genuinely worried, and Wilbur, who was getting irritated by the boy constantly bringing up his new ‘friends’, bit down a remark.

“I don’t know,” he decided to answer. “But it shouldn’t be of your concern.”

Tommy stood up from his seat, blanket slipping off his shoulders and to the floor, but the boy didn’t seem to notice it, pacing the room with newfound energy.

“Do you mean what you said earlier?” Tommy asked. “That you should’ve listened to me?”

“I do.”

“Then do it right now,” Tommy said. “Listen to me. Thomas, Lucid and even Theseus... They just don't seem like bad people. Mistaken, maybe, but not, you know, evil. Maybe it's just a one huge misunderstanding." Tommy's tone dropped again, and he added, "Or maybe it’s not, and Dream is telling the truth. But I really doubt it, because the guy is shady. Whatever it is, I need to talk to Thomas first,” Tommy concluded.

With the statement about Dream Wilbur could certainly agree, and as soon as he did, Tommy’s other assumptions seemed not as... unbelievable. He stood up from his seat as well, gaze flickering between Tommy and the evening sky outside.

"Even if I allowed you to," Wilbur said, frowning, "we don't know where Phil and Techno went. They could be anywhere in the town."

Tommy bit his lip. The light of hope in his eyes died out, and he gripped the base of his hair in frustration. Wilbur was about to come closer to him when they heard a quiet scratching sound.

“What was that?” Tommy blinked.

It was silent for a few seconds, and then the sound repeated, slightly louder and closer this time, from somewhere outside the window. Scratch-scratch-scratch, like tiny claws brushing against stone. Since when did rats started climbing walls?

Wilbur approached the window and peeked out of it warily. He almost jumped out of his own skin when a huge black-and-white muzzle appeared out of nowhere, slipped between the bars and into the room, settling down in the very center brazenly.

"Get away from here!" Wilbur swung a hand at the raccoon to scare it away. Instead of retreating, however, the animal twisted out of the way and bared its teeth at him with a hiss.

Tommy’s untouched dinner still stayed on the bedrest, and Wilbur guessed it was the smell of food that attracted the raccoon. He had half a mind of grabbing a broom or something else to drive the animal out of here, but before he could do anything, Tommy suddenly perked up, “Wait!”

His command was certainly directed at Wilbur, yet the raccoon froze, too. Where it stood still, chittering quietly at Tommy – sounding happy, somehow – both saw something hanging from the animal’s neck. It was a pendant, of sorts, a sharp-edged emerald on a simple string, almost getting lost in the thick neck fur of the raccoon.

It had to be someone’s pet, then, with a very unusual collar – at least that would explain why the raccoon wasn’t afraid of Wilbur at all – but Tommy had other thoughts.

Despite Wilbur’s warning, ‘Tommy!’, he still kneeled in front of the animal and reached for the emerald on its neck. To Wilbur’s surprise, the raccoon didn’t bite the boy, only leaned forward for him to get a better look at the trinket.

“I know this thing,” Tommy said. “It’s Theseus’.” Wilbur vaguely remembered that had to be the raccoon hybrid’s name and... Raccoon hybrid having a raccoon pet. It made sense.

“You came from Theseus, right?” Tommy, meanwhile, went full into a dialogue with the raccoon. Which would have been ridiculous if it wasn’t actually working. The raccoon chattered at him, gently grabbed the sleeve of his shirt with its teeth and pulled Tommy in the direction of the door.

“It’s going to bring us to Theseus,” Tommy said confidently. “Come on, Will.”

Wilbur looked at Tommy and the vague reflection of his own confusion in the boy’s hopeful and pleading eyes.

Finally, Wilbur signed.

“I can’t believe I am doing this,” he said, opening the door.

***

The Moon hang high above their heads, and long shadows grew from under the huddles of crooked warehouses around them.

Dream couldn’t possibly choose a creepier place for the confrontation; Thomas felt like there was something watching him from behind every broken window of abandoned buildings. If the avian took a subconscious step closer to Theseus and Lucid, neither decided to point it out.

"We are all very well-aware that this is a trap,” Thomas stated the obvious; Theseus and Lucid on either side of him gave him confirming nods.

In all honesty, Thomas was terrified out of his mind. It felt like his confrontation with Dream all over again, except this time he had two other versions of himself instead of Tubbo. Whether this addition was a progress or regress Thomas was yet to learn.

"If something goes south, we can always ditch you and run,” Theseus said.

No, that’s regress. That’s definitely regress.

"Very funny." Thomas smacked Theseus with his wing, and the hybrid burst with cackled laugh.

They both were interrupted by an abrupt movement from Lucid: hand snapping to his mask, he gestured them to fall silent. Thomas and Theseus shared a glance, and both pulled out their weapons.

The pause lingered. Lucid looked around slowly like a wary cat. Moonlight slid down the smooth surface of Theseus’ armor, and Thomas became painfully aware of his own bare, if you didn’t count the clothes, body.

"I feel very underarmormed right now,” he whispered.

Theseus hissed, "That's not a real word.”

"The point still stands. Why don't I get to wear any armor?"

"Because we don't have any spare just laying around. Quiet whining, now-”

Blunt end of Lucid’s trident slammed into the paving stone with a deafening clang that echoed through the night. Even before Thomas saw a shadow detaching from one of the warehouses, he knew what Lucid was trying to bring their attention to.

All of Thomas’ fear squeezed itself into a single giant lump in his chest, making his heart skip a beat, and slowly started dissolving through his body when Dream’s figure first came out into the light.

He looked the same as on the day of the festival, plus brand-new diamond chestplate and handle of an axe peeking from behind his shoulder, and Thomas briefly wondered where did Dream take the armor and the weapon from.

It didn’t matter, he decided; neither were enchanted anyway. Even Dream can’t fight three of them at once as unequipped as he was. The thought brought a strong wave of courage to Thomas.

This wasn’t exile. This wasn’t the prison. Dream can’t hurt him anymore.

Thomas repeated it over and over in his head, breathed in deeply and tucked away his wings.

"Dream," Thomas greeted firmly.

"Thomas," Dream echoed back. "That's what you call yourself now, isn't it?"

There was only one person Dream could learn his new name from. Thomas raised his axe, "Where is Tommy?” he asked demandingly. “What did you do to him?"

“Straight to business, I see,” Dream chuckled. "Aren’t you not going to introduce me to your new friends first? Rather rude of you."

"Shut up, or I'm going to make you,” Theseus snarled, and it didn’t go unnoticed past Thomas that the other hybrid stepped directly in-between them, practically cutting off him and Lucid out of Dream’s view.

It didn’t seem like he had to worry about Theseus ditching him in the middle of the battle. Thomas found a moment to cherish the warm feeling that arose within him, only for it to be cut short by pure triumph and malice in the tone of Dream’s next words, “Oh, Tommy’s alright.”

Thomas and Theseus shared a confused glance.

"Tommy's fine,” Dream repeated, louder. “He's not who you should be worried about."

Thomas heard the arrow before he saw it; he staggered back from the swift whistle just in time for the metal tip to strike stone where he stood a moment ago. Theseus let out an alarmed cry as another one followed it, Lucid’s trident slamming it mid-flight.

Two more shadows appeared on the scene. All hope and courage Thomas previously had was gone in an instant when he recognized Techno and Phil in them. The avian was already reaching for another arrow and – this time Thomas was in a too much of open space to dodge it, not mentioning Techno’s red eyes flickering bloodthirstily behind the skull mask.

It all made so much more sense now, how Dream had snuck the message with this place’s address without neither of the trio noticing and why he was so confident in confronting them in the first place.

Thomas felt like an idiot, but what was use of the resentfulness now, especially when his heart feverously slammed into his ribs and his breath shook like he had just ran a marathon through an entire country.

He needed to get away. All three of them needed to get away, because there was no way Thomas was leaving either Theseus or Lucid behind.

Even if it was obvious that Dream, Techno and Phil were surrounding them from all sides, they still could fight their way out of here. If only he could somehow signal his plan to Theseus and -

Oh.

Theseus was painful to look at.

He shrunk himself to sizes that shouldn’t be humanly possible and stared at slowly approaching Techno like a kicked puppy: terrified, yet with infinite loyalty in wide blue eyes.

It was the worst timing ever for Theseus to fall in such a state; there was clearly no use of him right now.

Thomas wanted to be angry with Theseus but the only thing he could feel at that time was pity.

His eye locked on a blooming smirk on Dream’s face. There was surprise and curiosity there, too; like if a very interesting show was unleashing in front of him.

“What’s the matter?” Dream asked. “Not so brave now, huh?”

Thomas clenched his jaw tight. Well, Theseus wasn’t in fighting condition, but he and Lucid were not as easy to discard -

He didn’t finish that thought.

Next thing Thomas knew, something kicked his legs from underneath him, and the world went spinning, and he was flying backwards to the ground, hitting it with a loud ‘oof’ sound.

Pain exploded in the back of his head. His wings ached where they were pressed by the weight of his own body. Thomas blinked, chasing colored circles away, and once his vision cleared up again, he was stunned by the picture unfolding in front of him.

Looming over Thomas and overshadowed by the Moon behind him, a person was pointing his trident at the avian’s chest.

Thomas’ blood ran cold as he and a porcelain mask with a frowning face on it stared at each other in a terrifyingly long moment.

Finally, Thomas was able to get ahold of his voice again.

“Lucid?” he whispered.

Chapter Text

Ironically, it was Lucid – or Tommy, at the time – who gave Dream the idea.

The carving knife, Dream’s own gift at the one-month anniversary of the exile, shuffled down the wood block into smooth circular form.

Tommy’s hands were littered with small scars; his new hobby required a lot of practice, and he had too little care for his own health to bandage and heal the cuts properly.

And why really waste the time when Dream was going to use a healing potion on him anyway?

One sip, and the cuts were gone, only new pinkish skin covering the place of the injury. One sip, and the purple bruises on his face faded into yellowish spots. One sip, and the deep slash of an axe on his throat turned into nothing but a thin pale line.

He deserved it, really. Hiding things from Dream wasn’t a good idea from the very start. It’s better that he came clean on his own; who knows what would happen if Dream had found his secret bunker himself.

Splash potions of healing are great. But they are not regeneration, they only sink into skin and the outer layers. They can’t heal broken bones, for example, or damaged vocal cords.

Tommy’s throat still hurt.

He couldn’t talk normally, either. Tommy’s voice sounded hoarse and ashy and like he had chugged a handful of warm cinder. But it was alright. Dream was probably still mad at him; he didn’t want to hear Tommy’s apologies a week ago; he wouldn’t want them today either.

Thinking of it, the week of utter silence wasn’t bad at all. Dream talked, Tommy listened, without a chance to interrupt or snarl a comment absent-mindedly that would make the man dangerously tilt his head.

Dream wasn’t angry with him throughout these last seven days, and was there anything else Tommy could wish for? He wanted to be a good friend, after all, and good friends don’t make each other upset.

Tommy also didn’t like healing potions. The overdose made him sick to the point he couldn’t eat afterwards, only chug water and puke it right away. Not in front of Dream, of course. Tommy didn’t want to seem ungrateful.

Silence was good.

Maybe Tommy could be silent all the time.

He was so concentrated on carving the last details of the woodwork that he didn’t hear the steps outside of Logstedshire.

“Hello, Tommy,” Dream said, leaning against the doorway.

Tommy’s head shot up. His heart leaped to his throat and fell back again in a sinking feeling of cautiousness. He opened his mouth, closed it again, and settled on an enthusiastic nod instead.

Dream seemed contempt on that, lips curving in a smile, mask shifted aside for half of his face to be shown. That was a good sign. It meant that Dream is in an upbeat mood when he let Tommy see his face.

“Don’t mind me,” he said. “You can continue working.”

Dream settled on a log next to him in a way that they sat in a half-circle around the quietly screeching campfire, curiously extending his neck to watch as Tommy’s hand carefully traced the freshly carved eyes on a mask.

He couldn’t even hope to match Dream’s own work – moreover that it was made of porcelain - but it was as close as a rough wooden copy could get.

Minus the smile. Tommy finished the eyes but not the mouth yet. The smile was Dream’s signature, his symbol, and copying it seemed almost like an insult.

Tommy’s gaze slid to Dream. The man clicked his tongue, “It wouldn’t be complete without a smile, now would it?”

Tommy perked up, and soon a finished wooden mask stared at him from where it was laid on his lap.

“What are you waiting for?” Dream asked. “Try it on.”

Dream barely finished talking, and Tommy put the knife aside to raise the wooden mask to his own face. It laid perfectly against it, covering everything from his forehead to his chin.

When he put the mask aside, there was a light in Dream’s eyes that he couldn’t decipher at the time. Like he just got the most brilliant of ideas.

Tommy was about to shove the mask into fire, but Dream’s hand caught his wrist.

“You don’t have to burn this one,” Dream said. “I like it.”

***

A month later, Tommy got a new mask, a proper porcelain one, along with new clothes and weapons.

Despite the training and sparring sessions they did for the past few weeks, Tommy hasn’t got a chance to practice with tridents before. His attempt to figure out the best stance to throw the weapon from ended up with it missing the target by a heavy mile and Dream chuckling at his disappointed huff.

“Tridents are remains of a lost civilization, drowned thousand years ago,” he said. “They are the only weapons that you can’t make on your own; you have to pick one and readjust it to your own liking.”

He approached Tommy and grabbed his elbow to guide it to a proper throwing angle. The boy fixed his stance, copying Dream’s movement, and let the man readjust the hold of his fingers on the weapon.

Dream stepped away. Tommy pursued his lips, swung and threw the trident. It slammed into the empty armor stand, pinning it to the wall of the weaponry.

Tommy physically brightened up, snapping at Dream in search of approval, and there couldn’t be a better reward than the light smile on the man’s face.

“I think I just had found my trident,” he said.

***

There were people around the SMP growing increasingly disgruntled by Dream’s efforts to bring everyone together. They didn’t like him withholding their pets and items, and fractions and countries actively resisted his attempts to dissolve them.

The wave of disturbance grew only stronger with the imprisonment of the most ardent protectors; remaining former members of L’manburg, El Rapids and Badlands all teamed up to form a resistance against Dream.

With every minute hidden away from their gazes, they were gathering strength and resources; the so-proclaimed fighters for freedom were so good at laying low and avoiding their eyes that they turned into an actual threat. Dream was actively trying to locate their headquarters and Tommy guessed that would be the reason he messaged him to come to Pandora’s Vault.

The keycard slipped back into Tommy’s hand, and he walked through the hallway and into prisoner holding area.

Bad’s white eyes snapped at him from the darkness of one of the cells. Diamond clattered against obsidian in the one next to it. A stray golden feather fell on blackstone floor, probably slipping through the bars of Quackity’s cell above.

Other prisoners haven’t acknowledged Tommy’s appearance in any way, but he still felt a dozen of gazes lock onto him at once.

Each person locked up in here, he laid a hand on being captured on. Tommy passed the cells and tried to ignore the waves of hatred and disgust that were directed at him, but for somewhat reason, even as he disappeared behind the redstone door and further into the hallways, they still echoed with a pang of guilt in him.

Tommy didn’t like visiting Pandora’s Vault, particularly because of that feeling. He had nothing to be sorry for. All he did was obey Dream’s commands. Dream was trying to do what was best for everyone. Tommy kept repeating that to himself over and over, but it did nothing to lift the heavy weight that settled in his chest.

There were bright sides to Pandora’s Vault, too.

Pandora’s Vault meant seeing Sam, and Tommy, quite frankly, liked his company, watching him work with redstone and picking up a thing or two on the craft.

Sam never shouted. Sam spoke to him kindly. Sometimes he asked strange questions, yes, like whether Dream ever hurt him, but he never insisted on receiving an answer when Tommy shrugged his shoulders and hunched on himself in response. So, aside from that, Sam was nice.

And maybe that was why Tommy tensed so much he heard his voice coming in harsh tone from one of the hallways.

“-what you’re doing is wrong. You can’t go around imprisoning people just because they don’t agree with your regime.”

“You’re exaggerating, Sam.”

Tommy should have left the moment Dream started to speak – he wouldn’t want him eavesdropping. Instead, he silently approached the corner and froze next to a wall.

“I’m exaggerating?” Sam raised his voice. “Dream, open your eyes. This morning, I had to lock up Sapnap in one of the cells. It’s Sapnap, Dream! You decided to imprison one of your best friends, for what? For protecting his friends?”

“Quackity’s not just a friend. Sapnap was protecting a terrorist and a criminal. Have you forgotten how Quackity blew up Karl to frame and overthrow Eret?”

“You blew up L’manburg two times, and yet you don’t get any punishment for that, Dream. I don’t care how noble your motives are, terrorism is still terrorism.”

“And you’re the one to talk, the Warden of Pandora’s Vault.” If Sam’s voice was clanging steel, Dream’s was full of poison. “Have you asked what do I need the prison for? Who I am going to keep in here? No, you didn’t. You took the money and jumped into the opportunity to please your ego with working on another complex project.”

There was a pause where only their steps echoed dully down the corridor. They abruptly came to a half just before the corner Tommy was hiding behind.

“Fair enough. You pay me. You pay Punz. What about your protégé? Does he work for you for money? Does he want to work for you at all?”

“Where are you going with this?”

“Exactly where you think I do. The kid’s terrified of you but is suspiciously good at hiding it. As if he is even more afraid of what will happen if he doesn’t.”

“Oh really?”

Tommy shuddered with his entire body when Dream suddenly appeared of him, the ever-smiling mask cocked to one side. There wasn’t any reason to be hiding anymore, so he stepped forward to reveal himself to Sam, too. The man didn’t betray his surprise in any way other than slightly widening his eyes and throwing him an apologetic look. What was he apologizing for?

“Tell Sam he is mistaken,” Dream said. “And that you’re staying with me on your own will.”

Of course, Tommy was.

Dream was his best friend. Dream took care of Tommy when everybody turned their backs on him.

The pause that followed was too lingering, too dangerous. Tommy should have agreed and stood up to defend Dream immediately, so why did he wanted so desperately to turn around and run away?

“Nightmare,” Dream repeated. Angrier, firmer. Tommy shuddered and slowly walked over to Dream’s side.

“Good,” Dream said. “Now, I have a new task for you...”

***

“We caught Nightmare,” Fundy said.

Tommy was shoved forward harshly. Colored circles span in front of his eyes, and bile rose up to his throat. There was no sense of direction nor enough air to fight the nausea and dizziness, and he stumbled over his own foot, slammed into something and fell to his knees.

If there was be one thing Tommy wanted to ask that moment, it was how many potions you actually used on me?

He could feel the heavy poison before anything else; it sank deeply into his skin and blood, and the thick rotten smell squeezed tears out of his eyes. There was a heavy lead drag in his limbs along with burning pains in random parts of his body that could only indicate the presence of harm and weakness potions, too.

Tommy barely could think straight through the fog in his brain; the capturers haven’t even bothered to tie him up, only shoved a bag onto his head – just like that, above the mask – and grabbed him from two sides to drag into unknown direction.

“He fell into the trap, after all,” someone chuckled, low, sharp undertones to the sound. It ended abruptly with a commanding, “Pick him up.”

He was hauled up from the floor harshly and dumped to sit on something. Tommy bit down a whine when his head rolled awkwardly and slammed into the back of the chair, and didn’t try to straighten even when the bag was pulled off from his head.

The place he was brought into looked like an interrogation room. Four walls, no windows, a single light source and the persecutor in the center.

Tommy had to take a moment for his vision to focus, and his breath hitched when he recognized the horned silhouette in front of him.

“I’ve been waiting for this for a long, long time,” Tubbo said. “If you willingly give us all the information on Dream that we want, we may consider letting you live.”

Tommy wasn’t monitoring his expressions, but either something along those lines or the pocketknife Tubbo was fiddling with made him think he would very much enjoy if he didn’t talk right away.

He never thought there would be the day when Tubbo would make shivers run down his spine.

“But before we proceed,” he said coldly. Tommy almost choked from the sheer amount of hate in his brown eyes. “I want to see your face.”

Tubbo he was so close Tommy could touch him if he had enough strength to just lift his own hand.

Fundy flashed somewhere behind the boy, too, but all Tommy saw was the deep concentrated furrow of Tubbo’s brows and a hand reaching for his face.

The door opened. Tommy snapped at the man standing in the doorframe and stiffened.

“Leave him alone,” Sam barked.

He looked angry. Furious, even, in a way Tommy had never seen him before. But that anger turned out to be directed not at him but at his capturers. Sam grabbed Tubbo and weakly shoved him away from Tommy.

"What are you doing, Sam?” Tubbo said, tone close to a yell.

“What are you doing?” Sam growled at him. “What have you even been thinking about?!”

“Dream has to answer for what he did to Tommy, and Nightmare is his right-hand man-”

“He is as much of a victim as any of you are,” Sum cut him off. And then he turned to Tommy. “Are you alright?”

At that moment, Tommy had little care over the poison still circulating in his veins. He raised his weakened hand and pointed at Sam, ‘You. No.’ This was the closest thing he could say to ‘you’re not supposed to be here.’

Sam was one of them, people who conspired against Dream. And if there was something Dream hated more than disobedience, it was disloyalty.

Understanding sipped into Sam’s expression, bared for him to see with the gas mask lowered to his chin. Tommy reached out and tried to shove him away, ‘Go.’ Sam didn’t go. He only squeezed his arm tightly and turned to Quackity and Tubbo.

“It was all a trick,” Sam said. “You didn’t capture him, he let himself be caught.”

***

‘I had a lodestone on me the entire time. You and Punz came tracking me with a compass bind to it, and captured everyone who was in the base at the moment. You ordered me to kill Sam for betraying you.’

Lucid stopped writing for a few seconds before the next sentence. This part was always hard to remember. A lot of things he tried to shove away to the back of his mind, the weight of the weapon in his hands, the calm, accepting expression on Sam’s face, his own horror and doubt.

‘Sam’s death was the final straw,’ he finally added. ‘Few days later, the prison was attacked by a wither. The prisoners got out, and both you and me were killed in the chaos.’

Dream went silent. Throughout Lucid’s entire story, he sat with a deeply thoughtful, careful expression. Judging. Pondering. It felt like he was collecting puzzle pieces together, and if a single one clicked wrong, Lucid’s entire plan would be doomed.

It was a spontaneous decision. Lucid knew an unwinnable fight when he saw one; dozens of scenarios flashed in his mind, and in every single one Theseus and Thomas either ended up badly injured or killed.

Even if they managed to escape all together by some miracle, they still didn’t know where Tommy was, and they would’ve still been actively hunted by Dream and his new goons in the faces of Technoblade and Philza.

Lucid could run on his own, if he wanted to; he knew how to stay out of the sight, yet standing there, surrounded by the enemy, he came to a sudden realization: he would rather put a sword to his own chest than leave either of his friends behind.

So, Lucid did what he thought was the best thing at the time: pretended to switch sides.

They took their weapons. Lucid’s trident, too, but at least he didn’t get tied up and thrown into a shabby warehouse like Thomas and Theseus did, and instead, Dream took him aside and started asking questions.

Lucid didn’t even need to lie to him, and that was the worst part. All the ugly history he had under Dream’s command came out at once. Lucid stole for him, lied, destroyed, kidnapped, threatened, murdered, even, all because he couldn’t muster enough courage to resist and fight back.

Looking back at himself at that time, the only thing Lucid could feel was disgust. Everything he ever stood up, the things that made him who he was, were twisted, broken and rebuild in a wrong way.

Tommy never gave up; Nightmare was a compliant silent puppet.

Tommy gathered strength from his attachments and close ones, and all Nightmare cared for was avoiding pain of Dream’s anger even if it meant throwing others under the bus instead.

The SMP never learned of the real identity of the boy behind the mask and never connected him to Tommy, a fallen hero who died tragically, exiled, alone, a mere sacrifice for the price of peace. Nightmare did Dream’s dirty work and people hated him even more than they did the green bastard himself.

The truth was, Tommy – Nightmare – no, Lucid, was not a good person. But in the past few weeks, it seemed like he could almost pretend he was.

‘Next thing I knew, I was in the past, together with Thomas and Theseus,’ he added. ‘I thought it will be safer to stick around with them for some time, but now that you’re here, I will follow you wherever you need me to.’

Dream mused his words.

Lucid saw the furrow of his brows relaxing, and where the absence of Dream’s mask betrayed his emotions, his own was present and hid the triumphant smile behind solid curtain of porcelain.

“Shame,” Dream finally said. “That Dream from your future had ended like that. But we were both given a great chance to make things right this time. Starting with now.”

Dream stood up from the ground, and Lucid quickly followed sue.

Technoblade and Philza guarded the warehouse while they talked. Lucid withstood the heavy gazes sent his way when he and Dream stopped upon the entrance.

“You’re trusting him, just like that?” Technoblade scoffed.

“Remember the favor, Techno,” Dream calmly said. “This guy’s with me now.”

He pushed the door inside. Dream said something else to Technoblade after that, but Lucid couldn’t hear that nor the creak of the door closing behind them, because all he could see then were Thomas and Theseus.

They looked unharmed, for the most part. Theseus was quick to recoil closer to a wall, but Lucid still caught a glance of his bleeding palms. It seemed like he tried to cut through the rope tying up his wrists behind his back, but his claws were too short to reach them no matter how he twisted his fingers and only managed to slice his own skin in a hurry.

Tommy and Lucid’s hard work of preening Thomas’ wings was completely ruined, feathers now all battered, few broken and loose ones scattered around on the floor from where the avian struggled against his own bindings.

He froze completely on Lucid’s appearance. When Lucid knocked him down earlier, Thomas’ face was just skewed with shock. Now it grew into something simultaneously heavier and sharper, reshaping from I don't understand to I don't believe you would do this. With it came the blame, questions, but more than anything, betrayal.

He could deal so much better if they were only enraged with him, but that particular look panged with guilt in his chest. Lucid staggered back. Dream’s hand steadied him, gripping too close to his neck for his liking.

“Meet my new protégé,” Dream said cheerfully.

“What?”

Lucid bit his lip.

“Believe me, I was as surprised as you are,” Dream chuckled. "Can’t say that the idea never crossed my mind, but you escaped the exile too early for me to proceed with it. Lucid, on the other hand…”

Theseus snapped at Lucid, pursuing his lips. “Is that true?”

Lucid kept his eyes locked onto floor. He didn’t want them to learn like this. He didn’t want them to learn it at all.

Lucid wished so bad there was a way for him to explain himself. If only they could talk to each other mentally, he would’ve let them know that he was just buying them some time.

But would it matter either way, now that they know of Lucid’s past?

Broken trust is like a glass vase shattered into millions of pieces, and it felt like each of them was forced down his throat. Even if they come out of this situation alive, there was no doubt Thomas and Theseus would hate him.

"Loyalty transfers dimensions, it seems.” It took all the self-control Lucid had not to grip and break Dream’s hand that settled on his shoulder. “Lucid is going to help me get my SMP back, for real this time. It shouldn’t be too hard to get rid of Clay and replace him with myself.”

“What about Tommy?” Thomas asked demandingly. “Where is he?”

“I told you Tommy is fine. His family suddenly decided to care for him. Don’t know how long is that going to last, though,” Dream chuckled. “Moreover, I’m considering inviting him and Wilbur over to the SMP.”

“Don’t you dare,” Thomas snarled.

“And who’s going to stop me? You certainly won’t be alive for long enough to do that.”

Lucid’s eyes flickered back to Dream and caught an alarmed look Thomas and Theseus shared between themselves.

“What do you mean?”

Dream smirked. He walked over to Thomas, stopping a foot away from the frozen avian and looming over him in a dark shadow. “I let you live once, and it ended up with my imprisonment.” His voice sounded serious despite the smile. “No, Thomas, I'm not taking any chances this time round."

Thomas yelped as he was yanked to his feet, Dream gripping the collar of his sweater.

Lucid forced himself to stay still, but his mind was racing with thoughts.

This was bad. The whole situation was the furthest thing from perfect, but Lucid hoped that they at least had a little bit more time. They clearly didn’t, as Dream gestured him to grab Theseus, and he had no other choice but to obey.

Improvisation, my good friend.

There was a quick moment when Dream turned away from Lucid. Theseus’ eyes widened just slightly when he felt the handle of the carving knife shoved into his hand.

Dream threw Thomas on the ground in front of the warehouse. When Lucid shoved Theseus into him, the knife was already gone, probably hidden in the sleeve of his shirt.

Lucid hoped the hybrid would have enough time to use it.

“Hold still, and it’s going to be over faster,” Dream said.

One. Dream swung his diamond axe above frozen Thomas. Technoblade watched him carefully, red eyes flashing in the holes of his boar skull mask.

Two. Lucid’s fingers wrapped around the small glass bottle in his pocket.

Three. The potion flew by faster than anybody could react to it, shattered upon the impact with the ground, and the shards disappeared in a cloud of poisonous dark-green smoke.

(Lucid would've preferred to get the weakness potion, but the poison was the easiest to steal. He didn't know what pushed him to do that, maybe some sort of sixth sense that told it would be useful in the future.)

Several people screamed at once, sounds quickly interrupted by abrupt coughs. Theseus managed to cut through the ropes just in time to grab Thomas out of Dream’s axe’s way, and the weapon slammed into the ground instead.

Good. Now Lucid can get to the fun part without being worried they would get hurt.

Lucid stepped through the smoke, inhaling deeply and feeling the thick poison filling and leaving his lungs on each breath freely. His eyes scanned through, catching a glimpse of black feathers and Philza’s pale face. The avian instinct to protect the members of the flock played against him; spread wings shielded Techno, but the green smoke easily slipped through the feathers and sank into his skin and blood. He toppled over, coughing and choking, and Lucid loomed over him frigidly.

One down, two to go.

Dream was Lucid's main target, and he launched at him as soon as he saw the sparkle of diamond armor in the smoke.

A blade of a sword cut through the air at Lucid's left, and he ducked under the launch just in time to avoid Technoblade's sword from shattering his skull.

He jumped from his heels and into a roll, picking up Dream's axe as he sprang to his feet.

Blade of the axe collided with the sword. Porcelain mask met the skull one. Lucid could hear his own breath hitching just a bit under the intent stare of Technoblade's red eyes.

He took the hit, and another one after that as Technoblade kept pushing and advancing on him like an avalanche.

Lucid twisted and dodged out of the blade’s way. He was never one for brutal force in combat. Lucid's priors were always speed and agility. Trident was the perfect weapon for him, but it didn't mean he wasn't skilled with an axe at all.

He blocked another hit. It rang like a bell through his body. Muscles ached from the effort of withstanding the strength of Techno's sword pushing onto his axe. Lucid's foot shifted, barely an inch, and his entire stance crumbled on itself. He dodged to left, sword swiping air just beside his head, almost slicing his ear clean off.

But Techno's punch was already waiting for him. Lucid's vision went white for a moment, and he doubled over on himself from the pain. Sword swiped at his chest. It cut through his hoodie and screeched as it left a long deep mark on the netherite chestplate.

Techno's arm was still thrown forward when the blunt side of Lucid's axe found his shoulder. Something cracked. Techno looked at him dead in the eyes, gripped the dislocated shoulder with one hand and popped it back in place without a flinch.

“Don’t let him get away!” Someone screamed.

Lucid’s gaze flickered towards the voice. The poison smoke settled down, and he saw Thomas chasing after Dream. Theseus was close on his right, gripping the Axe of Peace in one hand and Lucid’s trident in the other.

I’m going to break his neck if he loses it -

Getting distracted was a mistake. Lucid caught the flash of the movement, but was too slow to block the hit. He watched the sword come down and his eyelids fell shut on instinct, trying to protect his eyes.

***

Theseus saw Techno's weapon coming down on Lucid and the exact moment the mask shattered under the force of the hit.

Porcelain exploded into hundreds of pieces that flew by, few cutting the skin on Lucid's face and bouncing off the gloved hands raised to protect it.

He almost lost his balance, dumbfounded by the mask's sudden disappearance. Lucid turned away from Techno on an instinct, and his confused, taken aback expression met Theseus' surprise.

Lucid's eyes... Were shining?

Pupils and white of his eyes merged in monochromatic white glow, shifting slightly with the movement of the ring of blue irises.

Lucid’s entire face had an overly pale, even greyish tint, as if all the colors had been sucked out of it at once.

On the left side, starting from the hairline and passing along the corner of his eye, darkened a web of veined scars. Theseus had somewhat similar marks on his back from a close call with a Wither, except his weren’t as vivid and veined and weren’t glowing faint blue through his skin.

What the hell?

Theseus took in all of that with one look and it was enough to make him freeze.

"You're a hybrid?" he gasped.

A look of utter horror skewed Lucid's face, and he was quick to hide it with his hands, completely uncaring for Techno raising his loaded crossbow at him.

Theseus charged in their direction, but before he made it, a high-pitched yell shattered the night.

"Stop!"

Theseus snapped at the voice. A wave of surprise and relief washed over him.

"Tommy?"

Chapter Text

The only time Thomas had ever flown was when he was falling to his death.

A tower reaching the clouds, harsh wind squeezing tears out of his wide-opened eyes, and gravity pulling him towards the ground, closer and closer into the last hug of his life.

I want to live, his heart beat. And the wings snapped open. Bones and muscles screamed against the momentum, and his brain pounded, up, up, up, but Thomas was falling. The wing folded; he was yanked to one side, thrown harshly into the tower, stone tearing his skin down to muscles and sending him spinning in a hurricane of flesh and feathers and terrified screeches.

Thomas landed on his wing. He wasn't supposed to survive, but he did, with the mere price of flight, because the broken bone never got proper care and healed at an off angle that made it painful to fold it properly. He didn’t think of himself as an avian after that. Just a human with extra appendages on his back that sometimes could serve as comfortable blankets. What is an avian without flight, after all?

Avians are all about family and protecting each other, Phil said to him a lifetime ago. It was a bold statement coming from someone who spent the majority of Thomas’ life ignoring him, in one way or another, so he viewed it with a lion’s share of skepticism, but he started to understand what it means when Tommy went missing and he couldn’t spend a minute without worry churning his insides.

“Thomas!” the boy’s voice rang.

Thomas wasn’t sure what knocked all the air out of him – the hurricane of blond hair and blue eyes slamming into his chest and wrapping thin arms around his torso or the fact it was Tommy, alive and unharmed, who encased him into a tight hug – but he stopped breathing after that and it felt like the entire world ceased to exist.

Family, a voice whispered in the back of his head. Flock.

Thomas called Tommy a brother before, that was their sole cover – technically, a lie – from the very start. He had no one to lie to in his own mind. The chirp slipping through his lips was, more than anything, a sound of hysterical relief, and his own hand was already on the back of Tommy’s head, pressing it into his shoulder. The boy muffled something like a disgruntled kitten, and Thomas burst into quiet laughter.

“What was that again?” he murmured.

Tommy pulled away just enough to throw him a ‘I hate you’re making me say this’ kind of look, but reluctantly said, “I’m glad you’re alright.”

This moment of happiness lasted an infinity and simultaneously no time at all before it was interrupted with a screech, “Tommy, what are you doing?!”

Thomas’ instincts snapped into reality before his mind did. Wings swung wide open to curl around Tommy. Only the boy’s fluffy hair peeked out of the tight cocoon of white and black feathers, Thomas pressing him close protectively with a clicking-rattling-aggressive call thrown at the source of the voice.

Wilbur was the one who shouted. He stood just a few feet away from him, reaching out to yank Tommy back, but retreated warily when Thomas snapped at him. Techno stood just a bit behind, helping Phil to his feet. Despite the fog of dizziness in the avian’s eyes, his gaze was followed Thomas unblinkingly, something akin to understanding in the curve of his brows.

“Will, calm down,” he said, in a soothing tone of his, “Tommy’s fine. Nothing is going to happen to him.”

“But Phil-”

“Just stay back for a bit.”

Wilbur threw another confused look at Phil, but reluctantly retreated backwards. Thomas didn’t understand why Phil suddenly switched to his side; still wary, he fluffed up his feathers, head flickering between three men in front of him, always keeping them in his line of vision.

“It’s alright,” Tommy said, squirming in his hold. Thomas loosened it enough for the boy to spin around to half-face face Techno and the others. “This is Technoblade. He is – well, technically, he is my adoptive brother. And that is Phil,” Tommy’s lips simmered into a thin line, “but I guess you know that already."

Tommy’s relieved expression from earlier turned into a bitter, hurt frown. Thomas hated that he was partially the reason for that. Tommy didn’t shove away the avian’s arm on his shoulder, however. It wasn’t a lost cause yet; Thomas was given a chance to explain himself, and he clung to that hope with desperation of a drowning man, "I do.”

“You knew my family was looking for me. But you didn’t tell me anything.”

"I didn’t.”

“You never mentioned who this Dream guy is, either. I didn't believe what he said about you all, but... You owe me an explanation, big man, and preferably, a truthful one this time."

Mention of Dream made Thomas search for him with his gaze, but the man was nowhere to be found. He probably slipped away during the distraction of Lucid’s mask breaking and Tommy’s appearance afterwards. That was bad. Really, really bad. Thomas's mouth went dry; Theseus, who he didn’t notice standing to the right of himself until now, tensed, too.

They couldn’t just drop everything and search for Dream, either. All the eyes were on him; Tommy, Techno, Wilbur, Phil; the only one looking away was Lucid. With his head tilted forward in a way that chin almost fell to chest and the hood pulled up, a long shadow was cast over his face. Dimply glowing eyes - Lucid? A Wither hybrid? – avoided his gaze shamefully, and Thomas couldn't help the tiniest pang of satisfaction from that.

It was an ugly, vicious and spiteful feeling. Thomas hated himself for it. Lucid had reasons to do what he did, and he bailed them out of the danger. If it wasn’t for him, Thomas could have been dead right now. And yet...

Maybe he’d grown more attached to their little group than he previously admitted. Making friends (flock flock flock) with versions of himself from alternative worlds was the most absurd thing he did in his entire life, but it was real. The attachments, the time they spent together and the emotions. And even if the betrayal was fake, it hurt like real, too.

Thomas had a hard time trusting people as it was, even his closest ones, because it always ended in somewhat of a betrayal. Perhaps he wanted a warning. Some prior reassurance that, in the end, everything would be fine, that there would always be people on his side.

It was selfish of him, Thomas knew. Neither of them was forthcoming about their pasts and demanding more of Lucid that he did of Theseus or himself was straight up unfair, but he couldn’t help but think that the entirety of today’s mess could be avoided if they were more honest with each other. And if he was getting into that, how much of the problems of the past few weeks wouldn’t ever occur if they never lied from the very beginning?

Phil and Techno wouldn’t come chasing after them, at the very least. Which was ironic because the sole reason Thomas proceeded with the kidnapping plan was that he didn’t want to deal with either member of his adoptive family.

Avians were creatures of flight and freedom, and Thomas knew neither. They were also symbols of escape, cowardice, avoidance – everything that was associated with Phil and what he would never want to apply to himself. And, oh well, maybe his nature caught up with him after all. Thomas lied because it was an easier solution to problems that he was too afraid to face, and he had to get onto the short end of the stick of a lie to get reminded of how bitter the aftertaste could be.

Tommy deserved to know the truth. So, Thomas had made the decision.

“Theseus.” The raccoon hybrid snapped at him, ears spiking up and antsy tail freezing where it was twisted in the air, “You and Lucid, go after Dream.”

Lucid took off like he had only waited for a chance of an escape. Theseus, however, shifted from one foot to the other, not quite putting weight on his heels, and his eyes flickered between Thomas and Techno, “Are you sure? But what about-”

“I’ll deal with it,” Thomas reassured. “Now, go.”

And then it was a last doubtful look from the other – no, one of the three – hybrids in their group and Theseus was gone. Leaving Thomas alone against Tommy’s awaiting silence and the boy’s adoptive family staring at him like he was a ticking bomb.

They were not ready for the bomb he was actually going to drop on them.

Thomas let his wings fold back as neatly as his instincts would allow them to. The adrenaline started to wear off, and exhaustion sneaked up on him, growing in the form of cotton filling his head. For a secret as big as he was about to reveal he should have been more nervous, panicky, even but Thomas found a strange sort of calmness in finally letting the weight of truth fall from his shoulders.

“I’ll tell you a short story,” he said. “About a boy with bright eyes and golden hair, who used to live with his family in a cottage hidden deep in the woods. Even though they weren’t related by blood, the boy loved his two older brothers and his father, and they were his entire world.”

Techno and Wilbur shared a look. A slight surprise passed through Phil’s expression. Tommy reached out to pull a strand of his own hair to his face as if trying to check whether his hair was actually golden. Neither commented on the story’s references to reality, but everybody thought of it instantly.

“On a long summer day, the family was spending their time in their backyard. The father was teaching his sons to make Chinese lanterns. At the restless age of seven, the boy couldn’t sit in one place for too long, so he offered his eldest brother to spar together instead. It was a game, just two children messing around with wooden swords. Until it wasn’t.”

Thomas hadn’t even realized the danger he was in. If somebody was to ever ask if he was afraid at that time, staring into the blank expression of Techno’s face, the hazy glow of crimson eyes, he would confidently say that his brother would never hurt him. That was before Doomsday, before the 16th of November and even long before The Pit. Before Thomas learned of Techno’s true colors.

“The father was the first to notice that something was wrong. He came running and snapped the brother out of the trance, and that was how they first learned of the Voices in his head. They named it Chat after the flock of birds that always followed the father around. As if it would make them any less violent or terrifying.”

“I never talked about the voices to anyone but Phil and Wilbur.” Techno interrupted. “How do you know all of that?”

Thomas wasn’t fooled by the monotone rumble; emotions were pressed and crumbled into that flat voice forcefully, making it sound too unnatural, too weaver at the edges. But he wasn’t speaking to Techno right now. His sole attention was on wide-eyed Tommy, “The father tried to help as he could. Travelled in search of a reason and a cure, but to no use. The curse – or the ability, or whatever it was – only grew stronger over the years.”

“And the boy … He never was told what truly happened. The family deemed him too young to share the truth. The only thing he knew was that his father started disappearing, for longer periods each time, and that his older brothers were distancing himself from the boy, too. It made him feel lonely. Unwanted. So, he decided to leave.”

Light faded away from Tommy’s eyes towards the end. His gaze fell to Thomas’ feet, shoulders spiking up to his ears. The avian touched his cheek soothingly.

“And that’s when you come into the story?” Tommy hummed. “You, Theseus and Lucid.”

“No.”

Tommy’s gaze snapped back to him.

“No?”

“In this story, the boy is alone,” Thomas said. “Nobody shows up to help, and it will be almost a year before one of his brothers finally finds him, hundreds and hundreds of miles away from their home.”

“But,“ Tommy frowned, “It doesn’t – I don’t understand. None of that ever happened at all.”

Thomas could feel the confusion, the questions hanging in the air. The blue eyes flickered, up and down and to the sides, like there could be an explanation written in bold letters somewhere around here for the boy to read.

“It didn’t, and it never will,” Thomas said. He took Tommy’s hands into his own and squeezed them gently. “Because it’s not your story, Tommy. It’s mine.”

Thomas let the silence fall, just enough for the shock to settle down, for the ice-cold realization to sink in.

“What?” Tommy croaked.

“I’m you, Tommy,” Thomas murmured in the softest voice he could. “But from the future.”

Chapter Text

Lucid froze in an alleyway, swallowed whole by the shadow of a nearby building, and his gaze flickered between faces of people on a busy street in front of him, but none of them had the poison-green eyes and a thrashed scar like the person he was looking for.

Dream could have slipped into a tavern, into an open window of someone’s house, or blended one with the crowd and was on his way out of the town already. At this point Lucid already knew that he wouldn’t find him. He would have had a chance if he set off earlier, but in the span of the few minutes he spent dumbfounded with surprise and confusion were enough for the man to disappear without a trace.

Lucid bit his own lip hard enough to draw blood. Dream went free, once again an invisible threat looming over them, and in the end, all his effort was wasted for nothing. Theseus and Thomas know of his past now. Not everything, not even the worst parts – where other people had skeletons in their closets, Lucid had an entire cemetery – but the things they learned from Dream’s brief mention were enough to crumble their relationship to an unmendable degree.

A few weeks ago, that wouldn't have been a huge deal. Strangers, even if they are yourself from different timelines, are still strangers, and as much as it would have hurt to see hatred and accusation in yet another person’s eyes, Lucid could have left at any moment without having to face either of his ‘blood family’ ever again.

He wasn’t sure when exactly they turned from strangers to friends. Whether it was when Thomas had offered him to wait out the rain under his wing, or when Tommy decided to learn sign language for no other reason but because he wanted to communicate with Lucid better, or maybe on the day of the festival, where he had to physically force the smile off his own face every time Theseus lost a game and made a comically disgruntled face. Perhaps it was the combination of all the above, a smooth flow of events that led him to where he was now, grieving the friendship and trust he hadn’t had ever since Tubbo had exiled him.

A touch of the wind on his skin was harsh and foreign, one of the many things Lucid long forgot the feeling of. He reached for his face, wincing against the light stinging of a cut left by a shard of his mask. Lucid’s index and middle fingers were stained red when he raised them to his eyes. He rubbed them against his thumb, and the blood turned into coal dust as it dried out, an extra reminder of the fact that he wasn’t quite a human – or alive, for all that matter – anymore.

Lucid still can leave. He will have to. After everything that happened, there was no way Thomas nor Theseus would want him around any longer. The thought panged with sharp, panicked realization that he didn’t want to leave, emotions spiking up to a degree where the faint blue glow under his skin grew strong enough to shine through his clothes.

There was a sound of a sharp inhale, someone's breath hitching in surprise. Lucid snapped at it and met eyes with a young girl staring at him from the end of the alleyway. He took a step back. A familiar motion of adjusting the mask ended with him tugging the hood down to his face in a weak attempt to hide his eyes and scars. The child raised her hand, finger pointed at him and mouth opened in a yell, “Mommy, look!”

Something snapped inside of Lucid, and the fear came flooding in at once. He was out of there before any adults noticed him, but the encounter still left him with a thundering heart and startled him into running and almost stumbling into Theseus on his way out.

The raccoon hybrid yelped as Lucid took a sharp turn to the left and sprinted past him. He was running just for the sake of it, to get away, let his legs carry him somewhere quiet and safe. A part of his mind was aware of the voice calling him from behind. The rest of him was too afraid to reach out to it, whispering of betrayal and danger and punishment.

Lucid messed up badly. It was probably for him to leave on his own. Lucid didn't know if he could withstand getting kicked out while maintaining a straight face.

Thud-tap-thud, his feet striking sparks from the stone pavement.

In and out, air whistled in the lungs full of coal and soot.

'Why do you keep fighting?'

Most of the prisoners of Pandora’s Vault had already given up on the ideas of escape, but time after time, Tubbo managed to startle the alarms. He kept trying even as it became clear that he would never be able to leave the confinement of his own cell and Tommy... Tommy couldn't understand that stubbornness.

Dream was always right. Dream was stronger and you're going to lose no matter what. Then why don't just give up?

Solitude pushes a person to seek company from people they otherwise would never turn to. Tubbo picked up the note Tommy slipped between the bars of the cell instead of tearing it apart like he did on the first days of his imprisonment.

"Tommy would've never give up,” he said, quiet, hesitant, but it felt as though the entire world had crushed on Tommy at once. “He would've fought till the very end – he was an unstoppable force, you know? Nothing could keep him at bay. And I thought that was a bad thing - but I was wrong."

Tubbo pulled his knees up to his chin, voice broken and eyes shining suspiciously in the darkness when he spoke next, "I made a mistake. I shouldn't have - I should have fought for him till the end. And now... He's gone, and it's my fault. And Dream's out there, completely unpunished, because of you."

“Lucid!”

A scream yanked Lucid out of the memory abruptly, and the first thing he became aware of was glinting of the ocean waves a few feet away from him.

Lucid tried to skid to a halt but was too close to the edge to stop in time. He felt claws sinking into his skin through fabric at the same time as the ground disappeared from under his feet. The glove slipped from Lucid's hand, and he expected a slap of icy waves and for water to sink into his clothes as it dragged him deeper and deeper to the bottom.

Instead, someone caught and yanked him back. Lucid lost his balance immediately, barely comprehending anything other than the sheer burn of the touch on his skin. Spikes of fear rushed down from his heart to his wrist, and he scrambled away from the person with a silent scream dying on his lips.

Ears pinned down, tail fluffed up and thrashing from side to side, Theseus was crouched down and staring at his own hands with wide eyes. “You’re actually a Wither,” he muttered, drawing in a sharp breath.

Lucid’s gaze jumped from the claws clenching a glove to his own bare hand to the patch of black skin quickly growing around the raccoon hybrid’s palm and realized, with a gut churning clarity, that he had withered Theseus.

“I didn’t even know that it's possible,” he said. If Lucid didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought Theseus sounded impressed, but Lucid did, and he was sure that the next thing Theseus words leaving his lips would be the fateful words of hatred and disgust.

Part of him had already braced itself, ready and wishing to get over with it, to cut it off like a necrosed limb. Everything else shook internally with dread. Lucid sprang to his feet, an apology formed in his throat but never going past a short whimper.

Theseus raised his hands in the air, "Woah, chill. I got scars worse than that from a Wither chasing me on Doomsday. And that’s when they were supposed to be on our side-” Theseus interrupted himself abruptly when he noticed Lucid’s hands shaking in a frantic attempt to sign ‘sorry’ at him. His expression fell, concerned, “Lucid?”

Theseus took a step forward, and Lucid made a measured one backwards, balancing on the very edge and threatening to topple over into the ocean again.

Theseus froze. "You don't actually think I am mad at you, do you?" he asked carefully.

Lucid swallowed hard.

"Shit," Theseus cursed as the realization sunk into his eyes. Sudden noise almost startled Lucid to jump a foot into the air. Theseus quickly realized his mistake and retreated, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Okay, listen. I am not angry with you or anything, alright?”

Even if Lucid still had his voice, he wouldn’t be able to answer from the way his throat tightened and breath hitched, like all air was sucked out of his lungs at once. ‘No?’

“I’m not,” Theseus confirmed. “It was just unexpected, that’s all. Can we just – talk for a minute?”

His face had an expression Lucid had never seen from him before, something soft and akin to sympathy, a combination that felt weird from usually snarly Theseus but still brought a strange sort of comfort he didn’t know he craved for.

In his panic, Lucid managed to get them into an unfamiliar part of the town, stone pavement taking a sharp turn and skirting the coast in a large semicircle. He would be alright if he fell from the ten feet height separating the edge and the ocean waves below, but it would’ve been a pain to climb back up without any help.

Lucid owed Theseus as much as an explanation. Oh so slowly, he let himself relax and settle down on the ground, cradling his hand. The usually stone-cold skin still burned with the phantom touch of warm fingers. Theseus sat, cross-legged, opposite to him, and Lucid hastened to put the glove back on when it was offered on an extended palm.

"So that's why you're so jumpy about someone touching you,” Theseus said quietly. “It's not that you don't like it, is it? You're afraid of withering someone."

And for a good reason, Lucid grit his teeth, staring at the new wound on Theseus' arm. The black-veined rot finally stopped spreading half-way to his elbow, and the skin around it turned a deadly shade of white that looked all too-like Lucid’s own.

"How did that happen anyway?" Theseus asked.

How did you become a Wither hybrid? was left unsaid.

Lucid stiffened. He pulled his knees up to his chin and looked away. Theseus squirmed uncomfortably in the corner of his vision. Lucid didn’t want him to feel bad, but the topic the raccoon was trying to bring up was the one he wasn’t sure he was ready to talk about yet.

"When I escaped exile, I hid in the darkness of Techno's basement for around a week – mostly unconscious – before he finally caught me,” Theseus said suddenly.

Lucid snapped his gaze back to him and found Theseus absently running a hand through his own hair and ears, “so I'm not sure when exactly did these appear. It's been months and instincts are still a handful to deal with. And I'm only a raccoon,” he chuckled. ”I can't imagine how troublesome your hindbrain must be."

'Murder.'

"What do you mean, murder? Like, craving for blood?"

Lucid decided to let the rest stay unexplained. For no other reason but because it was funny to watch Theseus nervously twitch his ears.

A confession for a confession , he thought, breathing in deeply against the suddenly loud hammering of his heart.

'Lava, ' he finally wrote. I fell, ' he scribbled out the word 'fell', 'was pushed off a bridge in the Nether.'

Theseus went completely silent. Lucid couldn’t even hear his claws clanging quietly against stone, his hand frozen in the air. Theseus seemed like he tried to keep his expression neutral, emotions betrayed only by the hitch of his voice when he asked, “Did it hurt?”

Lucid fought the urge to hide his face in his knees. Another thing he would prefer not to remember again, another phantom sensation that haunted him during days and nights alike.

The absence of the mask felt as sharp as it never did before, a shield Lucid was left vulnerable without. ' I blacked out after a few seconds. When I woke up, I was already like... This.'

Theseus looked at him with sad eyes. Lucid curved a brow when he suddenly unwrapped the scarf around his neck. “Temporary replacement for the mask,” Theseus said, offering him the roll of soft blue fabric and –

He couldn’t understand where this kindness was coming from.

Lucid lied to Theseus, hid things from him, hurt him, even, and after all of that, Theseus didn’t seem to be angry in the slightest. If anything, he looked calmer than during his joking bickering with Thomas.

Theseus was bothering with talking to Lucid. No, more than that, comforting him.

Lucid’s gaze flickered over to the fresh wither wound on Theseus' hand. ' How are you so calm about this?' He snapped.

“What do you mean?”

'I could have killed you.'

"You wouldn't. "

’You don't know me.'

"I am you,” Theseus argued, and a wave of frustration washing over Lucid made him want to scream. He clenched his fists tightly instead, almost breaking the quill in his hands. Why was Theseus making this so difficult?

'You don't understand. I have withered a person to death before. On purpose.’

Silence, at last. Lucid’s heart skipped a beat as Theseus blinked, searching for something in his burning wide eyes.

"Was it Dream?" He asked quietly.

Lucid recoiled, freezing before he could sign a denying, abrupt, ‘No!’, but he could hear porcelain shattering as he slammed Dream’s face into obsidian floor, could see the life flowing out of his eyes, could feel the pulse dying out under the hold of his hands as veins turned black, dying, withering away –

"Then you have nothing to be guilty of,” Theseus concluded.

Theseus made it sound so simple, so evident. A part of Lucid desperately wanted to accept his words. Dream deserved punishment after everything he had done to the members of the SMP and – and to him.

Nightmares of Dream’s cold smile as Lucid was thrown off the bridge and into the lava haunted him every night that he wasn’t tired enough to fall dead asleep. It took a murder attempt for him to finally become lucid and realize that the masked tyrant was not his friend, and the months of their friendship was nothing but abuse.

Ten Withers spawned in front of Pandora’s Vault and the eleventh one in a bright red hoodie and a frowning porcelain mask – Lucid wanted Dream to know he came seeking revenge.

Broken redstone and shattered walls let all the prisoners out of their cells, and there were only two shadows left fighting in the hallway as the building shook with explosions. Lucid knocked out the weapon from Dream’s hands and started choking him, relishing in the feeling of cold seeping from his fingers and slowly killing the spark of life in the thrashing body.

“You’re not any better than me.”

These were Dream’s last words, whispered somewhere along chocked laughter, before the black veins wrapped themselves around his heart and it finally stopped. Flower buds burst through the grey skin of the corpse, wither roses blooming with beauty of coal-black petals, leaving Lucid with a horrified realization that he, for the first time, had taken another person’s life.

Obsidian ceiling finally collapsed on itself, and to this very day, Lucid wasn’t sure if he didn’t have the time to dodge the falling debris or he had let it crash him to death on purpose.

Someone’s shoulder warmly pressed against Lucid’s own. He flinched, snapping out of his thoughts, and found Theseus watching him with brows knitted with concern.

‘You won’t understand.’

Theseus pulled away as Lucid finally took the scarf from him and wrapped it around his lower face. “Listen, I'm not trying to tell you what you should or should not feel about your own actions. I'm not the person to struggle with questions and matters of morality,” he said, “And I’m long past the point of caring whether the things I do are white or black or stripped or whatever. But I do have my regrets. You, me, Thomas - we all did things that we're not proud of in the past."

Lucid bit down his lip and shook his head, a bitter taste on his tongue. ' You haven't killed anyone.’

"I might as well have,” the raccoon said, making Lucid freeze. Theseus clicked his tongue and dismissed the question before he had the time to reach for his quill.

“This,” Theseus held up his injured hand, “Is going to heal. And you – you are going to forgive yourself, eventually. Yourself, you understand? You don’t have to apologize to me. I don't care about what you did or what happened in your past - or future, depending on how you look at it.”

There was a suspicious wrenching feeling in Lucid’s chest, painful yet hopeful. He hid his face in the scarf and hoped that Theseus wouldn’t notice the quick glint of water in his eyes. ‘So, you’re not kicking me out?’

“No!” Theseus snarled. “What even gave you that idea-” He noticed Lucid curling up into himself again and stopped himself abruptly. “Sorry. I just want to make it clear – I consider you my friend, Lucid. And I don’t throw around words like that often, so you better take them very seriously.”

Lucid hesitated. ‘What about Thomas?’

Theseus stood up, extending a hand, and Lucid took it, allowing himself to be pulled up to his feet. “I’m sure he’ll come around, too. And if he doesn’t...” he smirked smugly. “I’ll punch him in the face.”

The edge of Lucid’s lips tilted upwards, ‘Promise?’

Theseus squeezed his hand firmly, “Promise.”

Chapter Text

Not everyone is familiar with the feeling of a baseball bat flying into your face at a lightning speed. Tommy was not, at least, until this very day, and he wouldn’t say he liked the shock very much.
“You’re joking, right?” A chuckle that escaped his lips quickly turned into hysterical laughter. “I mean – future? Time-travel? It can’t be right. That shit doesn’t exist in the real world, does it?”

Thomas’ grip on his hands tightened just a bit. He felt fingers carefully caressing his skin, a soothing movement that resonated with the soft expression on his face. The avian looked like he was announcing someone’s death to him, and that made him realize – Thomas was being dead serious.

“You’re not – “Tommy felt his own breath hitching. “You’re actually implying that –”

Tommy staggered back, suddenly feeling light-headed. Was he going to have a heart attack? Do people pass out from shock? He guessed he was about to find out.

He was caught in time by steady hands on his shoulders. Thomas’ face loomed over him, brows furrowed in concern. Tommy swallowed thickly as his eyes scanned the man’s face frantically, as if meeting him for the first time.

And then that was when he saw. All the little things he noted at the back of his mind but never realized until now: the way Thomas' expressions shifted, the little mischievous sparks in his eye, so dull but still present, the small twitches of his nose that resembled his own when he was worried or confused.

In a mess of scars on the avian’s face none particularly stood out but only until Tommy started purposefully looking for one. Thomas didn’t do as much as flinch when he reached out to him and slowly moved away messy hair to the side to reveal a thin line of a cut – the exact same that aligned his own chin – left by a harsh slap from a tree branch when he was about seven years old.

“I told Wilbur I got it by fighting off a spider,” Tommy said. “And Techno said if I was attacked by an actual spider, there wouldn’t be even shoes of me left and –”

“Wilbur disagreed, saying that I would annoy the spider to death before it could eat me alive,” Thomas finished for him.

Me. Not you. So naturally sounding, like one would expect a person recalling a memory. And that’s what Thomas was doing – listing off things that he knew, that Tommy knew, because they were the same person –

This was odd. This was creepy. It was absolutely absurd but at the same time made so much sense: why it seemed like there was much more going on in Thomas’ head that he allowed to let through and why did it feel at times like Tommy knew him for much longer than the few weeks they spent together.

Thomas’ wings twitched in the background, a mess of grey and black feathers, and Tommy would say he became quite good at reading the avian’s body language: right now, it seemed like he was waiting for something. For his reaction, perhaps.

Words died on his tongue and his mind went completely blank. How was Tommy supposed to react to that?

Helplessly, his gaze wandered off away from Thomas, and only when he saw Wilbur’s wildly stretched face that he remembered that their conversation had an audience.

“You can’t be Tommy,” Wilbur shook his head, in a tone like he was merely denying an excuse, “Tommy’s a human, not an avian.”

“Not… Necessarily,” Thomas replied. “I grew wings when I was sixteen.”

Tommy let that thought sink in for a moment. If Thomas was him, but from the future… Tommy almost tripped over on a flat surface. “Does this mean I’m going to get wings, too?” he asked.

Tommy involuntarily reached for his own back, rubbing skin on his shoulder blades. Nothing. Just normal bones and no signs of anything strange going on there. Not like he had expected the feathered appendages to sprout out of his back at that exact moment, anyway. Tommy had almost two more years till he’s sixteen: did he need to prepare in advance? Maybe go to a tailor and get a few shirts like Phil’s, with holes in the back to put the wings through.

No – Tommy was dumb. Why worry about clothes when there is a flight? Who was going to teach him how to fly? Naturally, Tommy would think of Phil, but in the light of recent events he was leaning more towards Thomas. Thomas was quite a good tutor when he wanted to be. Though Tommy never had seen him fly –

“Tommy.” Apparently, some of these thoughts Tommy had said out loud, because Techno sighed, exasperated. “This random dude shows up and tells us he is you from the future, and that’s what you decide to ask about?”

“Oh excuse me,” Tommy snarled back. “I still don’t understand what the fuck is happening right now and wings are the least confusing thing about the whole ordeal. “

“You can’t be seriously believing all that bullshit –” Wilbur was about to step in, making them both snap in his direction, until Phil’s arm blocked his way.

“Phil?” Techno called.

Phil walked up to Thomas, so quiet, light on his feet that his movements could as well be mistaken for a mere play of shadows, especially with wings behind his shoulders restless, fluttering as if unsure if they should be kept tucked away or wrap around someone protectively.

With brows knitted together and the corners of his lips tugging downwards, Tommy first thought that the expression on Phil’s face was anger. It took a few seconds for him to decipher that but he realized that no, the crow avian didn’t look furious.

He looked sad.

Phil reached out to Thomas, like he was trying to cup his cheek and get a better look on the single blue eye.

Thomas went completely still, not even a shudder of a breath reaching Tommy’s ears, stunned, taken aback but with longing in the way he swayed forward and his eyelids fell, almost letting Phil touch the calloused skin.

"What happened to you?”

Something snapped in Tommy’s mind, an arrow long awaiting to be shot. He couldn’t help but stare at the bandages wrapped around Thomas’ face, covering one eye. Tommy never saw what his other one looked like, but since he had never taken it off he guessed he was completely blind on that side.

Tommy’s insides churned with rising unease. Didn’t that mean that… he was eventually going to lose an eye, too?

There was a quick moment, a flash of something in Thomas’ stare, deeply hurt, torn to pieces and put back together hastily. He blinked it away like one would do with tears, except there was none, only the fire of hatred that lit up with new intensity.

Tommy didn’t think he had ever seen Thomas mad before – actually, properly mad, and not in the exasperatedly annoyed way he usually would be around Theseus – so it startled him a bit when the avian slapped Phil’s hand away.

“That’s none of your fucking business, Philza Minecraft,” he snarled.

Techno reacted instantly. “I would say it is pretty much our business, considering you claim to be Tommy’s doppelganger.”

“Nobody asked for the pig’s opinion,” Thomas snarled. “And I’m not a doppelganger. I am Tommy from one of the versions of the future.”

Techno tilted his head. “One of?”

Before the conflict could escalate any further, they heard steps, and then a short swear as Theseus came to a sudden halt, face red and looking like he had just run an entire marathon. His frown turned into a more or less relaxed scowl when he saw Thomas and Tommy still standing and Techno’s sword drawn away in sheathes.

“Oi, he’s still alive,” he declared. “Lucid, you owe me a coin.”

Tommy haven’t noticed a silhouette shying behind Theseus’ back until it shifted, for a moment long enough for him to make out of familiar features –

Of Lucid without his mask?

Tommy caught a quick glimpse of glowing eyes before Lucid adjusted the scarf wrapped around his face and elbowed Theseus. The raccoon hybrid finally noticed the tense atmosphere hanging in the air, Wilbur and Techno sharing a look and Phil retreating away from Thomas with both avians’ wings tucked away protectively.

“Have we missed on something important?” Theseus asked.

“I have told them the truth,” Thomas said. “About who we are.”

Tommy’s mouth went dry. His eyes flickered between his three friends, between the same blonde hair and familiar features and the same wary gazes, and a guess he didn’t know whether he liked or not came down on him slowly.

“If you are me from the future,” he said, “then Theseus and Lucid are – “

The silence that followed his half-formed question was the loudest answer of them all. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Hi, Tommy, I’m Tommy,” Thomas said. “Have you met Tommy and Tommy yet?”

Theseus rolled his eyes. “You have been waiting ages to tell this joke, haven’t you?”

“You know me so well,” Thomas smirked. “Since, you know, we are the same person.”

Theseus sighed. “You’re an insufferable bitch.”

“Why are you calling yourself a bitch?”

“Please, for the love of everything, stop.”

In their bickering, Thomas and Theseus seemed to completely forget where they were. That was until Techno’s voice broke through the argument, “Where is Dream?”

Thomas went silent and threw a wary look at Theseus, and upon receiving a disconfirming shake of his head, the avian’s wings drew closer anxiously only to spread again to wrap around them.

Tommy found himself absently leaning into their shield even as thoughts span frantically in his head.

“Alright,” Thomas said. “I would be lying if I said I enjoyed your company, so let me excuse us all from the formalities and take me, me, the other me and myself out of this awkward situation.”

Tommy felt a hand on his arm and, still not quiet processing it, almost let himself be led away. Wilbur interfered before it could have happened, “You can’t just kidnap him, again.”

“Why not?” Theseus raised a brow.

“Because that’s my brother. Phil’s adoptive son.”

“Not formally, no,” Thomas said. “Phil doesn’t have any documents to confirm that, so Tommy is open for adoption.”

I am?

“So, you know, I’m adopting him.”

You are?

“You can’t adopt yourself,” Techno deadpanned.

“Technically, he can,” Theseus crossed arms on his chest. “But that’s called emancipation.”

“Well then,” Thomas whirled around to face Tommy, “Congratulations! You have been emancipated.”

They met eyes and that was when Thomas finally noticed his wide-eyed, pale expression. The smirk on the avian’s face quickly turned into a frown of concern. “Tommy, are you alright?”

A part of Tommy wanted to say, no, I’m not. Too much information was dumped on him at once. Tommy felt like he was not processing half of the things that he was supposed to, and Wilbur and Techno’s gazes in the corner of his vision burning into him weren’t of much help. He knew they were directed more at Thomas than himself, but… wasn’t that technically the same thing?

Theseus and Thomas were Tommy.

Lucid was Tommy, too.

Or at least they were versions of him from possible futures, which was just a more complicated way of saying that he could become one of them in the span of a few years.

Tommy just understood that he had never asked either of the trio about their age. He guessed they were around their early twenties – old, but certainly not as old as Phil and maybe just a bit younger that Wilbur and Techno, which meant that he had around six years before –

Before what? Before he loses an eye and partially his vision? Six years before Tommy becomes mute? Six years before whatever happened that made Theseus so skeptic and paranoid about everything?

Tommy was more observant than people gave him credit for. Granted, he often hadn’t got a single clue on what particularly he was seeing – but it didn’t slip away from his attention how dead-empty and infinitely tired his friends’ faces had fallen when they didn’t know he was looking at them. That was the side of the trio that he didn’t recognize in himself – and that he didn’t want to recognize, ever.

“Thomas, how old are you?” he asked.

“Twenty-one,” the avian said.

And then Thomas was only looking at Tommy, unblinking, stiff, and the boy instantly knew that he was lying and for some reason wanted him to be the only one – excluding Theseus and Lucid – to know that.

But why? Didn’t he trust his family with the truth?

Tommy instantly felt stupid for even asking that question in the first place. Simple answer: he didn’t. Tommy just saw and heard the two avians’ confrontation, and as short as it was, it clearly had shown that Thomas didn’t feel any familial feelings towards Phil. More than that, he wasn’t any less hostile with Wilbur and Techno.

Why, though, was a completely different question, one that made Tommy cold despite the feathers shielding him away from the chilly evening breeze.

“I need to know,” he said quietly, forcing everyone to fall silent to try and listen to him. Thomas was the only one close enough to hear it, and Theseus did too, his raccoon ears flickering anxiously, “What happens to me in the future?”

“I can’t tell you that. I’m sorry.”

Thomas’ looked like saying that had brought him physical pain. Tommy could almost feel that ache in his own chest, too. Could there be a scarier answer in this situation? For his future to be so bad that Thomas even refused to talk about it?

Tommy drew in a shaky breath. Panic threatened to swallow him whole. He backed away from Thomas, feathers brushing against his shoulder as he escaped the wings’ embrace. “Why not?”

Just like with the voices in Techno’s head or whatever thing he had going on, the so-called adults didn’t trust him enough to tell the truth. Like it wasn’t concerning him at all. Maybe there was something in the way Tommy’s eyes kept shifting between two groups that made Thomas realize his sequence of thoughts. “It’s not about that – “

“I don’t see the difference.” Tommy cut him off, desperately trying to keep his voice from wavering at the edges.

He continued retreating, step by step, until his back met a wall and he pressed against it. Six people all stared at him at once with the different extents of worry and confusion.

Techno, Phil and Wilbur didn’t hear Tommy’s question as a whole and lacked the context of the conversation, and he certainly wouldn’t be the one to fill them in.

“Tommy – “

"Leave me alone!" Tommy yelled.

Thomas instantly recoiled, wings tucking in and expression falling like Tommy's words had physically slapped him in the face.

He hated how heartbroken Thomas looked at that moment. He didn't like making his friends upset, but this was too much. Too scary for him to deal with right now.

Tommy curled up on himself and looked away, voice dropping until it was barely louder than a whisper. "Please. Let's just go home now."

He didn’t think much of the fact that it was miles and miles away from where he currently stood and whether that it could be still considered his home, but Phil nodded, anyway.

“We’re staying in a house not so far from here.” He tilted his head slightly at Thomas, “Consider coming together with us. I think we have a lot to talk about.”

Thomas frowned, but then his gaze fell on Tommy’s hunched figure. “Fine,” he bit his lip. “Let it be your way.”

***

Tommy ran off upstairs as soon as they entered the house. Wilbur went to check up on him and returned less than a minute later, declaring grimly, “He locked the door and won’t let me in.”

The albatross avian looked like he wanted to follow the boy, but hesitated on the second step, nervously gripping the railings.

“Let him have some space,” Phil suggested. “That’s a lot to take in at once.”

The albatross gave him a side-look, almost provoking in the way he snarled, but Phil didn’t bite it and kept his expression neutral and calm, even though his insides were the furthest possible from relaxed.

Phil’s instincts were going crazy. His emotions switched several times a second, a contrast of ice and lava running through his veins. It was long since Phil had last met another avian and even longer a one who would be so openly hostile towards him, and the crow part of his brain hesitated between answering with the same hisses and growls that lined the albatross’ voice or letting out a noise of confusion because –

Flock?

The thing about avians, they are all about family: once they start considering someone a part of it, it is virtually impossible to revoke. Techno was part of Phil’s flock, as well as Wilbur and Tommy and now, by extension, his instincts were trying to include the three time-travelers into it, too, only to clash with cold fire of the other avian’s gaze.

Avian against an avian, flock against flock. Phil can tell apart a simply snappy bird from the one that has a family to protect. The first one is wary, still, and will take flight at the first sign of a real threat; the other one will throw itself into risks if that’s what it takes to protect its flock or nest.

Phil saw that desperation in the way the albatross was shielding away Tommy, wings slightly spread and hovering over him. He was doing the same, still, even in the confined space of the small living room. When Phil gestured them at the couch, the albatross dropped sternly in the center, back straight, hands on his laps, just as if waiting to take off at any moment.

The raccoon hybrid sat on his right, and his gaze lingered a bit on the feverish light in the ice-blue eyes, one clawed hand tapping on his knee and the other fiddling with something – coins, judging by the clatter – in his pocket. Phil still remembered his fight the other day, his own sliced off flight feathers, but now that he knew that the hybrid was Tommy, he couldn’t help the painful wrench of sympathy in his chest.

“Is there something I can help you with?” he asked softly.

The hybrid raised his gaze, stared at him with wide eyes, but the albatross cut in before he could open his mouth, “We need bandages and a regeneration potion for Theseus’ cuts.”

Phil nodded, albeit lingering a bit on the haunted expression on the raccoon hybrid’s face. “I’ll go get them from the kitchen.”

When he returned, he caught a glimpse of something red flashing on the flight of stairs. The silent guy in a hoodie disappeared on the second floor just as Techno stepped into the living room in plain shirt and pants; the cape, mask and weapons – excluding a dagger strapped to his ankle – were all left in the hallway. Despite having plenty of chairs in the dining room next door, Techno preferred to lean against a wall, massaging his temples.

Chat almost drove Phil crazy on their way back to the house with the thousands of questions he didn’t have answers to, so he commanded them all to stay outside for the night. Techno didn’t have an option to just turn off the voices in his head. Phil could only wince in sympathy, knowing all too-well the rising headache that was probably pounding in his skull.

He passed the potion bottle and the bandages to the albatross. He turned to Theseus and grabbed his wrist unceremoniously. The raccoon finally snapped out of the trance he was previously in and tried to pull it with his hand from the grip, “I don’t need potions. I am fine.”

The albatross smacked him lightly. “And I am married to the Queen. Stay still or I’m going to force the entire bottle down your throat.”

Phil settled on an armchair opposite to the time-travelers. His son, after some hesitation, sat down on the one next to him. While he and Techno more or less accepted the absurdity of the situation, Wilbur’s face still bore the same expression of skeptic disbelief, and Phil couldn’t say he blamed him.

A part of him wondered if everything that happened in the span of a few hours was just a weird fever dream. Time-travel was impossible. On the other hand, so was living a thousand years without ever aging a single day, so Phil wasn’t the person to speak about improbabilities.

"So, Tommy - "

"Thomas is fine."

“Thomas,” the name sounded weird to Phil’s ears. “How did you end up here, in the past?”

“A funny purple man helped us,” Thomas said.

Wilbur sent him an agitated look, “What kind of answer is that?”

“The only one you will get out of me.”

“Did the funny purple man help Dream, too?” Techno cut in, raising a brow. ”And how many of the things he told about you are true?”

“Techno,” Phil scolded. He wanted to start the conversation from afar so as not to alert Thomas, but these plans were clearly out of commission now.

“What?” Techno raised a brow. “I’m asking the real questions here.”

Thomas and Theseus shared a look, their expressions darkening. “It’s up to you to decide whether you believe Dream or not,” Thomas said. “But let me remind you how that ended the last time.”

Phil clenched his jaw tighter against the pang of guilt in his chest. The realization that he had almost let Dream kill Tommy - even if it was his version from the future - was going to haunt for weeks to come. He imagined what could have happened if he only learned of the avian’s true identity after his murder and echo of that horror was enough to make him shudder wholly with his wings.

“As for the future, I’m not going to tell you anything else,” Thomas said, slightly relaxing. “Because then it might disrupt the predestined sequence of events, changing the future and cause chaos that will lead to inevitable doom of the entire multiverse.”

Thomas said it all with a straight face and firm voice and, for a moment, Phil had almost believed it, “Really?”

“No,” Theseus declared nonchalantly, “he’s just making up excuses so that he can dodge your questions.”

“Theseus!” Thomas finished up bandaging Theseus’ hand, a bit too tightly than necessary, making the raccoon let out a startled yelp. “Whose side are you even on?”

“The one called logic,” Theseus threw him a pointed look. “You should try it some time.”

“Traitor.” The avian shoved the rest of the potion into his face. Theseus took and downed it one go, while Thomas continued to grump under his breath. “When I agreed to talk, I wasn’t signing up for an interrogation.”

“You can’t just drop a bomb like that on someone and expect them not to have a thousand questions,” Techno scoffed.

Theseus flinched and tried to pass it off as a shrug. Phil wouldn’t have even caught that if he wasn’t staring directly at the hybrid at that moment. Thomas quickly shielded Theseus away with his wing and snarled, “You can’t get someone almost killed and then expect them to be friendly with you.”

“As far as we knew, someone just kidnapped Tommy. And instead of, I don’t know, telling us the truth from the very start, you kept trying to run away from us. How could we possibly know that you are all time-travelers?”

“Oh well, excuse me for my lack of trust for you,” Thomas snapped. “We’re not exactly on the best terms in the future.”

This was it. Phil rustled his feathers, trying not to give up how fast his heart started to pound.

“What do you mean, not on the best terms?” Wilbur asked.

Anger drained out of Thomas’ face, replaced by strained neutrality. “Everyone decided to do their own thing, I guess. I haven’t seen either of you three in months.”

It was hard to imagine Tommy and Wilbur ever drifting apart. The younger boy clung to his brother in a way some people didn’t to their own lives. Seven years seemed like nothing to Phil – but that was half of Tommy’s life. People can change, he supposed.

Theseus lowered his gaze to the floor, shoulders spiking up to his ears. “Months,” he echoed, not sounding as confirming as he did strained.

Theseus looked tired in a bone-deep exhausted way. His tail curled up around himself and his ears flat against his head. Thomas put a hand on his back and rubbed comforting circles on it. Phil couldn’t help but think that there was something else going on here that he wasn’t quite understanding. He decided not to press it, for now, as for the fear of scaring them off even further.

“It’s been a long day for everyone,” he said carefully. “We have a spare room upstairs. You can stay the night here, if you want.”

Thomas opened his mouth like he was about to refuse. One glimpse at Theseus made him close his lips shut and press them into a thin line.

“One night,” he said. “And then we’re leaving early in the morning.”

Chapter Text

The scene downstairs felt like sitting on a ticking bomb. Ever peaceful Thomas getting progressively angrier within each minute, and snappy Theseus falling quiet and stiff – their unusual behavior was unnerving Lucid to the degree where his instincts started to scream at him to get out.

He knew he wasn’t in any danger; the raccoon hybrid’s words from their conversation earlier were still echoing strong in his ears, and yet he couldn’t help the pounding of his heart. Lucid was calm where he could predict other people’s actions – he was good at figuring out where and when he can push people without risking making them snap, but when he couldn’t, when they behaved outside of their usual patterns – that’s where fear started to swell deep in his chest.

Lucid was falling into his old habits and it made him angry to the degree where he had to physically fight the urge to go and slam his forehead against the closest wall he could find. He handled it, though. Not the first time Lucid had to come face to face with the pathetic image of his former self. He would’ve pushed through the panic, just to prove himself that he could – so it wasn’t the fear that made him run upstairs as soon as he saw an opportunity for that.

Tommy asked to leave him alone. Thomas and Theseus backed off, along with the boy’s so-called family. Lucid knew, better than anyone else, that when someone feels confused and betrayed, the worst thing you could do is to let them come to wrong conclusions. It will hurt even more, then, like when he realized that months of his crippling loneliness could have been prevented by a single conversation.

He knocked on the door. It was silent on the other side, even when Lucid pressed an ear against it to listen closer. Lucid thought that Tommy might have fallen asleep already, but he knocked again, just in case he was still awake, and this time there was shuffling and a muffled voice, “Leave me alone, Wilbur.”

‘Tommy, it’s me.’ words were formed on his lips but never got to turn into sound. Lucid’s voice, good for nothing and broken thing, stayed trapped inside his throat. He never really got used to this – the moments when he almost forgets that it’s not accessible to him anymore, only for the reality to slap him harshly across his face. Lucid was tired and shaken up as it was, and the realization hit much worse than it usually did. In the passing moment of desperation, he pressed his forehead against the door with a quiet thud. The sound echoed down the corridor. Lucid turned his head instinctively, his eyes falling on a window at the end of it, just the right size for him to climb through.

Tommy has been sitting on the window ledge, a blanket pulled over his shoulders. His eyes were closed but his breaths were uneven, betraying that he was awake, haunted by the reality that shouldn’t have ever come down on him in the first place.

Lucid fell flat on his stomach, balancing on the very edge as he hung over the roof upside-down. He didn’t have to knock this time. Lucid blocked off the moonlight with his body, casting a shadow into the room, one that Tommy noticed even through his closed eyelids. The boy recoiled backwards, throwing himself off the ledge. Lucid caught a glance of the wild blue eyes before Tommy fell on the floor.

The swears were loud. Like, hearing-through-the-closed-window type of loud. The crown of Tommy’s disheveled hair was the first thing that peeked from behind the ledge. Initial shock wore off when he finally recognized Lucid, making him look less like a startled animal and more like a simply spooked child.

The window was opened. “What the fuck, Lucid,” Tommy said.

Tommy punched Lucid’s arm lightly. Lucid tilted his head in confusion. For a person used to regular beatings in the past, that was like a mosquito bite, but he still wanted to know what specifically the boy was angry at him for.

Tommy seemed to read his mind. “Do you have any idea how scary you look?” he said, sucking in a wheezing breath and covering his face with his hands for a moment. “Hanging there upside-down like a bat, with your eyes all shining and shit? You almost gave me a fucking heart attack.”

‘Sorry,’ Lucid signed.

A pause occurred between them. Long silence unnerved both Lucid and Tommy with, but neither could gather enough courage to break it first. Tommy looked away. Lucid continued to hang there, thoughts running a mile a minute. Another him, from another life, would’ve tried to fill the awkward emptiness with rumble, or start a mindless conversation. That was before Lucid had lost both of these abilities.

Finally, Tommy gave up. “How are you doing that, anyway?” The wariness with which his eyes traced Lucid’s movements and face quickly turned into curiosity. Tommy peeked out of the window. Lucid pushed himself further down the edge, tilted forward for a split second – and froze, balancing above twenty feet of emptiness between him and the hard ground of the house’s inner garden.

“Aren’t you afraid of falling off?” Tommy asked. His voice was lined on the edge of worry and awe when Lucid spread his arms wide and waved confidently up and down. ‘I am a helicopter,’ he thought with childish carelessness.

The loose knot of the scarf around his face came undone faster than Lucid could hiccup. It brushed his nose and slipped from his fingers when he tried to catch it mid-air. Tommy lunged forward, almost throwing himself out of the window – just far enough to grab it in time.

“I got it!” he yelped with triumph, creasing the fabric into his fist, but fell short when he tilted his head upwards and came face-to-face with Lucid. For a moment, his expression got skewed with emotions – confusion, surprise, fear. Lucid didn’t bother to see the rest. The scarf was long forgotten as he staggered back, pulling himself back out and disappearing at the roof in a moment as long as it took Tommy to yell, “Wait!”

Despite the urge to run and hide, Lucid hesitated. For long enough to see Tommy recklessly climbing out after him. He didn’t even get to grab the eave before he slipped on the ledge. Tommy’s eyes widened as his back stumbled into nothing but cold evening air. Lucid threw himself forward. The collar of the boy’s shirt crackled but bore the weight, staying intact even as Tommy swung his legs in the air helplessly.

To his credit, Tommy didn’t scream despite the fact he could have easily broken his neck from that fall. Lucid might have got a lecture of a lifetime from Thomas if the avian had caught him dragging the boy slowly up to the roof. He dropped Tommy carefully even as though his body ached from effort – the boy wasn’t exactly as weighing as little as a matchbox – and sat down next to him.

Tommy laid in silence for a long minute, as if his mind just started catching up to what happened. “I think my blood pressure just dropped,” the boy announced, pale but with an idiotic smile on his face. The spike of momentary worry in Lucid ceased to exist when Tommy shot upright on his elbows, “I want to try that again!”

Lucid raised a brow. Tommy shrank in size under his intent stare, “Maybe some other time,” he agreed. Tommy’s gaze fell back to his own slightly shaking hands and the scarf clenched in one of them. Lucid remembered belatedly how they got into this situation in the first place. The hood that slipped off in a hurry was pulled back over his head. Running was not an option when he was risking Tommy falling off the roof again.

“I’m sorry,” Tommy’s voice was full of sincerity. Enough to make Lucid throw a glance at him and get taken aback by his regretful expression. “I'm sorry for staring,” Tommy repeated, stronger, reassuring, “I was just not expecting that."

Lucid sighed. Pulled out the notebook, ‘for me to be that ugly?’

“No!” Tommy shook his head furiously. “For us to look that much alike. Or not alike. I don’t – I didn’t know you’re a hybrid, too.”

Tommy looked lost. Lucid squirmed in his place, his bitterness washed over by newfound guilt. Tommy was the one who almost had a breakdown less than half an hour ago. Why was he getting so defensive about his own appearance when Tommy was dealing with something much heavier than that? Lucid hesitantly reached out to him and squeezed his wrist reassuringly.

Tommy nodded with gratitude and let himself fall flat on his back again. “This is all too confusing,” he confessed. With every word he said his shoulders seemed to relax, strain in his muscles melting away. “Just yesterday, you were my friends, the random guys I genuinely like spending time with – and today? Today, time-travel has gotten real. I may not be entirely human, somehow there is more than one variation of the future and me, me, and the other me had left their timelines to… to what? Adopt me?”

Tommy rubbed his face with his hands and chuckled hysterically. He opened his mouth to say something – the expression was painfully familiar, one of rushed words and thoughtless decisions – and closed it before a sound could make its way out of his lips.

Lucid didn’t like it. Something writhed uncomfortably inside of him. 'There is more you're not telling me,’ he wrote. ‘Let it out.'

Hesitance held Tommy back for a few more seconds. Lucid saw the ice breaking, the doubt cracking, and when it crumbled, emotions came flooding in.

"You're just so... sad,” Tommy blurted out. “Thomas, Theseus, you. I used to notice that before, but now… it’s almost as if I am sharing it with you. And none of you are telling me what’s wrong, and it unnerves me, and it’s – it’s just scary. Not knowing what exactly is going to happen to me but seeing the way it ends.”

Lucid listened, carefully, patiently. Tommy squirmed closer to him as he spoke, seemingly not noticing that himself. The heat of warm skin so close to him it was almost burning. Lucid didn’t move for the fear of scaring Tommy away.

‘Nobody knows what’s going to happen to you.’

“But you’re from the future – “Tommy started, Lucid interrupted him by a mere gesture.

‘So?’

“What do you mean, so?”

‘Thomas and Theseus are from the future, too. Do we look very similar to you?’

“Well,” Tommy said. “To a degree.”

‘Would you say that we are all the same person?’ Lucid kept pressing. Tommy fell into deep thought, tilted his head in doubt…

“No,” he admitted. “That even feels weird to think about. Imagine yourself with Theseus’ ears and tail and with Thomas’ haircut. That would look ridiculous.”

Lucid imagined. It made him want to throw up there and then. ‘Thank you. No’ he signed. He’d rather just. Die. Tommy got one look at his expression and burst into a hiccupping laugh. Lucid couldn’t help but join in. Only when Tommy wiggled around to look at him fully that he understood that this was the first time the boy saw his laughing face.

Lucid’s chuckles came to an abrupt stop. Tommy realized his mistake quickly. He looked away and leaned his head to rest against Lucid’s thigh. Lucid stiffened. The contact, so close and far away at the same time, made wolves howl in longing inside him. Lucid wanted to urge Tommy closer, to let him lean against his shoulder. When was the last time someone was so relaxed and trusting around him? When was the last time Lucid could be so relaxed and trusting with someone else?

‘As much as Thomas enjoys joking about it, we're not the same person. What happened to me, to Thomas and Theseus - we're not going to let any of that happen to you.’ Lucid squeezed Tommy’s shoulder tightly in a silent promise, one that he would rather die than ever break. The boy seemed to feel the weight he put into these words, doubt melting away from his creased forehead only to return a moment later.

"But you won't tell me what exactly you are trying to prevent, will you?" Tommy asked, swallowing hard. He sounded bitter but accepting at the same time. His words lacked the anger they previously were laced with. “Why?”

Lucid felt like this wasn’t quite fair. That he owed Tommy some sort of explanation. A long pause, and then, ‘I’m afraid.’

“Afraid of what?” Tommy asked, perking up.

Lucid pulled his knees up to his chest. He felt a knot tying up inside of him, wrenching, writhing, painful in a way that a physical wound never could be. Lucid was afraid of things too many to count or to list, many of which already happened to him. He knew how it feels – to be hated, to be thrown away, to be rejected or ignored or pushed away – and it made him, ultimately, afraid of these things happening to him again in the future.

It was quiet, for a second, nothing but distant hum of ocean waves interrupting the silence, until warm arms carefully encased him from behind – he was being hugged. Lucid’s brain stopped functioning for a bit. There was a sound of someone gasping, and it took him a while to realize he was the one who made it.

It was surreal. Scary. But it wasn’t hate. This wasn’t rejection, either, but something completely opposite, that made hot tears swell in Lucid’s eyes. With the last self-control of himself he had left, he kept himself from crying, though he suspected that wasn’t of much use when his entire body started shaking.

F-fuck. Lucid tried to remember the last time someone had hugged him like that – comforting, warm, safe – he couldn’t, and that only made him shudder hard. His reaction must have startled Tommy. The boy squirmed with worry and tried to pull away.

“Don’t.”

Tommy froze, gasping. Lucid did, too. His foggy brain couldn’t register what was wrong, but the boy’s reaction made him alert by extension. He wasn’t even sure if he heard Tommy right – it sounded like ‘don’t’, but very vague, hoarse and choking, barely recognizable to his ears.

‘What do you mean?’ he quickly scribbled through his blurry vision. Tommy shuffled closer. Lucid would turn away to hide the mess his face had become into, but the steel of seriousness in the blue eyes had forced him to stay still.

“Lucid,” Tommy slowly pronounced. “I said nothing.”

Lucid’s hand flew to his throat. It burned like he had drunk a glass of boiling water, but he thrived in that pain, thrived in feeling something, anything, beside the harsh wrench of fear that it was usually blocked off with.

‘You heard it, too?’ he scribbled frantically.

“I did.”

Tommy beamed with a wild smile, his eyes sparkling like a person who had just witnessed a miracle happen in front of him. And that is what has finally broken Lucid. Tears spilled from his eyes faster than he wiped them, staining his cheeks with warmth. Lucid couldn’t stop. Time became insignificant, lost in the flood of months’ worth of pain and fear bursting out of him all at once. He cried of injustice and resentment and cried because there was, for once, someone to witness his tears. Tommy held him the entire time, patting him on the back, murmuring something along the lines of ‘it’s okay’ and ‘let it all out.’

Lucid never had clung to someone closer than he did to Tommy at that moment. They sat there, still, even when he ran out of tears to spill and just shuddered with an occasional sob. A weight holding down Lucid for the longest time had finally been lifted up, leaving him to feel empty and relieved at the same time. Tommy helped him to sit upright when he had gathered enough courage to pull away.

“Feeling better?” Tommy asked sympathetically.

Lucid nodded weakly. He felt ashamed, now, for breaking down and weeping in front of Tommy. He was the one supposed to comfort the boy, not the other way round. ‘Sorry,’Lucid tried to sign. Tommy grabbed his hand and lowered it gently.

“Don’t,” he repeated Lucid’s words, making him freeze. “You guys have travelled time for me. The least I can do to repay you is to be here for you when you need it.”

***

Ten minutes later, Tommy and Lucid sat on the stairs, listening for the muffled voices downstairs and waiting for Thomas and Theseus to come. Lucid looked more or less decent, now, save for the puffiness of his face.

“It’s not that noticeable,” Tommy reassured him, “Certainly not as noticeable as, you know, the literal lighthouses you have for eyes – don’t look at me like that, what else can I assume when you haven’t told me what hybrid you are?”

In the midst of the mess Lucid forgot that Tommy didn’t know what a Wither is. He probably never has met a wither skeleton, either, which provided Lucid with a perfect opportunity for a scam. ‘Torch,’ Lucid scribbled nonchalantly.

“What the fuck do you mean, torch?” Tommy frowned.

‘Our mother was a torch.’

“No, she was not,” Tommy roared.

‘Yes, she was.’

“No.”

‘Yes.’

“No!’

‘Then I swallowed a torch,’ Lucid graciously agreed.

“You would die.”

‘Bet?’

They were a minute away from Tommy searching the house for a torch so that Lucid could try and swallow it when the noises from downstairs finally fell silent. There was a sound of a stair creaking under someone’s feet, followed by a mindless swear and rustle of giant feathers. Thomas was the first one to see them, and the absent frown skewing his features quickly turned into guilt when his eye fell on suddenly very quiet Tommy. Even Theseus refrained from commenting, freezing behind the avian with his ears snapping upright.

“Listen, Tommy,” Thomas started. “I wanted to apologize. I know that everything we said - it’s a lot to take in at once. There is a reason for why we haven’t told you anything earlier, but I’m still sorry that we didn’t.”

A reassuring pat from Lucid, a bracing sigh from Tommy, “Fair enough,” the boy said, crossing his arms. “You don’t need to apologize – I think I understand it.”

Thomas looked surprised. He obviously expected this to be a lot harder, “You do?”

Tommy hummed. He and Lucid exchanged an understanding look. “I’m not sure if I’d believe it then,” Tommy admitted. “I’d probably call you crazy and try to stab you with a kitchen knife. Don’t let that lure you into a false sense of security, though. Stabbing is still an option.”

The four of them burst into wheezing laughter, and the tension around them was gone at once.

***

Theseus couldn't fall asleep for a long time that night. His mind kept replaying the conversation from earlier, over and over, every image lined with the writhing pain his heart was deeply stabbed with.

Theseus thought he'd be happy to finally see Techno again. This was the exact opposite of happy, feeling the indifference - edging with curiosity, but indifference all the same - he looked over Theseus with. Techno was studying him the way he'd any other stranger and not someone he once swore on his life to protect. What had Theseus have expected, really? Certainly not for Techno to remember the future that had never happened to him in the first place and – fuck, thinking about it only made it hurt more.

But it wasn't a completely lost case, was it? Theseus and his Techno hadn't exactly started on a good note in their timeline, either. The only problem was that he wasn't going to have enough time to reconnect with Techno as Thomas clearly wanted to get them out of the town as soon as possible. He suspected that the avian had only agreed to Phil’s offer for Theseus’ sake. It was a gesture both appreciated and not, as it teased Theseus with a possibility that he won't be able to make a good use of.

Understanding of Thomas’ intentions didn’t make Theseus feel any better about the results. He tried not to think how hard it would be for him to leave tomorrow, and in his troubled thoughts, hadn't noticed the moment his eyelids fell shut and he finally drifted off to restless sleep.

Theseus woke up to a feeling of something pulling the blanket off him.

“Give that back!” he yelled out, shooting upright.

Thomas froze in front of the bed with the blanket wrapped in his arms, wings hovering above him and brushing against the ceiling. Tangled, messy hair, feathers sticking out in all directions – the avian, by all signs, looked like he had just woken up.

Some people wake up and choose violence, Thomas, however, had decided to commit theft on Theseus’ blanket. Which he’d normally kick the avian for, if it wasn’t for his eye – pupil black and wide and giant, as if somebody poured ink inside of them.

“What the fuck?”

Thomas snapped out of his stiff position – blinked twice, opened his mouth – and instead of a normal explanation, let out a chirp, a cheerful sound distinctly resembling Phil’s greetings back in the day. Theseus watched in awe as the avian waddled over to the corner of the room, where a bunch of pillows had been thrown into a circular pile, and tossed his blanket on top of it.

And inside of what he could only guess to be an impromptu nest…

“Lucid, what the fuck are doing over there?”

Sitting amongst the pillows and the blankets, knees tucked under his chin, Lucid managed to look simultaneously like a hostage and a very confused cat. Upon Theseus’ question, he tried to stand up, only for Thomas to grab his shoulders and push him back down with an angry sounding honk.

Lucid raised his hands and gave Theseus a desperate look, ‘Help’.

Too late. Theseus almost toppled over when Thomas grabbed and tugged at his arm. The avian turned out to be much stronger than he had anticipated, and the element of surprise was still on his side – so, completely dazed and mouth agape, he allowed himself to be led and sat into the nest, almost crushing the third person already curled up in there comfortably.

“Seriously?” Theseus asked. “We got abducted, and Tommy is sleeping?”

Theseus yelped when Tommy blindly slapped him, the hit landing hard on his back. “I was,” Tommy grumped, words slurring. “Until you woke me up with your screams. I don’t care if I’m abducted. You didn’t let me rest normally for weeks, and now I’m getting all those sweet sleep hours back.”

Thomas walked past the nest, cooing in satisfaction. His face had an idiotic expression of a person operating on an hour of sleep: not quite asleep, not quite awake, and certainly not sane.

“And a deranged avian walking around collecting pillows doesn’t bother you at all?” Theseus deadpanned.

“Nope,” Tommy said, and rolled over on the other side.

Theseus fought the urge to kick the boy – for insolence – but ultimately decided against it. Something had told him that Thomas wouldn’t appreciate that much, whether he was sane or not. The avian grabbed another blanket and threw it over both Theseus and Lucid’s shoulders. Theseus immediately jerked it off. Thomas made an angry sound and frowned.

“Fuck off,” Theseus snarled, but the blanket was still wrapped around him insistently. Lucid stopped him when he tried to get rid of it again.

‘It’s useless,’ he informed. ‘He has been like that since morning.’

Theseus threw a look outside the window – and the sun hanging high above the town had informed him that he had, indeed, successfully slept his way to noon. If they had any plans about leaving early today – these were long since thrown away to the wind. Well, on the other hand, what plans could they talk about when one of their group officially had gone crazy?

“I’m surprised you didn’t kick him yet,” Theseus said, watching Thomas try and pull the mattress up from the bedframe. He looked incredibly confused. Despite the fact that the mattress was absolutely nothing like either pillow or blanket he must have considered it one from how soft it was and hence dragged it into the direction of the nest.

‘I couldn’t.’

“Why?”

‘He tried to hug me.’

Lucid looked defeated. Theseus – horrified. Did that mean Thomas was going to hug him, too?

Oh fuck. Oh no. Thomas will have to kill him for that first. Theseus jumped out of the nest, swift as a bullet, just as the avian finally let go off the mattress. They ended up freezing, facing each other from the opposite ends of the room.

Thomas stared at him. Theseus stared at him back. Slightly opened door loomed in the corner of his vision. Theseus lunged for it despite the high-pitched screech behind his back and fucking ran.

Floorboards creaked under his feet. Theseus sprinted down the stairs, skipping three steps at once. Thomas followed closely, stomping loudly on each with the grace of a baby penguin, but he was still too close for the raccoon hybrid’s liking. Phil! He needed Phil. Phil was an avian, too, perhaps he knew how to neutralize one as well.

Phil had been found in the kitchen. When Theseus entered, he had turned around from where he had been pouring tea, "Good afternoon, mate. Is everything alright?"

"No it’s not,” Theseus blurted out. “Our avian broke.”

Phil barely had the time to raise a brow in confusion before Thomas burst into the kitchen, wings wide and growling like an entire gaze of angry raccoons. Theseus was pushed away behind the avian's back despite his protesting snarl.

“See?” Theseus said. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

Meanwhile, Phil took a cautious step back. Theseus did not like the expression on his face. He did not like that expression one bit.

“Oh,” Phil said, eyes flickering between Theseus and Thomas, “Oh.”

“What do you mean, ‘oh’?” Theseus snapped. “What the fuck is wrong with him?”

“I have a guess,” Phil answered. “But I need to check on something first.”

The crow avian stepped forward. Thomas’ reaction was instant. Theseus slapped hands over his own ears when a piercing screech had rung through the kitchen.

“He is not going to let me get any closer,” Phil said when Thomas finally stopped beating his wings, not looking even slightly perturbed by the albatross avian’s strange behavior.

“I am standing right behind him, if that’s of any help,” Theseus informed. “What do I have to do? Stab him with a knife? can do that; you just have to ask.”

Phil wheezed. “No stabbing needed. Just try to gently pull out a feather from his wing.”

“Easy.” Theseus grabbed the closest covert he could reach and yanked it. Thomas whipped around with a resentful face. The wings snapped open to their full length and beat harshly, one aimed strike slapping Theseus hard enough to make him yelp.

Phil ducked behind a counter. “Gently,” Phil repeated reproachfully.

Theseus rolled his eyes. “So do you know what happened to him or what?”

Phil straightened and looked over the kitchen. Feathers were scattered around the floor, dozens of them, more than Theseus saw him shed even after that one time he allowed Tommy and Lucid to preen his wings. Phil picked up one of them, looking over it with both thoughtfulness and curiosity, paying no mind to the warning click sound Thomas made.

“He is molting,” Phil declared.

The term sounded vaguely familiar to Theseus. Maybe Phil had mentioned that to him before, either when he was younger or during the few months they lived together after the Doomsday: something about that feathers getting broken and worn out with time and hence having to be shed to make room for new ones to grow. “What does that have to do with his behavior?” he asked.

“Ever saw an instinct-driven hybrid before?”

Theseus shook his head. “That happens with hybrids every once in a while,” Phil said. “In certain situations, this state might be triggered, causing us to fall into control of our own instincts – like molt in avians, for example,” Phil nodded at Thomas. “To say it simply: the human part of his brain just got temporarily turned off.”

Theseus threw a look at Thomas. The avian’s wings slowly folded back as the tone of Phil’s voice evened out. Theseus poked Thomas with a finger. Then one more time. Normally, Thomas wouldn’t tolerate that for more than a second and start screaming already, but the avian just blinked at him slowly and chirped in confusion.

Oh fuck. Phil wasn’t joking. “So, Thomas is an actual chicken now?” Theseus wasn’t sure whether his voice was genuinely amused or hysterical. He felt like both at the same time. Suddenly, Thomas’ strange behavior made a ton of sense, from building a nest with blankets to making all these inhuman sounds.

“I guess you could say that,” Phil hummed.

“And for how long is that going to last?”

“Since loss of all feathers would leave normal birds extremely vulnerable, they molt slowly in a span of up to several months – “

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“– But it only lasts for up to a few weeks in avians, as flight is not vital for our survival,” Phil finished.

Theseus did not feel reassured by that at all. Few weeks? Thomas was annoying before, even without all these avian instinct shit. “It’s typically the worst in the beginning,” Phil added in a tone that was probably meant to calm him down. “Thomas should be back to being mostly normal in a few days.”

Theseus didn’t dare to ask what did ‘mostly normal’ exactly mean – his mood was miserable without it already. “And until then?”

“Until then, he is going to be extremely clingy to everyone he considers family and extremely hostile with everyone else.”

Too busy with their conversation, neither Phil nor Theseus had noticed how silent the room had gotten. The raccoon caught the sight of Thomas sneaking up on him at the last moment and didn’t have the time to warn Phil before the albatross lunged at him with a battle cry.

Chapter Text

Apparently, instinct-driven avians were extremely territorial, more than anyone – towards another of their own kind. Theseus learned it the hard way, trying to peel Thomas off Phil’s wings, while the albatross proceeded to tear his throat raw with screeches so loud that they should’ve been banned from existence. Five minutes into listening to them he already wanted to hit Thomas on the head with a frying pan and only refrained from doing so because of the firm look Phil threw in his direction.

“Alright,” Theseus agreed, putting the pan away, “It’s not like he is actively trying to murder you or anything.”

The ultimate decision they came to was for Phil – and Wil, after he had been dragged out of his and Techno’s shared room – to leave the house for the day. Techno went out to the town center in the morning and shouldn’t be back till the afternoon, at which point, they hoped, Thomas would be coherent enough not to lunge at people unprovoked.

Theseus started giving up on his hopes for that, though, watching as the avian beamed at the sight of all the pillows scattered around the living room. “You already have a nest upstairs!” he scoffed. “Why are you making another one?”

Thomas chirped at him, brows flying up to his forehead. It seemed like he had come to an idea – and a genius one, at that, if the happy grin and purrs were something to judge by – and then Thomas disappeared upstairs. He came back with bewildered Lucid under one arm and grim Tommy wrapped around in the other.

Theseus didn’t see that, though. He took his chance to find a hiding spot. The fireplace was the first thing his eyes fell on, and without a second thought, Theseus jumped in and squeezed himself into the small space above it.

He stayed still and silent, praying for the avian not to find him. It felt like a horror movie scene, with Theseus listening to the quiet steps, the rustle of feathers and confused chirps – until a face suddenly peeked into the fireplace.

Theseus, whose body was already aching from the effort of keeping him frozen, felt his soul leaving his body. He fell on top of the avian, both crumbling to the floor with a loud thump. Theseus panicked, shot upright, and cried out when he slammed into something with the back of his head. The pause was enough for Thomas to grab his ankle. He was dragged into the nest screaming and desperately trying to catch onto something with his claws, “I’m not going to give in alive!”

Lucid, the fellow hostage, gave him a sympathetic look. That was of little help when Theseus was forced to sit still whilst Thomas was actively trying to drown them in blankets from all sides. Some of the feathers the avian shed in the kitchen earlier were used to fill the nest, too. Theseus was only happy that he had hidden his cape under the bed last night, somewhere the bird-brained Thomas wouldn’t stumble upon it accidentally.

The nest was already fairly cramped with three people inside of it. Thomas hadn’t been bothered by that fact at all when he decided to get in the very center, spreading his wings and throwing them over everyone else. The avian rumbled contentedly, looking like a bird trying to warm up its chicks more than anything – and Theseus really hated it. He hated it with his entire soul. The feathers totally didn’t feel super soft and cozy to touch and he did not shuffle a little bit closer because the warmth felt nice.

“This is embarrassing,” Theseus announced grimly.

“Uh oh,” Tommy said. “Someone’s in denial.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Theseus scoffed. “I hate this.”

“Of course you do.” Tommy threw his arms to the sides, and Thomas happily accepted the hug, pulling the boy’s head to rest on his shoulder. “It’s not that hard to accept affection, you know. Especially when it’s given out for free like that. Just look at how happy he looks!”

Thomas’ eyes were shining almost as bright as Lucid’s were. Just a little longer and he’d start fucking vomiting happiness.

“Just make sure his heart doesn’t burst with overjoy,” Theseus said.

Lucid shared the cover of Thomas’ wing with Tommy and tried to move to make more space for the boy. Thomas had other plans. Lucid was grabbed unceremoniously across his chest and pulled up closer to the avian as if he was a plush toy. He could only squeak, eyes wide and glowing bright, when Thomas put his chin on top of the hooded head.

Lucid looked nervous. Panicked, even, in a freezing sort of way as if his face somehow got stuck onto a single expression of absolute horror. The scarf that he seemingly hastily tied at the back of his head slipped off to the side, allowing Theseus to see the thinly pressed lips. Lucid somehow managed to get even paler than he already was. With his back straight and limbs awkwardly clinging to his body he neither pulled into the hug or tried to get out of it.

Theseus wasn’t a fan of hugs either, but even he didn’t react to them like that.

“Uh, Lucid?” Theseus tried to exchange a glance with Thomas out of habit, but was only met an idiotic smile on the avian’s face. Right. Thomas was still out of commission. And Lucid was apparently too, if his stiff position and the absence of an answer were anything to go by.

“Thomas is glitching. Lucid’s cosplaying as a stone statue.” Thomas received a pat on his back that was more like a slap. Theseus didn’t risk touching Lucid for the fear of startling him like the last night and turned to Tommy instead. “What’s next? Are you going to break, too?”

Lucid shuddered like his voice pulled him from under the water and his eyes flickered unsurely. It made Theseus remember their conversation from last night. Lucid was nervous about Thomas’ view of him. That’s quite a contrast, to expect to get disowned – Theseus still didn’t want to think about why Lucid would even consider that outcome – or yelled at, and received a hug instead.

“It’s not that bad,” Tommy looked concerned, too. It took a second for Theseus to realize that he was talking to Lucid and not him. “Uh, you’re fine. You can relax.”

Lucid’s gaze shifted from Tommy to Theseus, as if asking for help or advice. Emotional support thing. How did Thomas do that again?

Theseus raised both his hands and gave Lucid a double thumbs up. Tommy stared at him with a brow raised, as if asking, ‘seriously?’

“Don’t look at me like that,” Theseus said. “I don’t do emotions. Emotions are for pussies.”

If Lucid wasn’t out of it he’d probably tell that murder is an emotion too and then Theseus would be running and screaming across the room with an assassin close on his heels. Currently, though, Lucid only slipped him an annoyed look, while simultaneously slowly relaxing into the hug.

It seemed to go fine at first. Thomas got absolutely delighted when Lucid pressed closer, rumbling and curling his wings even tighter around them all. One beat. Two. Three. Theseus was ready to announce that the crisis had passed until he heard a muffled sob.

The question was, whose?

“I’m not crying. Thomas’ not crying.” Theseus even poked the avian’s face just to make sure of it. “Is that you, Tommy?”

“Well, yes,” Tommy said. “But actually, not really.”

And then he tilted his head towards Lucid, who raised his face from over it was pressed into the soft fabric of Thomas’ sweater. The moment Theseus met his eyes, they glinted with shining tears. Lucid tried to turn away from him, but the quiet sobs, so much more audible for Theseus’ sensitive hearing, and the tiny shudders of his body still heavily gave him away. Thousands of questions flashed through Theseus’ mind all at the same time. Did something happen when Theseus was blinking? Or was Lucid actually crying over a hug?

Theseus didn’t know how to deal with this. He can manage a bit of reassuring talk. He cannot deal with a child in hysterics. Lucid was only his favorite because he caused less trouble than Tommy. Was there a book Theseus was supposed to read?

Of course, there was not. Theseus imagined reading a book titled ‘How to maintain your Lucid’s emotional stability: a complete guide’ and almost laughed aloud. Almost laughed in front of a crying person. Theseus was really terrible at this, wasn’t he?

Lucid was calming down, bit by bit. Theseus didn’t realize how much he was panicking until the sight of Lucid wiping away his tears made him exhale with relief.

“Lucid got overwhelmed,” Tommy informed him, sympathetically patting Lucid’s back.

Theseus frowned at him skeptically. “Since when did you become a professional on- “

“Torch hybrids?”

“What?”

Tommy shrugged nonchalantly. “Last night. Apparently, torch hybrids have a tendency to cry every time they are hugged.”

Lucid flipped Tommy off with a hand that was not trapped in the avian’s firm hold, but still did not stop crying. At some point Thomas finally noticed the active waterworks and chirped with surprise. Theseus lightly bumped his forehead into his arm. “Yeah, you idiot, you’ve managed to make Lucid have a breakdown.”

Who would’ve thought that the one wearing a mask in their group had the most chances to have emotional diarrhea in the middle of a conversation. Honestly, Theseus didn’t know what he didn’t predict earlier. Why’d Lucid suppress his emotions whilst there was something to cover them with anyway?

Tommy's stomach growled out of the blue. Theseus understood that something went wrong the moment Thomas' head snapped in the boy’s direction. His pupils dilated, wings folding back as he crouched in the nest.

"Uh oh," Tommy gulped.

Thomas let go of Lucid – Theseus wasn’t looking closely enough to say whether the Wither’s eyes flashed with relief or regret – and jumped out of the nest and towards the wall. Theseus jerked upright, “Where are you – “

BOOM.

Too late. Thomas was charging not at the wall, but at the window. He tried to dive out of it – which would’ve worked just fine if it wasn’t for the fact that the window was fucking closed. Thomas slammed into glass instead, falling and rolling on the floor with a pained cry. Tears were prickling in the corners of his eyes. Theseus’ heart leaped. He was at Thomas’ side at once, cursing under his breath.

“You’re a fucking moron,” he said, helping Thomas to his feet. The avian looked at the window with the naivety and confusion of a toddler. The moment Theseus let him go, the avian tried to lunge for the window again. The raccoon caught him before he could crack his skull open. “What is wrong with you?!”

“Birds don’t see glass,” Tommy gasped behind him.

Theseus looked at Tommy. Then at Thomas. He slowly led him towards the window and knocked on the glass with his knuckles. Thomas’ eyes widened, and he put his hand against the window. The moment he felt the solid surface under his palm, his mouth fell agape as if he had just been shown the eighth wonder of the world.

Amazing. Fantastic. Spectacular. Phil did say that Thomas’ human brain was not working right now, but Theseus didn’t think he’d meant that, like, literally. What were the other things birds couldn’t see? How stupid are wandering albatrosses really? Probably not smart enough to understand that a knife is sharp or a kettle is hot and should not be touched with naked hands. Theseus thought this whole day was going to be just Thomas annoying him on a larger scale, but this? He didn’t sign up to be the avian’s fucking babysitter.

Nobody was asking for his opinion, it seemed. Theseus had to get distracted for one second for Thomas to disappear without a trace. Lucid, still standing shocked in the center of the room, had pointed him in the direction of the kitchen.

Thomas was rummaging through cabinets and shelves. Theseus touched his shoulder and jumped when the avian whipped around and almost slapped him with the tail of a fish he had been holding onto. A whole, giant fish, raw and all. Thomas looked proud of himself, hugging the scaly body. Wilbur would approve, Theseus thought grimly.

“So he did adopt himself,” Phil murmured under his nose just before he left.

“Is that a bad thing?” Theseus asked.

“Not necessarily,” Phil tilted his head. “But don’t get surprised if he behaves… let’s say, very protectively or caring towards either of you.”

Theseus had no idea what Phil had talked about at the moment but he had a few guesses now. Tommy peeked into the kitchen curiously and jumped backwards when Thomas demonstrated him the fish. "I'm not eating that!"

Lucid, hiding behind his back with caution, actively nodded in agreement. Thomas wasn’t taking ‘no’ for an answer, apparently. Tommy went off running when the avian took a step forward, wielding the fish. Theseus sighed and caught him by his elbow, “Let’s put the poor animal down, please.”

With some gentle coaxing, albeit hesitantly, Thomas finally let Theseus take the fish away. Theseus had awkwardly patted him on the head. Birds do like head pats, don’t they?

There was something birds – and avians – certainly liked more than they did pats and petting. Theseus almost slapped himself for forgetting about preening at first. Even Phil used to get all relaxed and woozy when he or Techno fixed his feathers.

“I will try to distract him for a while,” Theseus said to Lucid, who still stood frozen in the doorway. “We do need to have breakfast, though. Or a lunch. Doesn’t fucking matter – handle that, please.”

Lucid nodded – or maybe he shook his head – either way, Theseus dragged Thomas out of the kitchen. It was already too small as it was, even without the giant wings knocking stuff off the counters and tables.

“Tommy, can you help me with preening him?” he asked, and the boy approached after searching for – and not finding – the fish in the avian’s hands.

Theseus ran a hand down the soft feathers and Thomas went instantly still. Bingo. Ten minutes of preening, and maybe the avian will even fall asleep for the rest of the day. That would’ve been the perfect outcome Theseus didn’t actually even hope to get. Either way, it still was worth a try.

Thomas let himself be sat on the floor. Theseus put a hand on the base of his wing and gently guided it open until the appendage was almost entirely laying on his lap. Now that he could see every individual primary and covert feather, it was clear that the albatross was already missing quite a few large patches.

“You better start talking again soon,” Theseus informed Thomas. “I want to bully you for looking like a plucked chicken.”

Tommy flopped down beside him, “Now that’s just mean.” A pause. “Can I tease him together with you?”

Theseus gave him an understanding look and winked. Tommy smirked back, grabbing Thomas’ other wing. Theseus’ claws had carefully caught up on a broken feather. Thomas let out a soft trill as it was pulled out – it probably has been itching and bothering the avian for a while now.

Preening was a process calming not only for the avian but also for a person preening them. Theseus' hands fell into the monotone process of pulling out loose feathers, shaking off dirt and dust and fixing up the plumage.

Thomas closed his eyes, rumbling softly, the sound vibrating in Theseus’ ears. It was hard to imagine a position more vulnerable for the avian than half-asleep, with his back turned to the only people in the room. Instincts should’ve made Thomas wary of everything and jumpy like a wild bird, yet he was the exact opposite of that. If that wasn’t a sign of absolute trust, Theseus didn’t know what could be. It made him feel oddly warm in his chest. Theseus pushed the feeling away – no, he wasn’t going to go all soppy about getting to pluck out Thomas’ feathers.

“What is that?” Tommy asked, pointing at white spikes sticking out of bare skin on Thomas’ wing.

“Pin feathers,” Theseus explained. “Also called blood feathers. Because, you know, they have blood in them and shit. They’re the growing feathers and if you break one you could possibly kill Thomas.”

Tommy’s eyes went wide. “Really?”

There was a deafening clatter of something falling in the kitchen. Tommy almost snapped – what did Theseus just say about killing Thomas?! – the pin feather he was getting a closer look at. Sleep and calmness were long forgotten as they raced to the door. Theseus got there first, and swore loudly when he saw Lucid standing in the kitchen, holding a soup pan and covered in red from head to toe.

Thomas almost passed out on the spot. Theseus had to catch him so that he wouldn’t slam his head on the table. “That’s not blood,” he informed Thomas. “That’s fucking ketchup.”

Theseus threw a pointed look at Lucid, who shrank in size, becoming twice as small as he previously was. “Care to explain, Lucid?”

Instead of an answer, Lucid offered him a plate with coal. Only on closer inspection did Theseus understand that these were actually supposed to be toasts.

“You tried to fix burnt toasts,” Theseus said, “with ketchup?”

Lucid nodded, defeated.

“I’m afraid to ask what you need the soup pan for.”

Lucid didn’t get the memo and pulled out a bottle of vinegar with one hand and a pineapple with the other. Theseus cursed. Loudly, with passion. Even Thomas, the least coherent person in the room, looked impressed with his profanity vocabulary. When Theseus let out all of his internal pain, he just breathed out and said, “Lucid, you’re permanently banned from the kitchen.”

***

Food was still a problem. Theseus was getting hungry himself, now, and he wouldn’t risk trying to cook something, because it meant leaving Thomas under Lucid and Tommy’s supervision – which was a national safety hazard on its own.

After Lucid had taken off his stained hoodie and wiped away as much ketchup off his pants as he could, they contemplated sending him with money and maybe bringing them back a snack or two. Tommy perked up and reminded them of the horses they left back at the inn. Theseus wanted to slap himself for forgetting about them, but before he could say anything else, Thomas tried to crush Lucid into another hug.

Every person has their own limit of emotions per day. Lucid’s has been exceeded already. Theseus couldn’t blame him for getting overwhelmed. However, running away from a trigger-happy avian was the worst decision he could’ve settled on. Lucid made it half-way out of the living room before Thomas took off after him. His wings, spread wide, immediately caught up on a shelf, swiping its contents off like they weighed nothing.

“Lucid, stop!” Theseus screeched, barely dodging the rain of heavy books. “Thomas, leave him the fuck alone or I will behead you!”

Lucid ducked under a coffee table. Swift as a snake, he slid over to the other side without making the furniture as much as twitch. And then there was Thomas, who tried to follow him suit, somehow managed to get under the table and abruptly shot back to his feet, sending the table flying straight into Theseus’ face.

I’m going to die, he thought, just before the smooth surface got connected with his forehead.

Or was Theseus thinking about murdering someone else?

Theseus’ vision exploded into fireworks of colors as he pushed himself into an upright position. The evidence of the assassination attempt on him was still there, coffee table toppled over and two idiots sprinting past him, one with confused chirps and the other with sweat running down his silently horrified face.

Ah. Theseus was indeed going to murder someone today.

A high-pitched scream rang in Theseus’ ears. He felt like having a heart attack when it dawned on him that the voice was Tommy. Did he trip over air? Did they manage to find a knife in the couple seconds he was out? Theseus stood up quickly, wincing at the colors lighting up in front of his eyes. Lucid almost stomped on his foot, running by. Theseus ducked under Thomas’ wing and grabbed Tommy by the back of his shirt.

“Did you get hurt?” he asked, frowning.

The boy, half-suspended in the air, blinked at him with his mouth still open wide. “No?” he said.

“Then why the fuck are you screaming?!”

“No reason. It’s just fun.”

That was it. This was where the last bit of Theseus’ patience was drained. Tommy was dropped on the floor, hiccupping, taken aback by the cold radiating from the hybrid. “I’ll give you a reason to scream,” Theseus said, voice eerily calm and eyes glinting dangerously. “Run.”

***

There was a quick pause between Tommy screaming ‘HE-E-ELP’ and Lucid frantically signing the same word where they all heard the door creaking.

Thomas’ head snapped towards the sound with a speed that almost made Theseus have another near-heart attack. The fur on the scruff of his neck stood straight when the avian hissed aggressively, with obvious warning tones directed at the surprised crimson eyes of the newcomer. Techno stood in the doorway and Theseus could swear he had seen his face stretch for a moment before it went back to its default ‘bruh’ expression.

“Did you guys launch a nuke here?” he asked, overlooking the battlefield the living room had turned into.

Tommy risked peeking out from where he was hiding behind the toppled bookshelf. “Techno, help!” he screamed. “Theseus is trying to murder me – Oi!”

A pillow connected with Tommy’s face. Theseus jumped up to Techno. Either he was in a good mood or too confused to argue, but he allowed Theseus to shove him out into the hallway and slam the door behind himself.

The screaming and noises behind the door resumed immediately. Theseus’ head already started to feel too tight, a sign of an upcoming headache. He leaned his back against a wall, sighing as gave himself a momentary break.

“What happened over there?” Techno asked, raising a brow.

“Instinct-driven Thomas happened, is what it is,” Theseus grumped, rubbing his forehead.

Understanding flashed in Techno’s eyes. “How bad is it?” he asked.

“He tackled Phil and nearly pulled out half of his feathers.” That was kind of an overstatement but Theseus’ hair must have gone grey till he managed to tear him apart. “Phil and Wilbur left quite a while ago, not to provoke Thomas further.”

Techno hummed. “Would he try to murder me, too?”

Yes. Absolutely. Without any doubt. “Maybe,” Theseus said in an exaggeratedly cheerful tone. “From what I know, Thomas did not have an exactly good relationship with you in the future.”

Techno winced. Barely noticeable, but the shift was still there, making Theseus’ ears twitch nervously. “Well, I will have to take your word on that,” Techno said.

A pause. Theseus stayed leaning on the wall, forcing his tail to stay still, even as it wanted to sway back and forth madly. He was not panicking. Theseus never got panicky, ever, he was simply above that shit.

Finally, Theseus snapped. “Listen, I know that all the time-dimension travelling is extremely weird and doesn’t make any sense – “

“I believe you,” Techno cut in.

“– but I promise we’re not – What?”

“I believe what you said,” Techno repeated. “That you are all different versions of Tommy or whatever.”

“You do?” Theseus asked, unsure.

“I’ve seen enough to tell the similarities.” Techno waved a dismissive hand at the door. As if on cue, there was a sound of something heavy falling, followed by Thomas’ honk and Tommy’s muffled scream, “Fork his eye!”

Oh no. They’ve found a fork. Theseus cussed under his breath, instinctually lunging for the door before he remembered that Techno was still standing there, eyeing him curiously.

Theseus paused. He wanted to stay. As awkward as the conversation was, he felt a tug at his chest, a knot of disappointment forming in. He was missing out on a chance. Who knows if he will have another opportunity to talk with Techno before Thomas comes back to his senses and drags them all out of the town?

And then there was silence. Even with Theseus’ enhanced hearing he couldn’t make out a single sound. If children are left in a different room and there are no noises coming out it probably means that something happened and they’re frantically trying to come up with an excuse that wouldn’t get them murdered by their parents.

Thomas and Lucid were not exactly children and Theseus certainly was not their parent but fuck, the silence scared him more than any other noise ever could. With a half-formed apology on his lips, he threw himself into the living room.

The first person Theseus saw was Tommy. The boy froze like a person caught on a crime scene, trying to shield the room out of his vision. He was really overestimating his own height as Theseus could still clearly see Lucid hanging onto the chandelier for dear life. Thomas sat on the floor right below him, staring at him sadly.

“Okay, that’s it,” Theseus exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. “I’m done.”

Theseus scrambled up Thomas unceremoniously with one arm and pinned the avian against his chest. The wings and fluffy feathers immediately got into his face, making him sneeze. Thomas let him guide his wings away and leaned back into the contact with a contended warble.

“This is not a hug,” Theseus deadpanned. It sounded like he was talking to himself rather than Thomas. “I’m just trying to keep him still.”

“Of course,” Tommy chuckled.

Theseus hissed at Tommy and he backed off, crossing his arms with a smirk. Lucid’s eyes flickered between him and Thomas. He let go of the chandelier and fell, landing graciously like a cat and as cautious in his movements afterwards.

“I’ve got him under control,” Theseus said, like Thomas was a ticking bomb and not just an overly affectionate chicken. Well. Thomas could certainly be both.

"So, are we good to get Henry, then?" Tommy asked.

"Hold on there for a second," Theseus frowned. "What do you mean, 'we'?"

"Me and Lucid, of course. Pals. Best mates. The duo of the century."

Tommy threw a hand over Lucid’s shoulders, grinning. Theseus was surprised that Tommy didn't get hit by the trident yet. It was as if Lucid wasn't just a lot less menacing without his mask, but he lost most of his aggression, too.

"You're not going anywhere," Theseus said firmly, with a tone similar to one Techno used on Theseus when he caught him in the chest room, one golden apple half-eaten in his mouth and another ten falling out of his arms in surprise. 'We're trying to fight your addiction, not make it worse,' Techno had said.

Theseus didn’t listen to him then. Waited till it was morning – the time of the day Techno was weakest – stuffed himself with golden apples and then proceeded to throw up most of it all over the house’s front porch. Theseus flipped Techno off once he was done dying, hanging over the railings like a ragdoll, but was ultimately forced to agree that Techno was right all along.

With Thomas out of commission, somebody had to be the adult of the group. Dream was still out there. Theseus felt the cold shiver running down his spine, remembered the worry and panic they all succumbed to when Tommy went missing - and frowned, pressing his lips into a thin line. "No," he repeated.

"Why not?"

"You need adult supervision."

"Oh come on," Tommy whined. "I'm not five. Besides, doesn't Lucid count as an adult?"

Theseus huffed. Thank you, Thomas, very much. Apart from the obvious fact that Lucid did not look like a twenty-one-year-old, he didn't behave like one, either. It's a wonder both Techno and Phil let it slip, even after Theseus saw a shadow of doubt pass both their faces.

"If anything happens to you, Thomas is going to have my head," Theseus said. "So no, Tommy, you're staying home."

"I can accompany them."

Techno seemingly appeared out of thin air. Theseus managed to forget that the man was literally standing in the hallway this entire time, and his ears perked up in alarm, his tail puffing up and swinging from side to side. In his arms, Thomas squirmed uncomfortably. Theseus ran a quick hand down the avian’s wing, feeling as tension sipped out of his body and he fell limp once again.

"Yeah!" Tommy was quick to agree, latching onto Techno's elbow. "Now we've got two adults I will totally not try to run away from."

Techno pinched the bridge of his nose. "Tommy, don’t beg Theseus to let you out and then immediately give him a reason not to. That's counterintuitive."

"I don't know what counterintuitive means, " Tommy announced, bouncing back and forth on his heels. He turned to Theseus, "So is that a yes?"

Theseus sighed. Weighing all the pros and cons, did some statistical analysis of chances of this going completely wrong and decided that, with Techno there, it should be lower than average.

“Only if Techno’s sure,” he said.

“I am,” Techno confirmed. He looked Theseus in the eyes, tilted his head at Thomas, receiving a strained growl from the avian. “I guess you two are staying, then.”

“Somebody needs to make sure Thomas won’t try to jump off a balcony and break his neck.”

For a moment, something akin to disappointment flashed in Techno’s eyes. The feeling of an opportunity slipping away from Theseus’ fingers grew stronger, but he already made his choice: Thomas needed him here more, even if the avian was too dumb at the moment to understand that.

Besides, if there was someone amongst their trio who had the least chances of dropping unnecessary information about the future, it would be Lucid. He probably wouldn’t tell a thing even under the threat of torture. He and Theseus exchanged an understanding look.

Lucid pulled out his notebook, 'Your sacrifice will go down in history.'

Theseus made an exaggeratedly annoyed face and tried to smack him. Lucid turned out to be faster, dodging with a smirk. Theseus loosened his hold on Thomas just a bit, enough for the avian to feel it and make a questioning sound. Lucid’s eyes turned into two giant plates and he swan-dived behind the couch, almost knocking over wheezing Tommy. He peeked out from his cover and squinted cautiously at Thomas.

“Not so brave now?” Theseus teased.

Lucid flipped him off, but left his cover and slowly backed away. He pulled up the scarf further up his face and walked over to Techno, barely sparing him a glance. Tommy trotted over to them, grinning.

“Behave, both of you.” Theseus said firmly.

He escorted them all the way to the porch. Thomas glanced at Theseus and Lucid with Tommy with a confused look on his face and only came to his senses once they walked out of the door. The avian discovered two objects in his care suddenly went missing and howled, loud and sorrowful. Theseus winced and clapped a hand over his mouth.

“Stop wailing, they’re going to be back soon.”

Thomas didn’t stop wailing. In fact, his cries only became worse. Even preening couldn’t help this time – the avian smacked Theseus with his wing, harsh enough to make him stagger.

So Thomas was mad at him now. “You’re a child,” Theseus sank into the couch. “An overgrown penguin.”

Thomas continued to tear his throat raw, sounding like a hundred dying seagulls singing opera at once. Theseus squeezed his temples and bit his lip. The howls echoed and rang in his head – he felt like someone was plunging a fucking screwdriver into his brain.

Theseus lasted for another minute before he eventually gave up. “Please, shut up,” he said. “I’ll do anything for you to stop.”

The room fell into silence. It was the most beautiful thing that Theseus had ever heard in his life. The pure relief of it was so strong he didn’t fully process his own words until he felt a hand touching his hair. Theseus smacked it away, jumping out of the couch and whipping around to bare his teeth at Thomas.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he snarled.

The question was rhetorical. Thomas couldn’t tell a single sentence, and besides, Theseus knew the answer already. “Anything,” he had clarified, frowning, “except brushing my hair.”

It was a win that Thomas didn’t break into a wail again. Theseus would feel relieved if it wasn’t for how sad Thomas’ face turned. His wings dropped with a quiet, pitiful whine. Thomas looked like Theseus had just crushed his lifelong dream or kicked his puppy and it made him strangely ashamed. For what? It wasn’t a toddler he was dealing with, but a near-adult overgrown avian, just a tad bit high on instincts.

There wasn’t much of a difference between Thomas and a child right now, though. He was surely as impulsive and clingy as one. Phil should’ve warned them better; Theseus didn’t know he’d be dealing with .

Thomas was about to break into tears any moment now. It was like Tommy’s puppy eyes situation over again. Theseus was getting manipulated and the worst thing was that it worked – the clench of guilt became too much for him to handle, and he finally gave in.

“Fine,” Theseus gritted his teeth, settling back on the couch. “Just don’t look at me… like that.”

Internally, he stomped on the warmth stirring in his chest when Thomas broke into a series of cheerful sounds. No. Fuck it. Theseus was a victim of circumstances and in no world he cared about what made Thomas happy.

The couch was not good enough of a spot for the avian. Theseus was dragged back into the nest against his weak protests. His only hope now was that pillows and blankets were the only things Thomas made nests out of.

The absence of a comb to brush didn’t bother Thomas. Thin fingers ran down his long, fluffy hair, carefully untangling the knots in the faint gold strands. Despite how his shoulders initially spiked up with tension, Theseus had to admit – Thomas was very careful. Theseus barely felt the tug at his hair; the touch was quick and light, and dare he say it, kind of pleasant.

In a way, the movements resembled how he had fixed Thomas’ feathers earlier. Theseus wondered if that’s why the avian was so insistent about getting to comb through his hair – in the absence of wings, it was the first closest thing to preening.

Theseus wasn’t sure if Thomas knew what he was doing or if the brush of a hand against his ear was a pure accident. All he knew was that the moment it happened his brain stopped working and his whole body melted into a puddle, as if every single bone vanished out of it at once.

The avian caught him with a surprised chirp. Without receiving a follow-up insult or protest, he carefully lowered Theseus to rest against his chest. Theseus barely registered any of it; he was too busy flushing with anger and shame. The fucking off-button. That’s what Phil had called it, anyway, when he discovered that a simple touch too close to Theseus’ ears made him go completely slack. Avians weren’t the only ones with stupid instincts and Theseus was just so lucky to have his activated now.

Thomas was chirping. The fucker enjoyed torturing him like this. “Stop it,” Theseus managed to choke out. “I’m going to murder you.”

The avian recoiled for a moment. Theseus expected himself to exhale with relief, to jump away, but instead, he pressed his head back into Thomas’ hand on instinct, craving for more, demanding the touch.

F-fuck. The hand in hair was back again. Theseus mumbled something akin to protest – Thomas didn’t hear it this time, or chose to ignore, if both the curious and amused sound he made was anything to go by. Theseus growled, weakly, barely, and even that form of anger was gone the moment fingers scratched his ear.

A wave of overwhelming warmth flowed through him. His mind felt weird, thoughts turning into heavy cotton. The avian kept scratching behind his ears, dull nails gentle against his scalp, and Theseus couldn’t do anything about it. Worse than that, he didn’t want to.

The warmth felt nice. The touch was familiar and comforting and so, so welcome. It was as if Theseus waited for something all along but only now understood what exactly it was. Theseus couldn’t remember when was the last time he ever let somebody so close. He even managed to forget what it was like, to trust somebody wholly: to bare his vulnerability for them to see. There was a buzzing in the back of his head, a faint static noise, that hummed safe, louder and louder until it was the only thing he could hear.

It was warm.

It was comforting.

Theseus almost missed the moment the buzzing turned into a faint purr. He assumed it was Thomas who made it, but the purring didn’t sound like it was coming from a bird and instead from a very happy cat.

No, not a cat. A raccoon.

Theseus was the one purring like a miniature tractor.

***

They sat like that for a while. Little by little, the fog in Theseus’ brain started to simmer. He felt control over his own body again, but instead of pulling away, he scooted over closer to Thomas’ side, aggressively snuggling into his shoulder as a hand continued to stroke through his hair. At this point, Theseus had nothing to lose anymore. He would never rise from the ashes of the shame and humiliation of this day, so he might as well get the best out of it while he can.

Thomas brought something to his ear. Theseus tried to whip around and look at what it was and immediately got his hand smacked away lightly. He had no choice but to tolerate the feeling of something tickling behind his ear. Theseus hoped that Thomas didn’t try to put an insect there.

Finally, his hair was left alone. Theseus reached and carefully touched the object braided into the long strands and was surprised to feel something small and soft on his fingertips.

“What is it?” he asked.

Thomas smiled at him sheepishly and reached for the back of his neck, where a line of grey feathers ran down along his spine. A small gift Theseus did not expect but that made him feel weirdly warm again. He’d usually get annoyed at that. He should’ve been annoyed. But Thomas looked at him expectantly, so Theseus fought against the stupidly strong urge to purr again and said, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Thomas said back.

Theseus shot upright, ears flattening against his skull, “You can talk?!”

Thomas frowned. Then relaxed. Then frowned again. Theseus watched him switch expressions as if he was unsure which one he should settle on.

“Woozy,” he finally said.

Phil said that Thomas would be slowly coming back to his senses. ‘He better be,” Theseus said then. ‘I won't put up with a literal chicken annoying me for more than a few days.’ Now, he found that maybe, he didn’t mind instinct-driven Thomas all that much.

"Can I hug you?" Thomas suddenly asked.

The fur on the scruff of Theseus' neck raised. Scratch that. Theseus minded that a lot.

"What the heck?" Theseus screeched.

"Is that a yes?"

"No! That's a huge fucking no!"

But Thomas already was advancing on him with wings fluffed up and arms spread widely.

***

When Lucid and Tommy returned to the house five minutes later, they heard the loud thump of something heavy falling on the floor. They ran into the living room alarmed, only to find extremely pissed off Theseus crushed in Thomas' arms.

"Get him away from me, or I'm going to kill him,” Theseus deadpanned.

Tommy threw one glance at Thomas, then at Theseus, and decided to be a little shit. Or, alternatively, lunged himself at them both, almost knocking them over and wrapping his arms around Theseus.

"Soft," he declared, hiding his face in Theseus' fluffy hair.

"This is sabotage!" Now squeezed between Thomas and Tommy, Theseus could only yelp and scream. "I am going to sue you all!"

That was the moment when Lucid snuck up and quietly perched next to them like an extremely shy cat. Theseus stopped his tirade and pursed his lips. He hesitated for just a few seconds before sighing and grabbing Lucid by his arm.

"If I have to tolerate this, you're suffering with me."

Lucid ended up in the center of the pile. As soon as warmth embraced him, he deflated into a happy puddle. Thomas draped his wings all over them, burying all three into a blanket of grey feathers.

“Look at us,” Theseus said. “We are literally the worst team ever. We got destroyed, and by what? Avian instincts and hugs?”

“We’re not a team,” Thomas said. “We’re a flock. A family.”

Tommy snuggled closer, the avian tucking him under his chin. Lucid pressed his check against Theseus’ chest, and the traitorous purring threatened to slip from his mouth again.

“Clingy bitches,” Theseus grumped.

And if Theseus was referring to himself, too… well, nobody would ever know that.

Chapter Text

Thomas spent another three days in the hazy mist of his bird brain, wordlessly obeying the little voice at the back of his mind.

When it told him chick is cold, he’d snuggle closer to Tommy – the funny little bird with no feathers – and drape a wing over him like a blanket, when it screamed at him danger, he’d hiss or growl at the pink-haired man passing in the corridor with a mug in hand. When it was grumping hungry, his flockmembers would try to feed him with what they call a ‘sandwich.’ ‘Sandwiches’ smelt like fish, but Thomas had never seen a fish that wouldn’t have a tail, or eyes, or fins whatsoever.

“Sus,” he said, and threw it away, but instead of falling on the floor, it landed perfectly across Lucid’s face. Lucid was not happy, and even though Thomas had offered him a hug as an apology, he still ended up thrown over the dining table.

Thomas took it as Lucid didn’t like ‘sandwiches’ either, so the next evening, when somebody had left one of the cursed transparent walls-not-walls open, he tried to fly out of it to search for real food. A heartbeat of a moment before he had a chance to jump and spread his wings, arms were wrapped around his waist from behind, and he was yanked down from the sill.

“You can’t fly, you fucking idiot!” Theseus screamed.

They both ended up on the floor, Thomas hitting the back of his head in the process. He ignored the pain, absently rubbing the spot as he pulled himself up into a sitting position. Theseus was staring at him from a foot away, ears flat and flashing his teeth in fury.

“Of course, I can,” Thomas had frowned at him. “I’m an albatross.”

“No, you’re a chicken,” Theseus grumped at him, but he didn’t look as angry anymore. He was first to stand up, and helped Thomas to get up on his feet. “And if you do that one more time, I’m going to defenestrate you myself.”

“What does ‘defenestrate’ mean?”

Theseus looked at him incredulously, then slapped a hand across his own forehead. “Ah, right. You forget some things when your brain’s like this. Defenestrate – it’s basically to throw someone out of the window.”

“Window?” If anything, Thomas’ brows went further up on his forehead.

Theseus sighed and extended a hand towards the transparent wall, knocking on it, “This is a window. I’ve already told you, like, ten times.”

Right. Thomas nodded confidently – Theseus talked to him about windows, specifically asking him not to try and break them with his face.

Or a sword.

Or a baseball bat.

Or a steel chair.

‘Where the fuck did you even get that from?’ Theseus cried out that time, yanking the chair out of his hands. Later on, Thomas had learned that he wasn’t supposed to break the windows with anything, not just the objects that had been specifically mentioned to him.

“Go on, then,” Thomas said. “Defenestrate me.”

If Theseus was drinking something at this moment, he’d certainly choke on it. “What- why would you want me to defenestrate you?”

“You look like you want it,” Thomas shrugged.

“Well- I do. But do you know what I don’t want? For you to break your neck on impact.”

“I wouldn’t break my neck. I can fly.”

Blue-eyed gaze danced between Theseus’ exasperated face and the window. It seemed like his brother was ready to blow up at any moment. Thomas didn’t understand why – he just stated a simple fact. He opened his wings, demonstrating the freshly preened feathers, arranged for long and long hours of restless flight. Theseus must’ve understood that he wasn’t going to give in: his expression went from annoyed to straight up sour, eyes skirting from looking directly into Thomas’ face; by every means, he looked like he was about to do something he knew he’d regret in the future.

“Alright,” Theseus said, lips pressed into a thin line. “Prove it to me then.”

Thomas almost tried climbing out of the window again, but Theseus quickly cut him off and led him into the backyard instead. Surrounded by a tall wooden fence, it was a small but peaceful place with a few trees and bushes poking around here and there. It didn’t seem like the owner was the one to plant them, more as if they were here long before the house was and continued to grow on their own, scenery undisturbed save for the obviously recently mowed grass and a bench resting under a sprawling willow. Thomas grabbed the lowest branch and pulled himself up. Theseus cursed and tried to drag him off, and received a light kick to his chest.

“I can’t take off the ground,” he informed Theseus. “There’s no wind.”

“What a joke of an avian you are if you need wind to fly,” Theseus snorted. “But whatever. Just make sure not to climb too high.”

Thomas felt his lips tugging into a smile, the one that Theseus liked to call a ‘happy idiot grin.’ “Are you worried about me?”

“Of course not. I just don’t want to waste money on your funeral,” Theseus said whilst his tail was still nervously brushing the ground. Thomas could’ve sworn he saw Theseus flinch when he climbed one of the higher branches and started walking on it, arms spread wide. The avian took purposefully long to find his balance, leaning to either side just to spite Theseus and watch his face stretch in grimaces of very poorly masked worry.

“Are you going to jump or what?” Theseus said, eventually running out of patience.

“It’s not that high. You don’t need to shout at me.”

“I’m not shouting!”

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“You are literally still shouting.”

“-Just fucking jump already!”

With a smirk and a chuckle, Thomas stretched his wings. The evening breeze couldn’t flow properly here with all the houses and buildings in its way, but he could still feel it dancing through his feathers, tugging at his heart telling him to be closer to the ocean. He might take a quick trip. Maybe even now, right after he’d prove Theseus he could, in fact, fly.

Thomas jumped from the tree. It was all a matter of instincts from now on. Spread his wings, feel the air pushing at them from below, soar-

Or fall.

One of the wings shot up with sharp pain, and Thomas yelped as it shrank instinctively closer to his body. The other one ended up whacking the air uselessly, trying to make up for the loss of balance, but it only succeeded in plummeting him towards the ground faster.

Thomas heard someone swear loudly. Wide eyes flashed in front of his vision, and two hybrids were sent rolling in a ball of tangled limbs and feathers.

“You’re crushing my tail!” Theseus hissed, shoving Thomas off himself and jumping to his feet. He brushed off dirt from his clothes and hair, fluffed up his tail, swinging it from side to side in irritation. If he snarled anything more, Thomas didn’t hear it. He couldn’t hear at all, not the birds, not the shuffling of bugs and small animals in the grass, nor the ringing of a bell in the distance; his entire world had come down to the sunset sky above. His wing wasn’t hurting as much anymore, pain turning into little more than a faint throb, but it ached in a completely different way when he saw a couple of seagulls drifting past them.

A hand was waved in front of his face. Thomas blinked, his vision coming into focus again, and he noticed Theseus staring at him expectantly, one brow raised.

“I warned you,” he said.

Thomas’ instincts were pulling at him again. They recognized the knit tightening in his chest and were craving for comfort even before the disappointment could properly set in. That, for some reason, made his blood boil. Instead of accepting Theseus’ hand stretched out to help him, Thomas slapped it away and rolled over to his side with a half-growling, half-hissing, “Get lost.”

Smugness was dropped from Theseus’ face. Thomas could feel a gaze burning his back as he stood up and shook his wings a couple of times, trying to get them properly folded even as the stiffness of his muscles made him wince. When he turned, Theseus wasn’t even trying to hide his concern; he put one his hand into his pocket and the other one awkwardly patted Thomas’ shoulder. Already regretting his previous reaction, Thomas didn’t pull away from the touch.

“That’s not the end of the world, you know,” Theseus coughed.

Thomas tried looking everywhere but not Theseus’ eyes. “Is it not, though?” he asked. “What is a world for a bird without flight?”

“You just insulted penguins, ostriches, chickens and a whole shit ton of other not-flying birds. If every single one of them had an existential crisis like you, they would’ve taken over the world already.”

“I’m not a chicken.”

“Sometimes I almost wish you were,” Theseus sighed. He looked straight up uncomfortable, now. “Listen, it’s really… Not that big of a deal, alright? I mean, you’ve been just fine without flight this whole time.”

“I guess,” Thomas mumbled, not sounding convinced even to himself.

A lamp lit up on the second floor of the house. Tommy waved at them from the other side of the window, arm locked around Lucid’s elbow, effectively pinning him to his side. Lucid pressed his forehead against the glass, every visible inch of his face displaying discomfort. “Looks like Lucid’s human interaction limit had run out,” Theseus said. “Let’s rescue him while he didn’t try to murder Tommy.”

Thomas hummed something in-between acknowledgement and agreement. Theseus guided him back to the nest, where Tommy and Lucid were already preparing for sleep. Thomas usually would be eager to join them, but this time, his mind was preoccupied with a completely different matter.

He continued to think about the flight incident for hours afterwards, even as the night fell fully and took over the last hints of twilight in the sky. His brothers were long asleep by now, or so did he think, until Theseus rolled over from where he was facing the wall, flicking his ears in irritation.

“Thomas, it’s like three in the morning,” he hissed. “Why are you not asleep yet?”

“You’re not sleeping, either,” Thomas pointed out.

“Raccoons are nocturnal animals, you dumbass, I’m not supposed to. But you don’t see me shuffling around and disturbing others’ rest.” A pillow was thrown his way blindly. It bounced off Thomas’ back and fell on a bundle near him. It stirred, someone moving under it, and Lucid’s sleepy eyes peeked out from under the blanket cautiously.

“Fuckin’ great,” Theseus grumped. “Now the night light is awake, too.”

Lucid glowed in the dark. Not just his eyes, but he was insistent on covering almost every inch of his skin just so he wouldn’t wither anybody accidentally in his sleep, and the faint scars weren’t as visible through the clothes. Even now, it felt as if somebody turned the lights on and off every time Lucid blinked. Sleepy or not, he registered Theseus’ words, and after promptly flipping him off, Lucid got out of the blankets completely and crawled over to Thomas by the window.

‘What are you looking at?’ the notebook said.

Thomas pointed at the window as a shadow parted from the house’s roof on the other side. Crow feathers shone black and blue in the moonlight; Phil gilded and twirled in the sky leisurely in an elegant, prolonged glide. Thomas could tell that his balance was off, probably because of the missing primaries, but still. Phil was flying. And Thomas was bound to the ground.

His instincts and emotions about Phil were complicated. Thomas didn’t want the other avian anywhere near his flockmates; they were his brothers, and anybody who’d try to claim them would have to get through him first. If all three of them, however, were temporarily out of the picture, safely resting in the nest, the static in his head calmed down and Thomas could feel a strange link between himself and Phil. Perhaps it came from the natural pull every person and every animal felt to their roots. Perhaps it came from the childhood memories of a boy who craved family and love. If his avian part got manifested earlier – before the exile, before the L’manburg, before the SMP – or if Phil was present at any of these points in his life – this connection might’ve turned as strong as the one binding him to his brothers.

Alas.

None of that happened or will ever happen. Thomas had to bear with the empty hole in his chest, even if his instincts knew the exact person who could fill it. Phil landed in the backyard, tucking away his wings. For a brief moment, his face was lit up by a lantern hanging above the back door. Thomas leaned closer to the window, his gaze searching – and dreading, at the same time – of meeting Phil’s eyes. He felt like one of the moths dancing around the lantern, attracted to light but not quite daring to come any closer for the fear of burning his wings.

He probably would’ve been angry with himself for this momentary slip of weakness if he was coherent enough for it. Right now, though, watching as Phil disappeared in the house, never noticing the two pairs of eyes tracking his every step, Thomas just felt sad. For a long moment, Lucid sat silent and motionless. His legs were pulled up to his chest, back arched from where he was resting his elbows on his knees. Thomas eyed him from the corner of his vision, both taken aback and tugged closer by the sympathy in the glowing eyes. There wasn’t anything Lucid could say to make him feel better, but perhaps he didn’t need to. His comfortable presence, a wordless offer to simply be here was enough to lift up a weight from Thomas’ chest.

Lucid reached for the quill again. ‘Do you want me to preen your wings?’ he asked.

“I don’t think they need to be preened right now.”

‘But do you want me to?’

“…I do,” Thomas admitted.

An arm was thrown around his shoulders, but Lucid was too far away for it to belong to him. Thomas chirped with surprise as Tommy appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, his head tilted and mouth opening in a wide yawn. “I want to help,” he said.

Thomas’ instincts, keeping eerily silent throughout the last few minutes, perked up. With the warmth coursing through his veins, a word of agreement on his lips trailed off into a chirp and a rumble. Tommy and Lucid were already used to it, though; they wordlessly picked a side to sit at, behind and to the back of his wings, and set to work.

At some point, Theseus rose up, a blanket around his shoulders and long unbraided hair falling in his face. Thomas could almost hear it, him complaining about the minimal noise – an occasional chirp or shuffle – either of them made. Tommy cut in before either of the hybrids had a chance to say a word, “Theseus, you wanna join us?”

Theseus closed his mouth and set his jaw tight. It was easy to tell if he was worried about the answer from the frantic movements of his tail, going at an impressive speed comparable to one of a helicopter blade.

“You’ve ruined all my plans on getting a good night’s sleep, anyway,” Theseus finally said, moving closer.

The next morning, when Thomas woke up, his mind was crystal-clear, and he found a certain grumpy-looking raccoon curled up next to his side.

“Theseus,” Thomas slowly said, an underlying threat to his voice. “Why are you hugging me?”

Relief flashed on Theseus' face. “Welcome back, normal Thomas,” he said. “Open your eyes wider, you’re the one hugging me.”

To Thomas’ absolute horror, Theseus was right. He was hugging the other hybrid’s arm, practically slumped at his side, and pressing his check against the other’s shoulder. Thomas jumped away as if he got burned by the contact, stumbled on a pillow and accidentally kicked Theseus’ ribs, making him double over with a strained gasp.

“What the fuck!” they yelped at the same time. A long pause followed, where the two of them stared at each other, until Theseus cursed again and rubbed his chest.

“If that’s your reaction now, I wonder what you’re gonna say once you learn about everything else that happened in the last few days,” Theseus said. The expression on his face, going from pained to curious and then straight-up anticipating, made it painfully apparent that Thomas was not going to like what he’d be told.

***

“I did what?”

Thomas’ intuition wasn’t wrong this time, but oh boy how much did he wish it was.

In the living room, Lucid and Tommy were sitting on the couch and playing cards, every once in a while cutting into Theseus’ narration with a remark or two. The more they spoke, the further Thomas’ head sank into his arms. It didn’t help that the memories were returning to him in a steady flow: starting from him building endless pillow nests and ending with the last night’s conversation. Thomas wasn’t just the color of a tomato, no. He was dipped head-down into permanent fucking red dye.

“One time Theseus got really annoyed and tried to get out of your hug,” Tommy continued chattering. He put a card in front of Lucid, and if Thomas wasn’t busy dying from embarrassment, he’d get concerned with the fact that the game they were playing looked suspiciously a lot like poker. “You started crying. Like legit crying, with tears and shi- uh, where are you going?”

Thomas left him without an answer. Lucid quitted his attempts to sneakily peek into Tommy’s cards, and leaned over the back of the couch, watching as he walked through the room and grabbed Phil’s shovel, left lying in a pile with other tools while its owner was busy doing something in the kitchen. “I’m going to bury myself alive,” he said.

“What- why’d you want that?”

Tommy threw a wide look at Theseus. “He’s just joking, right?”

A roll of his eyes, and a dismissing wave – Theseus clearly wasn’t taking this as serious as Thomas was. “He’s just being a drama queen. Of course, he’s joking.”

Thomas was not, in fact, joking.

Almost the entire house was in the back garden, save for Wilbur, who Thomas assumed to be in his room. Judging by the look on Techno’s face, he might call his twin to join them soon. Whatever, really; Thomas had little care for the crowd expanding as he continued, time after time, digging the shovel into soft soil and throwing it into a pile to the side of his future grave. This was it, he decided. This was the only way Thomas could live – or not live – after the humiliation he had been through.

“Shouldn’t you, I don’t know, stop him?” Techno asked.

“Nah,” Theseus allowed himself to lean on a tree, crossing his arms on his chest. “I’m good just watching the show.”

Lucid fiddled with the edge of his sleeve, not as much out of worry as out of boredom. Tommy kept glancing around between him and Thomas, the only of his brothers who seemed mildly concerned with the situation. The grimace he made was certainly not one of surprise, though. Phil cast a look at them and ran a hand down his face. “I understand that this is a regular occurrence.”

“Of course it is,” Techno snorted before either of them had a chance to answer. “This is the only way I can picture Tommy putting up with himself.”

“What did you just say, bitch?” Tommy screeched.

“I’m not wrong, am I?”

Techno raised a brow, and Tommy, ready to spat out an answer, dipped his head, the obvious insult on his tongue trailing off into a quiet, “Well, no-”

“Told so-”

“But we don’t usually try to bury ourselves alive. Others, maybe.” A pointed look was thrown Lucid’s way. Lucid just shrugged, as if saying, ‘fair enough.’

The shovel was stuck into the ground and was left standing there while Thomas dropped himself into the hole. Grime was getting all over his wings, but remembering how he clung to others, practically begging to be preened, made him want to rub them into dirt on purpose. Who knew, maybe he'd be able to die from wing parasites or some shit. “Pardon me, you’re right,” Thomas said, overly cheerful. “Lucid, help me bury myself, please.”

Under Tommy’s betrayed look, Lucid walked over to the shovel and threw a first portion of dirt onto Thomas’ grief-consumed face. “Why are you even surprised?” Theseus huffed at Tommy. “Lucid literally has no spine.”

Uh oh. Thomas saw the exact moment Lucid switched into murder mode, the glow of his eyes flaring up and head tilting dangerously. And who was digging himself a grave here? Theseus clearly knew what he had been doing; dodging a shovel-full of dirt thrown in his direction with a smirk and a confident flick of his tail, “Aha, you missed-”

The chances of Lucid gaining the speed of light and attacking you are low, but they are never zero. The blunt side of the shovel kissed Theseus’ face and sent him shuddering with his entire body and falling on his back with a heavy thud. Lucid swung the shovel again, and the commotion could’ve ended with a real funeral if it wasn’t for Phil jumping in and catching the tool’s handle.

“Okay, that’s it,” he declared, wrestling the shovel out of Lucid’s hands. “Nobody’s going to kill or bury anyone today.” Lucid lowered his gaze, swaying back and forth on his feet sheepishly. Tommy, who timely swan-dived out of his way, peeked out from the bush he was hiding in. Thomas eyed the entire scene indifferently even as Phil walked up to him and cut off the bright sun with his half-folded wings, “That includes you too, mate.”

“Let me die in peace, old man. The fact that you refuse to stop bothering this mortal world doesn’t mean that everybody else does, too,” Thomas brushed him off, rolling over to his side. In the hole that barely fit him even with the wings wrapped around his shoulders and torso, he immediately came face-to-face with more cold dirt. Even then, he refused to acknowledge the other avian’s presence until he was grabbed by his collar like a misbehaving puppy and promptly yanked to his feet.

“Stop being such a dramatic shit,” Techno said, growing seemingly out of nowhere. “You’re lying around like you have nothing better to do-”

“I don’t.”

“What about Dream?” Techno raised a brow. “You’re okay with him running around freely?”

Damn it. Logical people and their… logic. A bitter taste lingered on Thomas’ tongue – he was already getting angry at himself for forgetting about Dream. Thomas jerked Techno’s hands off and frowned, “You didn’t find him yet?”

“Now you want our help,” Techno grumped.

Phil put a hand on his shoulder before Thomas could come up with a snarly answer. Picking fights wasn’t his main goal now, so he just rolled his eyes and let it slide with nothing more but an ‘accidental’ elbow-shove to Techno’s stomach. “We didn’t,” Phil confirmed. “Me and my Chat have been looking around the town, but there’s not even a trace of Dream anywhere. It’s like he just completely disappeared.”

A sinking feeling settled in Thomas’ stomach, and he felt his breath’s pace picking up rapidly. No, he was not going to have a panic attack right now, especially not in front of Phil and Techno. Thomas looked away, hiding the spark of panic in his eye, and swallowed down a lump in his throat. “You don’t know Dream like I do,” he said. “If there’s anybody who can find him, it’s me.”

Or Dream’s going to find you first, Thomas couldn’t help but think. His gaze wandered off to Tommy, who crawled out of the bush clumsily, and switched to Lucid pulling his scarf down to stick out his tongue at Theseus. A faint murmur of the voice in Thomas’ head turned into harsh, accusing whisper at the mere thought of leaving either of them unguarded. It was really arguable who needed more protection between Lucid and Theseus, but Thomas got so used to sharing the ‘adult’ responsibilities with his pseudo-twin that it became something on an instinctual level.

“Lucid, you’re going with me,” he said. “Theseus, you’re staying with Tommy.”

Theseus crossed his arms. “How about no? No, as in, I’m not taking the babysitting duty again.”

“I’m not a baby!” Tommy punched Theseus' shoulder, but the only thing he got in return was an impressed look.

“Yes you are,” Theseus deadpanned. “You can’t even pack a proper punch.”

Tommy bit his lips, aggravated. “Teach me then, bitch!” he challenged.

To Thomas’ great relief, Theseus accepted the offer. He wasn’t in the mood to argue with anyone right now, and it was making things for him just a little bit easier. Whether Tommy did it on purpose or it was just a coincidence, Thomas didn’t know, but still made a point to reward him later in some way.

Too involved in their conversation, neither Thomas nor anybody else in the backyard noticed Wilbur standing behind one of the windows of the house with a strange look on his face.

Chapter Text

Time travel is bullshit.

That was a conclusion Wilbur came to five minutes into interacting with so-proclaimed older versions of Tommy.

Despite the stark similarities in their appearances, he couldn't recognize his baby brother in either of the three. Thomas lacked Tommy's unpredictability, his courage and unyielding energy, Theseus – his empathy, and Lucid… It was pretty fucking obvious what was wrong with Lucid, actually. The guy didn’t even speak , and that was put in contrast with Tommy who was positively impossible to make shut up.

No, Tommy couldn’t be silent. He couldn’t be selfish or uncaring, either, and never have he ever been a coward afraid of his own shadow. Wilbur didn’t see anything familiar in any of them, which meant that Thomas and Theseus were blatant liars.

“People tend to change, you know,” Techno said the other day. Perhaps it was meant to be an off-hand comment, restatement of an obvious truth, but it made Wilbur’s blood boil to the point he was openly shaking with fury. Admitting Techno to be right would be equivalent to accepting, even if to a small degree, that Tommy could ever turn into one of these strangers – so he didn’t.

His hostile behavior towards the trio Phil took for jealousy. He wasn’t exactly wrong; more than that, now that Tommy spent almost his entire day with them, Wilbur thought he had all the reasons to be jealous. Tommy was his brother. Wilbur practically raised him, from a toddler who couldn't fall asleep without a song to lull him into sweet dreams, who couldn't stop crying without a hug to reassure him after scraping his knee. Wilbur watched Tommy grow, watched him learn, watched him become the kid he was now, and even if it felt like a hardship chore at times, he wouldn't trade their shared childhood for the world.

(Wilbur knew Tommy better than any other living soul, and he didn’t recognize him in the three strangers claiming to be from the future. It wasn't because Wilbur saw the echoes of Tommy's fire in Thomas' gaze that he avoided looking into his eye. It wasn't because of how childishly Lucid chased around a butterfly when he thought nobody was looking that Wilbur stayed out of the backyard. He didn’t see anything familiar in the stubborn loyalty Theseus' followed Techno around with, and he couldn’t imagine a younger boy trailing Wilbur himself in a similar manner.)

Wilbur continued to deny the obvious up until a certain incident occurred a couple days ago. He and Thomas ran into each other in the corridor, no Theseus or Lucid in sight. Phil had warned him earlier that the instinct-driven avian might act hostile towards him, but aggression was the last thing he could see in the widened blue eye locked onto his own brown.

They would’ve stood like that for a long time, just stupidly staring at each other for hours on end, if Thomas wouldn’t sway uncertainly on his feet and stumble towards him. An unsure smile softened the avian’s features as he wrapped his arms around Wilbur’s shoulders, encasing him into a careful hug.

Once out of daze, Wilbur pushed him away. The wounded sound that Thomas made as he hurried away haunted him the following night.

***

After Thomas, Lucid and Phil left, the backyard was turned into an impromptu training ground.

Tommy was trying to punch Theseus, but the hybrid danced out of his way each time, tail swinging and feet moving faster than one could blink. The smirks and mocking insults spilling from his mouth only resulted in riling Tommy up; with his sweat-stained shirt sticking to his back, and chest heaving unevenly, the boy continued to lunge at Theseus with raised fists.

It was embarrassing to think that Theseus himself was once as short-tempered and weak as Tommy now, but he would lie if he said if he wasn’t having at least a tad bit of fun from watching him struggle.

Alright. Maybe he did have a lot of fun, so what? If Theseus had to be dragged into this weird family dynamic, at least allow him to choose a role inside of it. They already had a mother hen Thomas and a cryptid middle child Lucid, so Theseus decided to become what they clearly have been missing so far – jerk of an older brother.

“You’re a bully,” Tommy whined, after he almost managed to land a punch to Theseus’ face, only for the hybrid to catch his fist and twist it out of the way.

Techno was sitting under a tree with a book. Theseus wasn’t tricked with his pointed indifference; crimson eyes glancing up, fingers clenching the cover tighter each time a punch was missed, he clearly was watching the sparring session attentively.

“Surprise attack!” Tommy yelped, ducking under Theseus’ arm and attempting to butt his stomach. Theseus stepped out of the way, not even batting an eye, and the boy flew past him and landed face-first into dirt.

Techno shut his book. “Tommy, it’s not a surprise attack if you’re shouting it out loud,” he said, exasperated. “Especially if the enemy can literally see you. ”

Tommy rolled to his back and raised himself up on his palms, spitting dirt with an angry frown. “If you’re so smart, try it yourself,” he snapped.

It was the only invitation that Techno needed. The book was discarded aside as he stood up and rolled his shoulders. Theseus laughed nervously, “Are you sure about this?”

“What, are you scared?” Techno raised a brow.

‘To spar with you? No ,’ Theseus thought. ‘ Having a breakdown in the process? Yes, very much so .’

He didn’t say that out loud, of course. Not only that would be extremely embarrassing, but Theseus wouldn’t be able to explain his own reaction without revealing anything critical. For the last few days, Wilbur kept nagging them with off-hand questions about the future. As the result, Theseus and Thomas agreed that they should keep their mouths shut and try to reveal as little information as possible. A blunt ‘sorry, you kinda got killed in my timeline, and I’m trying not to think about it too much’ definitely would be a huge bomb to drop on Techno.

Haha. A bomb.

Fuck, Theseus might not even have to fight, he was perfectly capable of causing a breakdown to himself.

Techno was still waiting for an answer, and a long pause was only making it awkward for both of them. Finally, Theseus was able to feel his own neck again, and he shook his head with an exaggeratedly confident smirk. “Me, afraid? Never .”

In proof of his own words, Theseus clenched his hands tighter and slipped into a stance – moved his feet apart, lowering his body. He lunged himself at Techno first. Whether it was instincts or Techno had expected his attack, but he made a swift move to block it – unnecessarily, as Theseus already retreated with his fists raised.

They were both warming up in a sequence of quick attacks and dodges. Tommy, who got to his feet and moved out of the way as soon as Techno stepped in, was still panting and struggling to breathe normally. In contrast, Theseus hasn't broken a sweat. Yet. Techno was packing his punches and moved lazily, almost as if he was underwater, and it left an impression that Theseus was, somehow, being tested.

Back at the Arctic commune, Techno never held himself back. He couldn’t afford to be gentle when he was preparing Theseus for a fight that his life, in the most straightforward way possible, was dependent on. Even when the danger of Dream attacking has seemingly passed, their training remained as brutal, and more often than not they passed on a bottle of a healing potion to soothe the throb of their bruises.

Theseus’ muscles sang with pain – a pleasant type that made energy pound throughout his whole body. He was terribly out of practice, but the training sank so deep into his bones that it couldn’t be carved out with a heated knife. It felt ecstatic to let instincts take the wheel, catching a glimpse of Techno’s surprise when he was forced to match Theseus’ rapid pace. In the heat of the fight, Theseus failed to notice when memories started creeping up on him.

Different place, same opponent. Needles of cold attempting to stab him and recoiling from the blistering heat of his skin. A tiny cloud of steam rising from his half-opened, trembling lips. After a blink of snow-covered eyelashes, the man in front of him turned suddenly younger and smaller, and a strong hit, weakly blocked by crossed arms, sent Theseus flying backwards.

The fall didn’t register. Like through a mist of an afternoon dream, Theseus was looking at the open sky and hasteless sway of tree branches. And then Tommy appeared by his side, looking moderately concerned, “Are you okay, big man? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Suddenly, Theseus’ shoulder was hurting, grass was tickling his bare neck, and he wasn’t in the Arctic commune anymore. He swallowed down hard, letting out a short hysterical chuckle – Tommy had no idea how right and at the same time wrong he was.

“I lost. Of course I’m not okay,” he huffed, sluggishly shoving Tommy away. “Leave me alone with my shattered pride.”

Tommy accepted Theseus’ joke as a confirmation that he was fine. He disappeared from his vision, swift as an arrow, and was replaced with a broader and taller figure. Techno – Techno from the past, alive and well, loomed over Theseus with an unreadable expression on his face.

“I’ve trained you,” he said.

“You did,” Theseus pushed himself upright, his lips half-stretched in a crooked, sour smile.

Silence settled. It lasted for a while, Theseus still trying to recollect himself and not daring to look up. They say that eyes are the mirror of the soul, and if that’s true, then Techno wouldn’t see anything in his but a thousand shattered pieces.

Theseus was in conflict. It was creepy to look into his own face – albeit a little uglier – when he first spoke to Thomas, but never have ever his instincts protested as much as at the moment Techno offered him a hand, chanting an endless row of wrong wrong wrong .

Theseus was perfectly aware that this wasn’t Techno – not his Techno – and yet… His senses were telling him otherwise. In a quick glance up, Theseus’ eyes traced familiar features. His ears, still ringing with Techno’s deep, rumbling voice, confirmed the same thing. Theseus was good at lying to himself, so he ignored his instincts and took the scarred hand, shuddering weakly at the way its warmth burned.

“Round two?” Theseus asked, before Techno barely had a chance to open his mouth.

“Round two,” Techno confirmed. “Want to try weapons this time?”

Theseus’s hands itched at the suggestion. He clearly underestimated how much he missed training with Techno. “You’re on. I’ll bring my axe.”

He faintly remembered leaving the Axe of Peace back at their room, so he walked towards the house, leaving Techno waiting in the backyard. Theseus knew to expect questions the moment he heard Tommy’s steps behind, “Techno looks impressed.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Exactly! How did you manage that?”

Theseus smirked, stepping through the open doorway. “You heard it. Techno was my mentor. If he and Phil didn’t train me, I wouldn’t last a minute.”

“Well,” Tommy sighed. “I don’t know about your Phil and Techno, but in this world, they’d never make time for that.”

Ah. That one hurt. Despite Theseus’ immediate desire to defend Techno, he had to admit that Tommy was right. “I’m sure they would, if you asked,” he said, awkwardly rubbing his neck.

Theseus first heard the shuffling when they were walking up the stairs, his ears jerking up on instinct. He wouldn’t be bothered by it if it wasn’t for the fact that the sounds were coming from their bedroom. His steps were nearly silent as he approached the closed door, and even Tommy, noticing the tension of his movements, kept his mouth shut.

He jerked the handle and threw the door open. In the room, Wilbur jumped up with a half-hiss, half-curse, his shoulders spiking up, and his face with a clear expression of someone who got caught in the middle of a crime.

First things first, the room was in a mess. Well, with all the blankets and pillows on the floor in an odd imitation of a bird nest, it had been a mess all along – but it was Thomas-created mess that Theseus already got used to, and he didn’t like someone else ruining it. Bags with their stuff, stashed away in a corner, were opened and clearly rummaged through.

As soon as it dawned on him that Wilbur had been looking through their things, Theseus couldn’t stop himself from hissing. It turned into a full-on growl, his teeth bared and chest vibrating with the deep, threatening sound, when he focused on two objects in Wilbur’s hands. One, a very familiar leather journal with Karl’s spiral symbol on it that Wilbur was quick to stash away into the pocket of his jacket. Two, his cape.

Theseus clearly remembered hiding it under one of the beds. He only took it out once, deep at night, when everybody else was asleep, to hide his face into soft furs and rich crimson fabric. After all these months, it mostly smelled of grass, dirt and Theseus’ himself, but if he buried his nose deep enough, he’d catch a very faint and so dear scent that made his chest ache. And now, Wilbur was touching the cape with his greasy hands, getting his stench all over it.

“Wil, you need to put that down now, or Theseus might actually murder you,” Tommy said.

“Over a cape?” Wilbur’s expression was smug and not in the slightest concerned with Tommy’s warning. He raised the cape higher in front of himself with a scrutinizing look, and his eyes flickered back to Theseus. “Who are you, a wanna-be Techno?”

He threw the cape at Theseus, however. Maybe he got scared when the raccoon hybrid took a step towards him, puffed-up tail thumping against the floor. Theseus caught the cape and immediately wrapped it around his shoulders, clasping it at the front. “What’s wrong with wanting to be like your older brother?” he huffed.

“Techno?” Wilbur raised a brow. “Look-at-how-menacing-I-am overgrown pig?”

Theseus pressed his lips into a thin line, “Well, anything works when the other option is you .”

Wilbur looked like he got slapped across his face. Good , Theseus internally snarled. He deserved every bit of poison dripping from his tongue. Now that cape was back in his possession, his eyes were locked on the journal sticking out of Wilbur’s pocket. Theseus knew that he didn’t get a chance to read it properly yet, or otherwise this conversation would go in a completely different direction.

“Hey, maybe not go that far,” Tommy cut in, and that was when Theseus sprang into action.

Wilbur let out a shriek as Theseus rugby-tackled him, trying to get to the journal. His shoulder, hurt during the sparring session earlier, throbbed as they rolled on the floor. Between a noodle-build musician and a trained soldier, it was clear who would eventually win, but Wilbur wasn't keen on surrendering that easily, keeping his pocket squeezed under his own weight and out of his opponent’s reach.

“I’d bite you,” Theseus hissed, kicking Wilbur away and leaping to his feet. “but unlike real raccoons, I am too squeamish to sink my teeth into trash.”

Wilbur was the one to lunge at him this time. Tommy tried to get in-between them and was tossed away into the remains of Thomas’ nest, and the fight emerged anew. Too busy trying to claw each other’s eyes out, both Theseus and Wilbur failed to notice that something was going wrong until they slowed down to catch a breath and heard Tommy’s suspiciously quiet, “Guys?”

Theseus kicked Wilbur away, whipping around to face Tommy. The boy was half-lying on his back, propped up on his elbows, and staring at something above them with an expression of utter shock. Once Theseus followed his gaze, he felt like the look on his face wasn’t any better. A blistering purple and green circle was floating in the air, quickly widening in size. It resembled a Nether portal, but rather than simply swirling, it spat particles so bright that it hurt Theseus’ eyes.

A spiral was in the center, changing color a hundred times per second. If Theseus had epilepsy, he’d be long dead already; otherwise it just made him feel sick. He was able to force himself to look away, but Tommy kept staring, mesmerized by the spinning pattern.

Reflexes kicked in. Theseus lunged at Tommy to grab and drag him as far as possible. Instead, he felt the floor disappearing under his feet.

“Oh FUCK-” Theseus screamed, and then he got sucked into the portal.

Karl’s transportation methods haven’t improved since last time. Theseus cursed everything and everyone in existence as he was propelled through blinding-bright space. It felt like falling from a big height, but sideways, just with a lot more special effects thrown in. His only relief was that it was over soon. The colors dissolved in the air, and after a heartbeat of a moment of weightlessness, Theseus was plummeting towards the ground.

He landed on his chest, air knocked out of his lungs. As Theseus pulled himself up on his hands, he felt them instantly freezing where they had been buried wrist-deep in snow. Crispy thin air of a winter tundra scratched his throat; nausea rolled in and he struggled to take in a proper gulp of oxygen. By every criterion possible, he was feeling absolutely miserable.

“Karl, what the fuck are you-” Theseus started, throwing his head up, only to trail off in the middle of his sentence.

Brown eyes, blown as wide as his own, rounded facial features largely contrasted by a network of burn scars covering over his entire left check and part of his forehead, a book clenched in fingers so tightly the knuckles turned white – Theseus’ brain immediately registered that the person in front of him was not Karl. Much harder of a job was trying to comprehend who this boy was .

Theseus’ tongue felt like it was stuck to his palate, and his hands started shaking as he straightened and swayed on his feet like a drunken man. By the time he could finally hear the whispers of a name, hauntingly close to forming on his lips, he was afraid his voice might betray him.

“Tubbo?” he whispered.

“It worked!” Tubbo merely cast a glance to the book in his hands as he threw it away into the snow. Theseus trailed its flight with his eyes, brain too slow to catch up, and was almost thrown off his balance when a hurricane stumbled into him.

Everything about the hug was familiar; the arms wrapping around his ribs and squeezing at them lightly as Tubbo’s hands locked with each other on his back, the way he slid under Theseus’ chin and buried his face in his shoulder, the way horns prickled his skin – something Theseus had never told him about before, and kept silent about now, too, for the fear that he might pull away and fade like a afternoon dream.

“I’m so glad you’re alright,” Tubbo breathed out. “I thought you were gone.”

“’s alright,” Theseus mumbled mechanically. His eyes were burning. His chest was burning. Everything in him seemed to burn and flare and ache in waves as Tubbo’s words continued to echo in his ears: gone, gone, gone.

This was not possible. Tubbo was gone. By the time Theseus got to his body, it was already cold and still. Tubbo in his arms was breathing and alive, however; Theseus could hear his heartbeat, their chests rising up almost with the same rhythm, could melt in the warmth and the smell and the sheer feeling of having him close .

Tubbo was so close that Theseus, with one his eye open, could greedily take in every little crease of his skin. He didn’t forget what Tubbo looked like, not even for a single moment, even where he desperately wished he could; the image of the deathly pale face was permanently nailed in his memory. The only sign Theseus could recognize his Tubbo by was simultaneously the bitter reminder of what had become of their friendship; the scar of the Axe of Peace’s slash, the scar that Theseus himself left, was absent from the younger boy’s cheek.

Theseus stiffened. No matter if he’d understood what was going on twice or thrice or ten times, he still couldn’t force himself to pull away, just as he didn’t press Tubbo closer. He needed one more second to be lost in this fantasy: where his Tubbo was still alive, where he had forgiven Theseus and was telling him that everything was going to be okay.

These were foolish dreams. And, as the experience had shown, Theseus rarely got what he wanted. Tubbo finally noticed that something was off; his hand circled his back, searching for something that physically was not there.

“Tommy, where are your wings?” Tubbo sounded confused. Brown eyes looked bewildered as he raised his head and stared into Theseus’ stone-still expression. “And since when do you have raccoon ears?”

Theseus didn’t get a chance to answer. The book, lying discarded in the snow, started glowing, and the portal opened again. This time, Theseus had a chance to see what it looked like from the outside; all sparkles of purple and green, so bright that they were almost painful to look at. Theseus kept staring anyway, even as Tubbo instinctively closed his eyes, and saw the portal spatting out two more figures: Wilbur and Tommy, groaning and cursing profusely, but otherwise unharmed.

When Tubbo opened his eyes again, Theseus let him go, taking a quick moment to wipe at his own face – with a single tear that threatened to spill from his eye, the disappointment and the sadness and the pain were gone. It wasn’t the right moment for grief. It never was, not for Theseus.

He didn’t break down before, and he wouldn’t break down today.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “But I’m afraid that I’m not the Tommy you’re looking for.”

Chapter Text

Thomas missed out on some things in the time while his brains were on vacation, and it became the most apparent on their way to the town center. Phil was at the head of the group, telling them about where he had been looking for Dream so far, people he had talked to- but all Thomas could concentrate on was how close he was to Lucid and on a wing inconspicuously spreading over the boy’s back.

There were several things fundamentally wrong with this. It took them – Theseus, Thomas and Tommy – an entire month to get Lucid comfortable around them enough to stand this close, and Phil had known them for what- A week? Two, at the very most, and not even once had Lucid attempted to murder him in this time, which was just unfair .

Now, Thomas was perfectly aware that Lucid was more than capable of caring for himself. Fuck, he was a few months younger than him at the very most, but maybe it was Thomas’ instincts acting out again, or his personal dislike of Phil played its role – but an overwhelming urge to protect pushed him forward and almost shoving the other avian out of the way.

Lucid might have not noticed it, but Phil looked certainly surprised when Thomas glared at him in a way that clearly said, ‘ That’s my flockmate, and you better stay the fuck away.’

***

Thomas didn’t say that often, but he hated having just one eye. Not only it wrecked his coordination and sense of space for weeks after he’d lost the other one, but it practically nullified all the fighting and shooting skills he had gained throughout his adolescent years.

“Look on the bright side,” Tommy once chimed in. “You can wear an eye-patch and be a pirate.”

Thomas decided not to spoil the mood then but he wanted to say that it was totally not worth it. It’d be much easier for him if people wouldn’t keep forgetting not to approach him on his blind side, too. Lucid popping up at the edge of his vision made Thomas jerk away with a strangled scream – for the fourth time in the past hour.

This particular time, Thomas was too close to the edge of the roof. He slipped on flat surface, dropping himself forward; a strong hand grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him back.

“You’re alright?” Phil asked, concerned.

Thomas was not happy with the fact that Phil was the one to save him from having his brains smeared all over the pavement. Thomas wrestled his shirt out of Phil’s grip, glaring at Lucid over his shoulder, “I’d be fine if someone stopped jump-scaring me all the time.”

Lucid blinked and pointed at himself with his thumb. ‘Me?!’

“Yes, I’m talking about you, Lucid,” Thomas spat. “Why do you keep sneaking up on me?!”

“Mate, I think that’s just the way he walks,” Phil cut in.

Lucid put one foot down, then the other one. No sound of steps followed, and Thomas, prepared for a denying tirade, closed his mouth with a click.

“Well, can’t you just walk louder, then?” he said, still not keen on admitting his defeat.

Lucid made a face and demonstratively stomped around the roof, raising his knees high. Still, no sounds were made whatsoever, not even as his foot met a random metal can and he kicked it off the edge.

“What the fuck,” Thomas said. “How do you do that?”

And as if he hasn’t just broken all the laws of physics Thomas was aware of, Lucid simply shrugged. Phil to his right looked as confused as Thomas felt, and Phil never looked confused. Thomas knew before that Lucid was a mystery that made the Bermuda triangle seem like a common tourist destination, but not to the Phil-anomaly-recognition level.

“Okay, we need to do some experiments now. Get you a pair of squeaky clown shoes, or a cow bell, all one of these things they put on cat collars-”

It must’ve flashed in Lucid’s mind what he’d look like in each of these things, because he jumped up into the air with each his eyes the size of a cup, and then even the wind of him was gone. Further inspection of the roof has revealed that he hopped into some random card box and now was glaring at Thomas from inside of it.

“Look, that was a bad idea, I’m sorry-” Thomas said, raising his hands in defeat, but Lucid just hissed and flipped him off before climbing even further into his shelter.

“That is not a Wither hybrid. That’s a fucking cat,” Phil said, and burst into laughter.

“Imagine what I have to put up with every day,” Thomas sighed, returning back to his post, overlooking the town center. People passed in portions, left and right, north and south, and Thomas started feeling dizzy from looking too closely at them. Still no familiar freckled face with poison-green eyes. In every other situation, that’d be a good sign, but this time they were actually trying to find Dream, and this far, with no success at all.

“Do you have any ideas of where he could be?” Phil asked, squatting down beside him.

“No,” Thomas admitted. “I kind of assumed I’ll run into him as soon as we leave the house- but since we didn’t, we’ll have to keep looking the normal way.”

Phil raised a brow. “Is that really what your plan is?”

“Do you have anything better in mind?” Thomas hissed out. All these weird sounds in an albatrosses’ vocal range started coming to him much easier after his brains got overridden by instincts once. He wondered if he could excuse himself with the same instincts if he tackled Phil and threw him off the roof right now.

“Well, I’d scout around the skies, but…” Phil gestured at his wing, still short of flight feathers.

“Serves you right,” Thomas mumbled.

If Phil heard him, he didn’t comment on it. At this point it was impossible that he hadn’t noticed the hostility Thomas had been showing towards him since the start of the day.

“Well?” Thomas he challenged, wings bristling. “Anything you want to say to me?”

Phil looked at him, his head tilted. There were so many emotions flashing on his face at once – curiosity of his tilted head, confusion in his creased eyebrows – and yet together it all looked like kind sympathy and understanding. For some reason, Thomas had a lump formed in his throat.

“I think it might be the other way round, mate,” Phil said.

Fuck Phil and fuck his observance. Thomas swallowed down hard and looked away. It’s not that this Phil in particular had done anything to wrong him – but Doomsday has left him with wounds that are yet to heal and the crow avian’s presence just rubbed extra salt into them. Thomas had to remind himself that this man, looking at him with such sadness in his eyes – it’s the same person who abandoned him in his first home and took part in destroying the one he and Wilbur created for themselves.

Thomas wasn’t a vengeful person, but only when it came to the things that only he was wronged by, and Phil’s neglect extended, at least to some degree, to all of his brothers. Save for Theseus, maybe. Thomas was yet to get a full story out of him on how he came to mending things with his family. Lucid wouldn’t tell him anything, and Thomas wouldn’t demand that, either- but he was sure that whatever the fuck his Dream had done to him, Phil wasn’t there to stop it.

Thomas wished they could just get into a conflict or start an argument that would give him an excuse to shout and let out this burning feeling out of his chest. But staring at him like that, acting all patient and kind, Phil wasn’t making it any easier for Thomas to hate him.

They fell silent. At some point, Thomas’ wings started getting sore from being folded for too long, so he unclasped the cloak he was wearing and stretched them to their full length. Nothing could ever come close to the feeling of wind twirling between his feathers, all shiny and new after the recent molt; Thomas closed his eyes and melted into it. He could imagine himself soaring through the blue skies, bending the air and clouds with powerful flaps-

“Do you miss it?” Phil asked, breaking the dreamy illusion that Thomas almost managed to dive into.

Thomas opened his eye. “Miss what?”

“Flight,” Phil said.

In Thomas’ mind, he was still somewhere away from here, away from the ground and all its worries. Phil’s question didn’t anger him as much as it reminded him of why exactly it wasn’t possible.

“Can’t miss something I never experienced before, old man,” he said, leaning back.

“Oh,” Phil breathed out.

“Oh.” Thomas agreed.

“You’d be able to fly if you rebroke your wing and let it heal the right way this time,” Phil said carefully.

Thomas huffed. “No, thank you, I’d rather not fall from that height again.”

Not fall nor jump, but Phil didn’t need to know the details.

“Or you could let somebody break it for you. With the right combination and doses of healing and regeneration potions, it’d be as good as new in about a week.”

“Somebody?” Thomas prompted.

“Somebody you trust,” Phil elaborated.

Thomas chuckled dryly. “I hope you’re not implying yourself, because after that forest chase, I’m not letting you anywhere near my wings.”

Phil winced, but, in Thomas’ eye, there were ways much better than this to express his regrets. Like, you know, actually apologizing. “I mean, unless you conveniently know another avian in this town, you’d need my guidance anyway,” Phil said. “But I actually was thinking about one of your flockmates.”

For a whole minute, Thomas seriously considered Phil’s words. It’s not like he never thought of trying to re-break his wing, but he always imagined it as a solo experience rather than a collective effort. Something similar to yanking his own tooth out, except instead of a tooth and a thread he had a wholeass fucking limb, a hammer and a mirror- it was obvious why he never proceeded with the idea. But if it was one of his brothers instead…

Tommy was instantly crossed out of the list – Thomas would much rather not writhe in pain in front of a fourteen-year-old version of himself. The perspective of having his bone broken was not a pleasant one, but remembering the agony of growing wings in exile made any other potential wounds seem like mosquito bites, especially with the potion assistance. What he was more worried about was the speed and precision of the break. Lucky for Thomas, it just happened that they had a person in their group who wouldn’t only be glad to hurt him but who also had skills in snapping people’s bones. Probably necks, but still.

Turn threw a look over his shoulder to look at Lucid, and found that the box he had previously made himself comfortable in was now empty.

“Damn it,” Thomas sprang to his feet. “I knew I had to put a bell on him. Where did he go?”

Phil approached the box and picked up a piece of paper, pinned to the roof with a small stone. “It says that he got bored and went to explore the market. Don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll find him in no time.”

Telling Thomas not to worry was an efficient way to make him panic twice as much. It just sounded like a thing that one would say before everything starts going to shit. Thomas could already feel a wave of panic rolling up, but then Phil grabbed his arm and squeezed it lightly.

“Breathe, Thomas,” he said.

Thomas sucked in a sharp breath, and even though he wouldn’t admit it to a single living soul, it did help. The dark spots in his vision disappeared. The voice of worry still was shouting at him to hurry up and find Lucid, so he wrestled his arm out of Phil’s grip, dashed for the ladder at the side of the building and started climbing down. Phil – the showoff – glided past him and landed on the ground first.

“I’ll look this way,” he pointed at a line of stores to his left, and then at a scatter of colorful stalls right ahead, “And you can go there and-”

Thomas didn’t wait for him to finish speaking and sprinted straight into the crowd. It wasn’t as dense as on the day of the festival, but in his hurry, he bumped into people with his shoulders and uncovered wings. It was a fifty-fifty chance for him to either receive an angry remark or a gaze of admiration, but Thomas couldn’t care less; he kept calling Lucid’s name until he spotted him standing near one of the stalls.

“Lucid!” Thomas jumped up to him, grabbing his shoulder and spinning him around.

This could be the way of his death. His poor heart wasn’t going to handle any more scares like this. When a porcelain mask stared back at Thomas – not exactly like Dream’s, but in the haze it seemed like it was – he stumbled backwards and collapsed.

A few people passing by glared at him accusingly. Some mother, tugging a young boy by his hand, had even pointed a finger at him, probably telling her son that normal people don’t lie on the ground. If Thomas’ throat didn’t feel so tight, he’d say that excuse me, I didn’t choose to have low blood pressure, but otherwise just groaned and rolled to his side.

Lucid popped up – and Thomas would recognize that notebook sticking out of his pocket anywhere – and offered him a hand. Thomas just stared at him, dumfounded. To be more precise, he stared at the mask on Lucid’s face that flickered with purple and changed its picture from a smiling face to a fucking question mark .

“What type of witchcraft is that?” Thomas asked, after he got his voice back and accepted Lucid’s hand.

‘It’s enchanted. Copies whatever expression I have on.’

Lucid put the mask off, revealing his glowing eyes and a sheepish grin. When he put it back on, the mask glinted with purple for a blink of a moment and stared at Thomas with a wink and a smirk. How the fuck two dots and a line for a mouth could be so expressive?

“You scared the living shit out of me,” Thomas said, breathing out deeply. There was still a faint tremble in his hands that only went away once he clenched and unclenched his fists, the pain of nails digging into skin grounding him in the moment. “Please don’t run away like this anymore.”

Thomas suddenly remembered Theseus calling him a ‘fucking mother hen-albatross’ earlier this morning - and it made him want to laugh now that he could see that Theseus was right about that one. He did really worry about his brothers a lot.

“;(“

Thomas decided to count that as Lucid was feeling remorseful. Now that the initial shock had settled down, he had to admit – the mask was cool. It could simplify their means of communication with Lucid by a lot – not mentioning how happy and proud the boy looked to have it. Now that Lucid saw that Thomas was feeling better, he kept putting the mask on and off, as if asking him, ‘ You see this, right?’

“I do, I do. You can stop bragging now,” Thomas said, but his lips were already in a traitorously wide smile.

He heard Phil’s wings rustling. Thomas and Lucid exchanged a conspiring glance – are you thinking what I’m thinking? – and turned around just in time to see him stumbling out of the crowd.

“Good, you’ve found him- what the fuck is that ?”

“o_o”

“Hi, Phil, meet Lucid’s new mask,” Thomas introduced. “It will haunt your nightmares for the rest of your existence.”

“Probably,” Phil admitted, eyeing them both with a carefully managed expression. There was a crow sitting on his shoulder – one of the blue-eyed little spies that followed him around everywhere. Thomas wouldn’t even spare it a glance if it didn’t make an anxious sound and nibble on Phil’s cheek. Maybe it was intuition, or maybe his bird heritage included every other winged creature passing down its emotions on Thomas – but he could feel his veins turning cold as a distinct sense of dread filled his body.

“…Did something happen?”

“Techno sent it. I’m not sure if it got it right, but-” Phil hesitated, “it says that Tommy, Theseus and Wilbur all disappeared without a trace.”

***

Thomas was pacing the room anxiously, wings hovering over his back. He was knocking things off the shelves as he went, but the last thing he’d be worried about when two of his flockmates are missing was breaking a random souvenir.

“Purple sparkles? A portal? Are you absolutely sure that’s what you saw?” he asked, for what must’ve been the tenth time already. If Thomas wasn’t so angry at Techno right now, he might’ve appreciated him not commenting on it and just giving him a confirming nod. The description that Techno gave matched perfectly the portal that once had brought him into this timeline in the first place- but it didn’t make any sense. Last time they saw Karl, he was on their side. Why would he take Tommy and Theseus and leave Thomas behind without saying a word? Or was it possible that there was a new dimension-traveler who decided to kidnap them and-

“Sit down for a moment,” Phil said, appearing in front of Thomas and cutting his pacing short. “Try to take a deep breath and calm down-”

“You don’t get to tell me to just calm down ,” Thomas snarled, dashing out of Phil’s way. His blood was boiling, his words dissolving into animalistic hiss. “Theseus and Tommy could be in danger; my flock is in danger.”

“You worrying isn’t going to bring either them or Wilbur back,” Techno cut in, detaching himself from a wall, his arms crossed. “But if we gave it a proper thought, we could come up with something together.”

Thomas faltered, his wings drooping. It did sound reasonable, but not loud enough to drown out the voice in his head that insisted that it was all his fault. And it was right – Thomas was supposed to protect his flock, and the fact that his soul felt so empty, that there were two people that his instinct was crying out desperately for – he had no-one but himself to blame for it.

Phil peered into his lost expression. “Don’t you think you’re taking too much upon yourself?” he asked in a soft voice.

Suddenly, it was Phil and Techno against him alone, backed away into a corner. Lucid was in the room, too, looking at him with a painted sad expression. When their eyes met, Lucid took a step forward, but Thomas stumbled away, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood.

“Don’t pretend like either of you gives a fuck about Tommy,” he bared his teeth at Techno and Phil.

Techno frowned. “What do you mean? We do care about Tommy.”

Thomas only looked at them in disbelief. “You only started to pretend that you do, after you met us and was forced to come face-to-face with the consequences of your own ignorance. Someone’s conscience finally started speaking up, huh?”  

If the paleness and twist of Phil’s expression was anything to go by, Thomas got it close. Even Techno hadn’t found the courage to look him in the eye and instead locked his gaze onto a random point behind the avian’s back.

Thomas smiled, though there was nothing but sourness in his triumph, and his eyes were burning traitorously. “You’ve abandoned Tommy before, and no matter how charitable you feel now, in the end, you’ll always do it again- but not me. I’ll do anything to return him and Theseus”

With that, he whirled around and ran upstairs. It looked stupidly childish, Thomas knew – but he couldn’t care less as each step became harder and harder of a struggle, and black started creeping up at the edges of his vision. He latched onto the railings, doubling over and wheezing, and couldn’t take a proper breath, and there was too little air and too many walls-

By some miracle, Thomas made it to the nearest window and threw it open. The air rushed in, relishing some of his chest pains – but it wasn’t nearly enough to let him take a proper, full-body inhale. Thomas climbed out of the window and pulled himself on the roof.

As soon as he got there, he dropped to his elbows and struggled to catch a breath, just simply inhaling and exhaling for a few minutes before it got registered by his instincts that he wasn’t there alone. Thomas glanced upwards and froze.

“Hello, Thomas,” Dream said, couching in front of him with a smile that haunted him at days and nights alike. “A little bird has told me that you might be in the need of my help.”

Chapter Text

Theseus knew that there were exactly six steps leading up to the front porch of Tubbo's house, the door had a grand total of four hundred fifty-six tiny cracks along the strong spruce planks and the handle was made from metal sprinkled with rust and ice. Theseus would pick at it with his nails of one hand, sometimes snapping them in the process, while the other curled and uncurled tightly.

Do it! he snarled at himself wordlessly. but when it came down to knocking, Theseus would freeze with a fist frozen inches away from the door. He stood with his fur bristled and sparkling with crystals of ice, his limbs numb from the cold, until a light flickered in one of the boarded windows and sensitive ears would pick up the creek of a ladder and clatter of hooves on wood.After all the wars, two exiles, and more near death experiences than he cared to remember, a single knock became that obstacle that he had never braced himself to surmount. Releasing a white cloud from quivering blue lips, he always turned around and ran, cape fluttering as blizzarding snow whispered: a coward...

Traveling in space and time hasn't changed him at all. Theseus was still a coward, afraid to start speaking first. He avoided looking at Tubbo, too, fixing his eyes on the floor as he climbed into an armchair, legs crossed underneath him and his tail blanketing his ankles. There was something wrong in how he could see the inside of the house, like it wasn't supposed to exist beyond the ice-crusted porch and creaky roof. Theseus briefly looked over the mess of chests crowding the walls, coal dust threatening to spill out of the furnaces and lazuli smeared all over the floor in odd symbols, and wondered when was the last time that Tubbo had cleaned the room.

One was for certain: Tubbo wasn't sleeping right, if he slept at all. Overgrown bangs covered half of his face, but even they couldn't hide the exhaustion printed into his features. When he placed them - one in an armchair, two on a coach - Theseus withdrew an urge to tell Tubbo that he looked like the one in need of rest. Most likely he would raise his mug, steaming and reeking of caffeine, and bark some snarky comment. That, or he'd bang Theseus' head with the closest heavy object, maybe even with that book that got them into this mess in the first place.

Tubbo must have spent a long time trying to figure out how to use it; the more understandable was his despair when he realized that it hadn't worked right. It wasn't Theseus who he had hoped to retrieve. He couldn't blame Tubbo for that. Stupid heart, however, had its own ideas, and when Tubbo pushed him away it sank deeper than a slash of an axe. Tubbo rushed to pick up the book, swiped away the snow, and started mumbling something, eyelids closed shut.

"Tubbo?" Theseus had called, taking a cautious step forward. "I don't know if it's a good idea to-"

Theseus nearly jumped when Tubbo's head snapped to him, his eyes glowing monotone, bright green.

Wilbur grabbed Tommy and wobbled away with him as if Tubbo was about to explode at any moment, but Theseus held on tight, keeping them in place while the glow turned almost blinding. And then a portal opened again, twice as small as the previous one, but swirling so furiously it sent the book flying out of Tubbo's hands. Before either of them could react, the portal spat something black and screaming into his face and swirled closed with a loud pop.

Black and screaming turned to be a crow. A very loud, vicious, panicking craw. It clawed most of Theseus' forehead into a game of tic-tac-toe before he managed to grab it by the back and yank away. Tubbo by then had picked up the book and was about to start chanting again. Theseus grabbed his wrist firmly, "Stop."

"Let go of me!" Tubbo had never sounded as scary and broken at the same time. "I have to try again, I have to bring him back-"

Tubbo was strong, but Theseus, too, was no longer an ever-hungry husk that haunted the plains of Logstedshire. He pointed at the crow. It shook out its feathers, looking not less confused, despite the lack of a face to express it, than Wilbur or Tommy. "No more experiments until we know exactly how the book works, or else you might end up bringing an entire zoo." Or something much more dangerous than a few dizzy animals, but Theseus left that part unsaid.

It took some time for his words to sink in. Tubbo – his Tubbo, and yet not – clenched and unclenched his jaw, and for a moment Theseus expected a hoof kicked straight into his face. Tubbo, however, glared at him strangely; the crazed light in his eyes dimmed. When Tubbo tugged his hand in the grip, Theseus let him go. 

“Come on. Let’s get inside,” Tubbo said, nodding at his house, which brought them to the present, sitting around a messy living room with expressions in different levels of confusion and awkwardness. Only the crow seemed to be having somewhat of a pleasant time, splattered flat on Tommy’s knee, a finger stroking his head and back. The boy insisted on bringing the bird with him, and Theseus had much more pressing matters than to argue against it – cowardly clinging to silence, for one, or pretending to be part of the interior. Even though Tubbo was present physically, his mind seemed to be floating somewhere else, so Wilbur took the initiative into his own hands.

“Is anybody going to explain what the fuck had just happened?” he asked, eyes hardened and brows knitted together.

“Wilbur,” Tommy slapped his brother on the shoulder accusingly. “Can’t you see that they’re having a moment?”

Theseus wondered when exactly did Tommy become the most emotionally intellectual person in their group. He shifted in his seat, sighing with the weight of three universes behind each breath. “For once I agree with the lamp pole,” he said, “we need to clear up a few things.”

Wilbur stood up an inch on the couch, “What did you just call me-” Tommy wordlessly shushed and tugged him back, the crow cawing sleepily.

“I speculated that the multiverse must exist, but this-” Tubbo raised the book that Theseus was quickly turning to despise, “I was hoping that it’s going to bring Tommy from the dead, not teleport his doppelgangers from other universes.” Tubbo lifted his chin. 

“ I am Tommy,” the boy declared from the couch. “The younger and the better version of, well, me.”

“Well, this calls for a proper introduction,” Theseus said, standing up. “Wilbur and Tommy, this is Tubbo, my-” three pairs of eyes locked on him, and Theseus, with a hard swallow, continued, “This is Tubbo, a ram hybrid,” he repeated, “And Tubbo, those are Tommy and Wilbur. From before the SMP era.”

“That… Explains a few things,” Tubbo said, momentraily glimpsing at Wilbur, and then looked at Theseus as if he saw him for the first time: the twitching ears and the flicking tail, tufts of soft fur around his face, eyes with pupils too large to be entirely human. “A raccoon, huh?” 

“I go by Theseus to avoid confusion,” he said, for some reason, the corner of his mouth twitching. “And the good news are, your chicken-”

“Albatross,” Tommy chimed in.

“-chicken,” Theseus insisted, “is okay too, as much as somebody under the name of Thomas can be.” 

“So you know where he is?” Tubbo sprang upright, and Theseus hated that he had to crush the hope that flamed in his eyes. 

“Yes and no,” he winced. “We all had been together, four of us: me, Tommy, Thomas and Lucid – don’t ask about that guy, it’s a whole new loop of confusion – hanging around, having a great time all in all, when the portal had swallowed us in and well…” he gestured around wildly, “the rest you already know.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Tubbo pinched the bridge of his nose, ears flicking. “But how did the four of you get together in the first place?”

Theseus’ tail froze where it had been sweeping the floor. Screw hybrid traits and their traitorous tendency to betray his emotions. At least he wasn’t alone in that regard; the longer he stayed silent, the more restless Tubbo’s ears flicked, floor creaking under the shifting weight of his hoofs. A raccoon and a ram, two animals that have too little history of interaction for any behavior to be ingrained in instincts, still could sense uneasiness radiating from one another. Theseus forced the fur at the back of his neck down and tried to switch his face into a more neutral expression. 

“That,” he said, “is something that I’d rather talk to you about in private.”

“Don’t trust us, trash panda?” Wilbur cut in, and Theseus just knew, from the way that he pulled Tommy just a little bit closer, where this was going. 

“Stop that,” he said, turning in a way that kept both Wilbur and Tubbo in his line of vision.

“Stop what?” Wilbur narrowed his eyes. 

“ You and us ,” Theseus made air quotes with his fingers, “grouping yourself and Tommy together- setting him up against me.” Judging by Wilbur’s expression, Theseus had caught him red-handed. “I am fed up with people manipulating my family, so you can fuck right off and find somebody else to feed your bullshit.”

Theseus’ tail had been thrashing at this point, his lips drawing a little short of a snarl. He desperately wanted to pluck Tommy away from Wilbur, tuck him closer and shield from those hard brown eyes, flickering with fire and explosions. Dangerous , his instincts rumbled, gunpowder and soot clogging his senses and making him want to scratch ash out of his fur. No matter the universe, Wilbur would still be Wilbur. The same person who Theseus had given up everything he loved for and who spit it right back into his face. If it wasn’t for Wilbur, Tubbo would never be the president. If it wasn’t for Wilbur, maybe his Tubbo would still be alive. 

“Am I your family, then?” Tommy asked. Theseus faltered as his instincts flared, a cacophony of noise and images and pack pack pack . Theseus opened his mouth to growl,  ‘the fuck are you on about? ’, but a streak of chitters fell out of his lips instead.  

The surprised expression on Tommy’s face grew into a smug smile. “Aw, so Thomas isn’t the only one–”

Theseus’s ears felt like they were on fire. “Tubbo, outside,” he barked and stormed out of the house. The roof rattled with the force of him slamming the door, and a bathtub worth of white powder dropped straight onto his head. Fur or not, the sudden transition from warm to freezing striked through his skin like a lightning. Spitting curses and snow alike, he angrily shook the worst of it out of his hair and tail, only vaguely hearing when a second person had joined him on the porch. 

“I don’t know how to feel about you adopting yourself,” Tubbo said with a short sort of sputtering laughter. 

“Oi, fuck off,” Theseus snarled half-heartedly. “Thomas started it- I didn’t adopt anyone. It’s just the instincts fucking- messing with my head or some shit. Stupid raccoon brain,” he added, knocking on his temple as if it could somehow silence the instincts that yowled, danger pack kit- 

“It seems to me that you just care.” Tubbo came up closer, propping his elbows on the wood railings and gazing into the distance. “Which isn’t a bad thing, you know?”

Theseus wanted to speak up, another half-hearted insult forming, but saw Tubbo fiddling with a necklace on his neck. Carefully, he reached out, and Tubbo let him open it with one sharp claw slitted under the lid. A small picture was inside: Tubbo and Ranboo standing next to one another, Tubbo in his telltale green sweater, Ranboo in a Hawaiian shirt – which, combined with his ridiculous height, was enough of a reason to bury him six feet under – but it wasn’t his atrocious choice of clothing what attracted Theseus’ attention the most. A piglin shoat was held between them, clinging to Ranboo’s arm and shyly hiding one eye from the camera. Pack , his instincts echoed again, though Theseus was sure that ram and enderman hybrids have their own ways to call a family. 

“ Oh ,” he breathed out, softer than any other sound that he had ever made. “You have a kid?”

“Michael,” Tubbo said, smiling weakly and tracing a thumb over the necklace’s frame. “Ranboo’s with him now. I was- I guess wasn’t in the beast headspace for the past few weeks,” he looked around Snowchester, at the boarded windows of his house and snow blanketing the paths, stems of potato plants swaying weakly in the cold wind. “Certainly not in the state to care for a child.”

“You can say that again,” Theseus huffed. “When was the last time you looked in the mirror? Just looking at you makes me want to brush my hair out of my face.”

Tubbo glared at him from down up. Theseus’ fur had bristled against the cold; snow, sticking to the end of his fur, didn't melt right away and made him look like a sugar powdered donut. “Speak for yourself, Bigfoot,” he said, closing the necklace and shoving it underneath his coat. 

“It’s not hair, it’s fur ,” Theseus gawked. “There is a difference!”

“Aren’t you supposed to shed it every once in a while, like raccoons?”

“Fuck if I knew.” Theseus released a cloud of steam from his lips, back propped against the railings, crossing his arms on his chest. “I learned that I am a hybrid, what, around a year ago? Maybe one and a half?” Theseus once tried to count the weeks he had spent in the Inbetween, but only succeeded in giving himself a headache. “The whole universe traveling thing really messes with one’s perception of time.”

“Sucks for you, big man.”

It was all light bickering with no real heat behind it, so familiar to Theseus that it grated his ribs from the inside like a bow would grate the strings of an old violin. He is speaking to Tubbo, after all this time. Warmth burned the back of his eyes, not the comforting type but the ‘I am one wrong word away from a breakdown’ sort of warmth. Theseus looked away, claws digging so deep into his palms that they broke skin and drew blood. 

He’s not my Tubbo , he reminded himself. He had no rights to use Thomas’ friendships to ease his own suffering and guilt. Theseus turned away and started descending down the stairs. Tubbo followed soon after, but both could feel it in the air, how frost nibbled harsher at their skin, crawling between muscle and bone. They were both brought back from the clouds into forlorn reality: Tubbo’s best friend was still missing. Theseus’ best friend had been murdered, slaughtered like a cattle on these very steps that he currently was walking on. 

A shudder ran through him, and he hurriedly stepped into knee-deep snow, striding forward despite it packing and sticking and slowing his every step. Theseus could be running, but the ghosts of his world would haunt him for the rest of his life anyway.

“Tommy’s just- you’ve seen him,” Theseus gestured weakly at the door. “He’s like- like a blank album. And I’m an old notebook, torn and tossed and missing half of the pages, and not to be rude but Thomas– your Tommy– it’s hard to tell which one of us is more fucked in the head.” 

We don’t want the same for Tommy , Theseus was about to say, but words caught in his throat. They sounded too much like Thomas, and Theseus wasn’t him, not nearly as kind and honest and caring. “I don’t want him to make the same mistakes,” he added, and that was closer to the truth.

“Most people wish for a chance to fix something in their past.” They stepped up to the stone bridge, sun moving towards the horizon and turning the ice-casted shores into a glistering mirror. It reflected the scars on Tubbo’s face, and for a moment Theseus could see it all: fireworks exploding, the horrifying burns and Tubbo whimpering while Theseus– Thomas–  Tommy held his hand and choked out reassurances that he didn’t truly believe in. “Seems that you have gotten an actual chance.”

Theseus blinked, and there were no bandages soaked in potions, just Tubbo’s face, marred by scars, and an eye that couldn’t open all the way up. He fisted his hands at his sides and clenched his jaw.

“I don’t know everything that happened between you and Thomas,” Theseus said, with confidence and stubbornness that he didn’t know the source of, “but I know for a fact that he isn't– whatever you might think, he could never be truly upset with you.”

“He has every right to be,” Tubbo shook his head, eyes glassing. “I wanted to leave it all behind. Forget that L’manburg ever existed and start a new life without the past holding me back. But Tommy- the exile and everything that happened afterwards- he needed closure. And instead of earning his trust back so he would talk to me about it, I let him go into the prison. I let him die .”

Even as he said the last word, his voice was stripped of every emotion in a way that just screamed Tubbo . Theseus grabbed his shoulders and span him around. For a moment he wanted to either shake Tubbo to half-consciousness or hug him and never let go, but settled on just squeezing lightly instead in a way that he hoped was grounding. 

“He didn’t die,” Theseus insisted. “Karl saved him, like he did with me. He’s got some interdimensional travel shit going on, and if there is anybody who can bring Thomas to you – and send us back – it would be him.”

A dozen of emotions flashed behind Tubbo’s eyes in a second. Theseus had the time to decipher only two: the initial surprise, and lastly, reluctant, shy hope. “I haven’t seen Karl for a long time,” Tubbo drawled, “but maybe other citizens of Snowchester had heard from him recently.”

“That’s where we’ll start, then,” Theseus said, letting Tubbo go, patting him on the shoulder with a forcely wide smile on his lips. “Lead the way, bee boy.”

They left the bridge and took the stairs up the hill. If Theseus didn’t think about how the same buildings were in ruins in his world, burned down to carcasses by Dream, it was a pretty peaceful sight. Part of him missed the tundra climate; he wanted to dive into the drift and roll in the snow until his lips turned purple, but it wasn’t very long before a building came into view – all smooth stone and right angles – and Tubbo headed straight towards it.

“How many of you lives in Snowchester?” Theseus asked as Tubbo was fiddling with a panel near the door, entering a- codeword? Why would he need a password to enter here?

“Well, it’s me and Michael normally, sometimes Puffy. Eret and Foolish are in and about…” The door slid into the wall on two sides, letting them through into a dimly lit room. “But we’re gonna talk to Jack first. He’s been helping me with something here in the lab.”

“Jack?” Theseus echoed, his guts churning and claws flexing. “As in Jack Manifold?”

Lanterns flickered to life, obedient to the press of Tubbo’s hand on a button. Theseus' heart dropped to his feet with each inch of the lab bared to blinding white lights: tables littered with pieces of metal, a giant metal capsule that resembled a rocket, and hunching underneath it, the person who killed Theseus’ family.

Jack pushed a pair of protective glasses up to his forehead despite them being already transparent. “Tommy?!” he exclaimed, with shock and a pitch of something else, but Theseus was already backing away. He couldn’t be here. He needed to get as far from here as possible.

“Jack, meet Theseus, he’s Tommy’s-” Tubbo turned around, his eyes widening. “Theseus? What’s going on?”

Theseus couldn’t respond if he wanted to. His chest spasmed on each breath, and with every small portion of air that he chased out of his lungs, his vision turned blurrier, his other senses sharpening tenfold. It reeked in here, of metal and alcohol and death – bad smells. Pressing one step after another, he retreated backwards until his tail brushed something solid.

A growl grew in Theseus’ throat, his ears pinned to his head. Cornered predator danger- screaming, screeching, rattling call of primal instinct had Theseus flexing his fingers and baring his teeth with a warning yowl. There were two shapes in the room, jibberish of voices; Theseus’ head snapped between them, trying to figure out which one posed the bigger threat. 

One of the shapes took a step forward. Theseus bellowed, leaping to the side and blindly rammed his shoulder into something. The darkness came instantly. Theseus twisted his head around, growling. He can’t see , and if he can’t see he can’t know where the attack is coming from-

Coldness touched Theseus’ leg; he dashed away and slammed into something, crashing them together to the floor. In a blink he was on his stomach, yowling as his tail erupted with pain. Theseus writhed and screeched and slashed his claws at the shadow pinning him, but it just wouldn’t let go . 

The fur on his face bristled, feeling the air shift. His vision suddenly sharpened on a movement over him, and Theseus lunged. Someone screamed. The smell of copper sent his brain into a frenzy. Theseus wrenched his tail out of the trap and sprang to his feet just as light and fresh air flooded through a wide opening to his side. Escape . 

Theseus flew through the opening, landed on front paws and leapt again. In a blink he was out of the open and in a forest, trees closing up overheard. There were voices behind him, some sounding vaguely familiar, but he flicked his ear and kept going anyway, spurred on by the constant chant of run run run , until there were no other sounds but his own hissing breaths and crunch of snow underneath his paws. Still, Theseus kept going. 

He only slowed down when a familiar scent striked his senses. Theseus straightened on two paws, ears springing straight and twisting around. No sounds, and the scent was at least a few days old. The less hazed part of his brain recognized that there was something wrong about it, but it was quickly wrestled by the streak of safe pack den . Something ached deep within him, and he let out a yearning, screeching howl. 

Before Theseus knew it, he was running home. 

***

Techno was a light sleeper, and when the dogs started barking in the middle of the night, he was awake in a matter of seconds. He didn't hurry to get out of bed, however. It happened every once in a while that the dogs were startled by some small animal scurrying by or the howl of a wild wolf in the far distance, and calmed down on their own. 

The dogs didn't stop the noise, not after a minute and not after three. If anything they bellowed louder with each second, more and more voices joining in, and soon it sounded like the whole pack was awake and keen on disrupting Techno's rest. 

"Did you guys conspire together or something?" he grumbled. 

Chat had been riled up by something since the afternoon, and only calmed down towards the evening. It happened at random times and random periods for reasons that the voices themselves didn't know, so Techno wasn't too worried about it. Now the hum in the back of his mind started growing anew, louder than they have been ever since he and Phil received the news about the- the prison. Something akin to cautiousness grew in Techno's stomach. 

He got out of bed and strapped his chestplate on, enchantments shining where he had brushed his fingers against them. Grabbing his axe and swiping some potions off a dusty shelf took less than a minute, but something crashed outside, the sound grinding against Techno's ears; the barking spiked in volume only to start growing distant. Techno stepped out to the front porch just as the door of the opposite house creaked open. Phil stood in the doorway in his sleeping robes, a sword in his hand ready to be unsheathed. 

"Techno?" he called softly. Seeing Phil's pale face and deep shadows underneath his eyes, Techno wondered if the man had slept at all. 

"The dogs had broken the fence," he said. "I'll see what had gotten them so riled up and  then lead them back to the kennels." 

Phil nodded. He didn't return back to the house, but didn't follow Techno into the forest either. He stood on the lit porch, a frozen statue, only an occasional gust of wind ruffling his feathers. Ever since Tommy dea- disappearance , there hadn't been much activity around the SMP, and certainly none that had anything to do with the Arctic, but they could never completely disregard the possibility of another Butcher army coming for Techno's head. Secretly, he was warmed up by thinking that Phil was waiting for his return. Technosoft , Chat perked up immediately, and he didn't bother arguing with them. 

The fresh tracks on the snow made it easy to follow the pack. They hadn't gotten too deep into the forest, and soon Techno heard the growls and rattle of a skeleton collapsing. It was a relief that he didn't have to fight in the dark terribly ungeared, but neither was it worth splitting his sleep and fixing the fence for. 

The skeleton wasn't it all, or otherwise the pack would already be on their way back to the house. A few pups ran up to Techno for a greeting, wagging their tails, but the majority stayed to circle something curled up against an oak tree, an ever-moving river of white bodies circling it, their barks much softer than before. If Techno hadn't known for a fact that they were trained to do that only for his family, he'd think that the dogs are protecting something. 

It’s a raccoon , Techno assumed at first, but skeletons don’t attack animals unprovoked, and the figure was too big to be a simple rodent. He whistled a command, and the dogs started backing away, tongues flicked out and tails thumping against frosted ground. Techno shoved the most restless of the animals out of the way, and when the source of the disturbance was finally revealed, the axe fell from his hands. 

There, whimpering and writhing around an arrow in his shoulder, was a boy with Techno's supposedly dead brother's face.