Archive of Our Own

Despite Tommy’s stalwart determination to do otherwise, he must have fallen asleep at some point– because when he pried his eyes open next, he was staring up at a ceiling washed in the cold light of morning.

Something was wrong. An undeniable truth, he could feel it in the stillness in the air and the horrible sinking of his gut.

Wrong, wrong, wrong, his hindbrain insisted as Tommy sat up and noticed the empty space beside him.

Tommy forced himself to breathe in deeply through his nose as he tried to wrangle some sense of rationality into place.

Just because Casey Jr had gotten up before him, that didn’t automatically mean something was wrong. He was just being paranoid.

He was probably just in the bathroom, taking a shower or something.

Tommy placed a palm over the relentless pounding of his heart.

Everything was fine, fine, fine, fine–

His ears twitched at the quiet creaking of floorboards in the hallway.

Don’t panic, everything’s fine, Tommy reminded the hollow pit in his stomach.

The sound of a controlled gait drew closer to the living room, each step too solid to be made by anything but boots.

Which was- weird, because he was pretty sure none of them wore shoes indoors- but this was Cassandra’s apartment, so it had to be either her or Casey. It was nothing to worry about and everything was fine and Tommy was fine and-

And Tommy saw the boots before anything else. Black and gleaming with almost purple undertones. It was familiar in a way that sent a shock of fur-raising dread creeping up his spine.

Because there shouldn’t be any way for someone to get netherite in this world.

Tommy’s breath caught in his throat as the netherite boot was followed by the lime green hoodie peeking out from a netherite chestplate and the smiling porcelain mask that haunted his nightmares.

“Hey, Tommy. Did you miss me?” Dream asked in that horrible, condescending coo he used to always use.

Like Tommy was a naïve little kid and not the eighteen year old he’d gleefully beaten the childhood out of at the early age of sixteen.

Tommy couldn’t- he- no. No, this wasn’t real. It was just a nightmare. All he had to do was wake up and Casey would be beside him and Cassandra would be sitting at the dining table with her comically large binder and Dream would be gone.

He wasn’t sure at what point he’d closed his eyes, eyelids screwed tight and hands clamped over his ears- but it was an action he regretted a thousand times over when all of a sudden there was a hand on his shoulder.

Solid and burning and so undeniably real.

Tommy reeled back, tumbling right over the edge of the futon and crashing to the floor with a strangled gasp.

He stared up at the smiling mask looming over him, the icy chill of horror settling into his bones and draining the blood from his face.

"No," Tommy just barely managed to whisper.

Dream stood over Tommy, his head tilted ever so slightly to the side. “What’s wrong? Don’t tell me you thought I wouldn’t find you,” he scoffed, the distinct edge of laughter curling his tone. As though the very notion was absurd.

There was a moment where Tommy couldn't move. Where the sense of terror he'd thought he was finally free from left his every muscle frozen stiff and useless.

And then he remembered where he was- who’s apartment they were in.

Tommy inhaled sharply, pushing himself to his feet and meeting Dream head on with a fierce glare. “You– you– what did you do to Casey and Cassandra, where the fuck are they?” he balled his hands into tight fists and edged a subtle step backwards.

Dream put a hand on his hip and matched Tommy’s backstep with a purposeful step closer. “Oh, don’t be like that, Tommy. It’s been months! How have you been? What have you been up to? C’mon, we’re friends, aren’t we?” He crooned condescendingly.

The effect was instant, knocking the breath from Tommy’s lungs with just a few words and triggering a swooping nausea to bubble up.

Tommy stumbled back, back, back. “Shut up– shut the fuck up. We–” a pathetic noise keened from his throat as he hit the wall much sooner than he expected, “–we’re not– you’re not my fucking friend! You hurt me, you– you get all up in my head and you– you say things and it fucks me up and I– I–” he raked his fingers over the fur atop his head, gulping uneven gasps of air.

And Dream, he– he laughed. Curled his arms around his stomach, wheezed so hard he was just about coughing.

Tommy’s heart was beating against his ribcage, only one thought going through his mind. I can’t go through this again.

Dream recovered from his little laughing fit with a slight clearing of his throat and a sigh tinged with amusement. He rolled his shoulders back into his full height, but made no move to cross the distance between them just yet (it did nothing to lessen Tommy’s fear).

“Look, I've let you–" Dream waved his hand around in a vague gesture, "– run amuck in this random server up until now– but it's time to go back home, Tommy. C'mon, don't you miss the beach? The– remember, you would scrounge around trying to find enough materials to make yourself armor and weapons, then I'd come over and we'd blow it up in a hole. Then maybe I'd pity you if you looked pathetic enough and I'd let you have some of my table scraps. Don't you remember that, Tommy? Wasn't it fun?" he reminisced.

The worst part, Tommy decided in his lightheaded daze-- was that Dream sounded so genuinely fond.

He could hear the man's smile as he spoke, but it wasn't one of deranged glee, wide like the grin of his mask. It was something soft, something that could be mistaken for fucking gentle if you didn't understand the words coming out of his mouth.

And that? That made Tommy want to puke.

Instead of giving in to the bile rising in the back of his throat though, he pressed himself more firmly against the wall (his right hand landed on the window sill, gripping tight), and glared as fiercely as he could muster. "That wasn’t– none of that was fun, Dream, you fucking psychopath. Are you even hearing yourself right now? You’re talking about– you are talking about the– the– the literal the worst period of my life and calling it fun,” he spat with fur bristled and ears pinned flat.

Dream didn’t care. Of course he didn’t care– he was Dream.

The man snickered in the face of his anger. “I mean… It was fun. You’re fun, Tommy.” Dream began stalking slowly forwards, “You’re like my little toy that I can break however many times I want, because every time you die, I can just bring you back! Do you know what that means, Tommy?” He was less than a block away now.

Tommy could feel his meager confidence steadily waning. “Stay– stay back.” He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t do this, he couldn’t–

Dream raised his right arm out to the side and an enchanted netherite axe materialized in his grip.

Tommy felt his heart stop. His eyes locked on the sharpened edge, shining with enchantment and… and sunlight. Harsh, cold, and yet a beacon of hope in the bleak nightmare he found himself trapped in.

With no time to think things through, Tommy pulled his trusty metal tray from his inventory and lobbed it full force straight at Dream’s stupid masked face to buy himself a few more seconds. It was just enough to unlock the window, wrenching it open and swinging himself feet-first out of the opening all in the span of three seconds.

Of course, it was only after he was already dangling two stories above the unforgiving pavement below that he considered that maybe this was a bad idea.

A thought that was quickly overridden when he remembered that being caught by Dream would be even less forgiving and a six block fall really wasn’t that bad in the grand scheme of things.

With that last reservation settled, Tommy released his grip, and let himself plummet.

He hit the ground into a clumsy roll that left his limbs aching with the fresh sting of pain.

Tommy hadn’t realized how much better he’d gotten about such things until even that negligible pain was enough to send him choking on panic like it was a physical barrier in his throat.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he gasped out roughly as he forced himself to his feet, bracing himself with a hand against the rough brick wall.

He didn’t have time to fall apart. Not right now. Not yet.

Sewers. All he had to do was get to the sewers.

One foot in front of the other. Left, right, left right, left, right.

Dream was right behind him. He was laughing, and he was crooning Tommy’s name, and he was going to catch up.

Fuck.

Tommy had tried so goddamn hard to get away from that hellhole. Was this really it for him? End of the line?

Had all his progress truly been for naught?

Tommy shook his head as he took a sharp turn around a corner. He didn’t get this far just for some stupid defeatist attitude to get the better of him.

The turtles would help him, all Tommy had to do was hold out until then.

Hope sparked in his chest. Tiny and flickering, but just as stubborn as he was.

It was with that little ember of hope that Tommy threw himself directly into oncoming traffic.

He darted through the streets, ignoring the blaring honks as he dodged around car after car.

With any luck, it would be enough to create that crucial bit of distance between him and Dream.

Tommy skidded into a less busy street and lunged for the first manhole cover he saw, grunting with effort as he dragged it just open enough for him to slip through the gap.

He thought his heart might pound right out of his chest when he had to stop for an entire second just to haul the cover back into place.

If he was really really lucky, maybe Dream wouldn’t realize that he’d even entered the sewers.

That optimistic line of thinking didn’t stop him from descending the ladder three rungs at a time and then jumping the rest of the way down once he deemed the distance relatively safe.

He took off running through the dimly lit sewers the instant his feet hit solid ground again.

He couldn’t help but feel it was more cramped than usual. Like the walls were closing in on him, shadows jumping and flickering in a way that distinctly reminded Tommy of the narrow passages in Pogtopia. 

Tommy slowed down to a brisk walk, scrubbing his eyes and blinking hard. The sourceless torchlight remained.

He exhaled through his teeth. “Fuck, this shit is really wiggin’ me out,” he muttered to no one under his breath.

On the plus side, at least it seemed he really did lose Dream with his little sewer trick.

For now, anyway.

Tommy wrapped his arms around himself, shivering despite the thick coat of fur blocking out any real cold.

The tunnel he'd been following split two ways.

Tommy looked to his right and froze.

Buttons.

So, so many buttons. They covered every craggy, twisted wall. Dotted the floors, and even hid half submerged in the murky sewer waters.

Wilbur could have rigged any number of them to blow.

No, but that couldn't– Wilbur wasn't here… was he?

A weird gurgling noise from his left pulled Tommy’s attention away from the countless buttons.

He didn’t see it at first, squinting even with his night vision in search of the noise. 

And then he found it– found him.

The black and white scales seemed to melt out from the shadows encompassing the left tunnel, forming a towering figure whose every step was accompanied by a slow, slithering stomp.

Tommy’s blood turned to ice in his veins. “No. No, no, no, no, this isn’t– this isn’t real. You’re not here, you’re not here,” he mumbled, voice wavering as he fisted a hand in his shirt– clenching right over his still thundering heart– and tried to breathe evenly–

Only to be assaulted by the strong stench of iron, burning the inside of his nose and coating his tongue.

Tommy almost vomited right then and there, doubling over with a heaving gag. Saliva spattered on the ground at his feet– except it wasn’t saliva, because saliva wasn’t red and oh god, there was blood in his mouth.

He wasn’t afforded long to stew in that particular horror before another gurgle sounded much closer than the last.

Tommy looked up and promptly choked on a scream.

The lizard mutant he’d murdered in the arena of the Battle Nexus, Tegu, stood directly in front of him. Blood poured from his mangled throat, sliding down his chest and dripping to the floor into a forming puddle.

Tegu’s eyes were two lifeless marbles, glassy and without focus.

His jaw opened, but the only sound produced was that awful gurgle as even more blood spilled from his mouth.

Tommy clasped both hands over his muzzle and staggered back several steps.

Don’t throw up, don’t throw up, don’t throw up…

Tegu's reanimated corpse stumbled after him with twitching claws.

Gods, Tommy did this. Tommy tore someone's throat out with his teeth.

And now there was blood in his mouth, and on his hands, and it was seeping into his fur–

His eyes caught on another figure beyond Tegu, a wiry frame with sleek brown fur and gold eyes that glinted in the dark.

For a second, Tommy felt hope.

Hope that Lena’s impossible suggestion had been correct after all and the dog boy he fought in the Battle Nexus really had escaped on his own.

A delusion that came violently crashing down on him when the boy stepped out from the shadows and into the impossible torchlight.

Because there wasn’t a soul who could survive having their chest caved in like that.

Tommy felt bile burn in the back of his throat for the third time in the past three minutes at the sickening sight of exposed gore and the stark white broken ribs.

Nothing else existed in Tommy’s eyes as the boy walked up to him, stopping only when they were face to face.

One of his ears was torn. The dog boy’s face spoke of pain and betrayal without need of a single word.

But of course, the boy opened his mouth anyway. “Why didn’t you come back for me?” he warbled.

Tommy’s fingers spasmed around his muzzle, torn between the impulse to at least try to help the doomed boy and his need to block out as much of the suffocating smell of death as he could.

He compromised by leaving his fingers cupped loosely around his snout with a harrowed whisper. "I didn't think you'd die." His last word crumbled under the weight of his guilt.

Dog Boy shook his head. “I think you knew exactly what was going to happen to me. You were just so obsessed with your own issues that you didn’t want to think about it,” he accused– and he didn’t stop there.

Instead, the boy leaned in closer, jabbing a bloody, crooked finger at Tommy’s chest. “You could have saved me, you just chose not to. You haven’t changed, Tommy. It doesn’t matter how far you run, you’re still the same selfish asshole you’ve always been.”

Tommy wanted to deny it. Oh, he wanted to be able to refute it so bad it hurt.

But he couldn’t. Couldn’t bring himself to utter so much as a single word in his own defense.

How could he, when the evidence was staring him right in the face. When the blood was on his hands and filling his mouth.

And then, like a coward, Tommy proved him right.

He ran away.

The boy's voice followed Tommy with one last cutting remark. "Keep running, Tommy, you'll never escape who you are inside."

Tommy tore past Tegu’s unmoving body and leapt over the sewage water between him and the right side tunnel.

He stumbled briefly on landing, but recovered just as quickly to flee as far as his feet would take him.

His head spun– from both the parting words and the unending buttons littering his surroundings.

Get back to the lair, find the turtles. Everything else could come later, Tommy reminded himself, lungs burning from exertion.

It took all his willpower not to squeeze his eyes shut while he bolted through the sewers. It would've been a horrible idea, but the prospect of not having to see those damn buttons made it far too tempting an impulse.

He wasn't sure if he was imagining the intense ringing in his ears or not, but whatever the case, it really was not helping.

The buttons gradually decreased in numbers the farther he went, replaced by patches of faded graffiti.

He was getting closer.

Relief welled up so suddenly at the sight that Tommy almost thought the lump in his throat was going to evolve into a full blown sob.

He swallowed whatever sound wanted to escape and blinked away more tears before they could form.

There would be all the time for tears later, once this was all finally done and dealt with.

Tommy followed the trail of graffiti, feeling another flash of relief every time he found one with clear ties to the turtles.

When he finally stumbled into the lair, fairy lights strung up and lighting the way home, Tommy barely wasted the time to take a breath before he was already shouting out, "Leo! Raph-" his voice broke into a painful cough.

Apparently yelling at the top of his lungs after spending the entire shitty morning running for his life had some negative side effects. Go figure.

Tommy leaned heavily against the wall, head bowed as he panted for breath.

He was almost at the atrium. Just a little further now.

He repeated the thought in his head as many times as it took to get his feet moving again.

The lair was so dizzyingly normal after the shifting walls and torchlight of the sewer. It took everything Tommy had not to collapse when he finally made it to the atrium to find nothing amiss.

It all looked exactly how he left it. Not a sign of any scuffle or fight to be seen.

Tommy pressed his palms into his closed eyelids, breathing in nice and slow while he tried to get his thoughts in order.

Okay, step one… Step one, find the turtles.

Step two, warn them about Dream.

Step three, fortify the lair and put together some kind of plan to put a stop to whatever Dream was going to throw at them.

They'd have to be prepared for TNT, definitely. Maybe a couple Withers too depending on how destructive Dream was feeling.

Well, he didn’t really feel all that much better after getting his thoughts in order. Like, at all– but he was starting to feel just the smallest bit more confident that they could maybe handle whatever came next.

Alright– Tommy lowered his hands with a sharp exhale– find the turtles, deal with the rest.

He took one step forward, opened his eyes, and promptly felt every drop of blood drain from his face.

Dream had one of Leo's Jupiter Jim comics in hand, flipping through the pages with idle boredom. “‘Stand down, kangaroo aliens of planet Zargon, or I will be forced to use my space blaster on you,’” he read outloud, a note of mocking incredulousness bleeding through in his voice.

Paused on the page he was reading from, Dream shook his head lightly. “Seriously? Who’s reading this garbage?” He snapped the comic shut and Tommy’s fur stood on end as he felt Dream’s eyes move to him. “One of your new ‘friends’ I suppose?” The mocking way in which he spat the word ‘friend’ made it very clear what exactly he thought of Tommy’s so-called friendships.

Tommy felt faint.

He took several staggering steps back. “How– how did you– how the fuck did you find me? Fuck– how the fuck did you even get here?” he tried for demanding and instead fell short into breathlessly terrified.

Dream tossed the comic over his shoulder with careless disregard. “What? Like it was supposed to be hard?" he laughed. A bone chilling sound. "I know you, Tommy– I know you better than you know yourself. I have been watching you for weeks, Tommy. Weeks!”

Tommy should run. Should fucking– should scream and shout until someone came to help.

He wanted to. He really, really did– but–

Tommy swallowed dryly around the lump in his throat. His hands wouldn’t stop trembling, he could– he could feel Dream’s raised voice hit him straight in the chest, paralyzing him entirely.

Was there even any point to running? Was there ever a point?

The thought scared him, perhaps as much as Dream himself.

Tommy hid the dread and defeat sinking in his stomach behind a glare that he tried desperately to believe would be enough to prevent Dream from noticing. “Oh, fuck you, you dumb fucking bastard. I told you this before, I’ll fuckin’ tell you again.” He took a step towards Dream, projecting confidence he didn’t feel as he looked the man right in his soulless masked eyes. “You’re not gonna get away with this. You’re never going to get away with this. Y’know why?” he let his voice take on a patronizing lilt– returning the favour for all the times Dream condescended him.

Dream crossed his arms, saying nothing.

Tommy took that to mean the bastard was choosing to indulge him– not that Tommy gave a shit because he would have continued regardless of whether Dream wanted him to or not.

“Because I have friends, Dream. Real friends. Not just people I’ve fuckin’ manipulated or– or– or fucking blackmailed into helping me. Not like you. So you know what, Dream? You can go ahead and take me back. And that’s fine–” It wasn’t. It would never be anything but horrible and terrifying and he was going to die– “–because at the end of the day, Dream, I have people who care about me– and they’re gonna notice that I’m gone. They’re going to find me, and then they’ll put an end to this sick fucking game you’ve gone and turned my life into. I don’t fear you anymore, Dream. You’ll never get that over me ever, ever a-fucking-gain, you hear me?” And Tommy was lying out his ass because everything from his shortness of breath to the slight quavering of his voice said otherwise.

Dream openly scoffed at that. “You think your friends are going to save you? Tommy, you abandoned your friends. You think Tubbo’s going to help? Ranboo? News flash, Tommy, Ranboo’s dead!”

The walls were starting to warp again, darkening like blackstone and obsidian.

An invisible force was crushing Tommy’s lungs, he– fuck, it was getting so hard to just breathe–

“Oh, or did you mean your new friends? Those turtles?” Dream laughed, cold and cruel. “Tommy, you run away so often, by the time they even start to think something’s wrong, it’ll already be too late. If anything, I’m doing them a favour by bringing you back before you can get the chance to betray them too.”

Tommy wasn’t sure when Dream had gotten so close. Wasn’t sure when the shadows started creeping into his vision either.

He shook his head, movement jerky and stilted. “Shut up. Shut the fuck up, that’s not–” It wasn’t true, it wasn’t true, it wasn’t true–

Tommy suddenly became aware of the weight in the right pocket of his trousers.

Gods, he really was a bit of an idiot, wasn’t he?

With a plan beyond ‘attempt to out-bluff Dream’ sliding into place, Tommy’s body finally unfroze.

He shoved past Dream without warning, plunging a hand into his pocket as he did.

His fingers met the familiar bumpy texture of his rubber disk. He twisted the disk, hopefully activating the emergency switch Donnie installed into it.

Now it was just a matter of playing hide-and-seek from hell until the turtles showed up.

Tommy paid little attention to where he was going, more focused on creating as much distance as possible between him and Dream.

Something he found himself regretting when he ended up running straight into a blackstone room with nothing but an unassuming wooden box sitting in the corner. Just big enough for a person to squeeze into if they curled up tight.

With Dream’s footsteps drawing closer with every second and nowhere left to run, Tommy knew what he had to do.

He pulled one of the last three invisibility potions from his inventory, chugging it as quickly as humanly possible before slipping the empty bottle back into his inventory and hurrying to the box.

Tommy lifted the lid of the box– and then immediately faltered when he saw just how small it really was.

There was a singular moment of ‘ I don’t think I can do this,’ but then–

“Oh, Tommy~” Dream crooned from somewhere nearby.

–And just like that, Tommy’s reluctance was buried beneath something much more urgent and he all but threw himself into the box.

He pulled the lid down gently over his head and curled into a ball, face tucked into his knees and solid wood pressing against him on all sides.

Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm, he chanted internally as he barely dared to breathe.

He was in a ravine and he was trapped under extended pistons while Wilbur laughed. He was hiding in the little wooden box in Techno’s cabin, listening to the man engage in awkward conversation only a mere block away.

Tommy needed golden apples. He needed the absorption– what if Dream found him?

It was going to hurt. He was going to die, and die, and die, and Dream would laugh and he would call them friends and Tommy’s brain would be so fucked up he would believe it.

Golden apples.

Why didn’t he have any golden apples on him? Where– didn’t he grab some from one of Techno’s chests? Where did they go? He needed absorption.

There was a very slow scraaape of metal on stone from somewhere outside of Tommy’s hiding place.

“Oh, come on, Tommy. You’re not going to make me look for you, are you?” Dream’s voice was low. Dangerous.

Tommy would shiver if only he had the wiggle room for it.

Dream’s controlled gait made its way into the room, every purposeful step sending a pang of fear to Tommy’s heart.

A disappointed sigh hit the air.

Some dormant part of Tommy that he’d tried so hard to kill panicked at the notion of upsetting Dream.

He couldn’t disappoint Dream. He was Tommy’s only friend. The only person who cared enough to visit during the long days of exile.

Except that was all bullshit because Dream had never been Tommy’s friend and he was only ever there to watch him. To hurt him.

Tubbo was his friend. Ranboo was his friend. Dream was just the bastard worm in his ear trying to drive a wedge between them for his own sick enjoyment.

Tommy smothered that conflicted part of him beneath thoughts of his friends. Of sitting on the bench with Tubbo while Cat played from a nearby jukebox. Of Ranboo shoving a newly enchanted set of netherite armour into Tommy’s arms and pressing a totem of undying into his palm, just to be safe.

He thought of them and he did not give in to the misguided need to do damage control for Dream’s disappointment.

Dream was going to hurt him regardless of whether or not Tommy left his hiding spot or– or fucking apologized for inconveniencing his murderer.

The best thing he could do was stay quiet in his horrible little box and hope that Donnie and everyone else showed up soon.

Dream started walking again and Tommy felt his entire body tense– an almost remarkable feat given he wasn’t aware he could tense up any more than he already had.

“Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Dream spoke ominously, steps headed straight for Tommy’s hiding spot.

Shit, shit, shit–

Tommy mentally brushed over the dagger sitting in his inventory, waiting to be drawn the second he saw fit.

The footsteps stopped. Right beside Tommy’s head.

He held his breath, nails digging into his legs and eyes squeezed tightly shut.

Above him, the lid of the box creaked open.

Seconds passed in agony, and for one cruel moment, Tommy almost believed he'd gotten away with it.

A hand landed between his shoulder blades, fingers splayed and searing Tommy's skin through the layers of fabric.

“Found you,” Dream whispered.

Tommy sprung up, smacking Dream’s hand away at the same time as he summoned the dagger to his hand and plunged it forward.

The blade found a home in the man’s shoulder, and the curse he spat was like music to Tommy’s ears.

A feral grin stretched across Tommy’s face, all fang and teeth. “Yeah, get fucked, bitch!” he crowed as he scrambled past Dream.

His victory was short-lived– because Tommy got away from Dream only to slam head-first into an unexpected wall of muscle.

Tommy’s vision filled with red, white, pink– and then burly arms closed around him, trapping him in place.

No. No, it couldn’t be–

His captor’s chest rumbled as he spoke, voice deep and familiar. “Sorry, Tommy, nothin’ personal. Just repayin’ a favour.”

“Techno,” Tommy gasped breathlessly. He felt like he was falling, sinking, drowning. “Techno, no– no, let– let me go. Techno, please! Please, he’s gonna kill me again! Techno!” Panic had a painful grip on his heart as he thrashed, and thrashed and Techno just wouldn’t budge.

He wasn’t sure if it was better or worse that he couldn’t see Dream approaching with him pinned chest-to-chest with Techno.

In a last ditch effort to do something, Tommy twisted his head to the side and sank his teeth solidly into Techno’s bicep.

The sickening taste of iron coated his tongue, Techno didn’t even flinch.

“Bruhhh, are you seriously biting me right now? Bro, you’re gonna give me rabies, what is this?” Techno complained.

Tommy snarled, clenching his jaw tighter for half a second before letting go. “Oh, fuck you. You’re a right bastard, you know that, Techno?” he hissed, still struggling.

He managed to pull his head back enough to catch Techno’s raised brow, as if he seriously thought Tommy was being the unreasonable one here.

Tommy headbutted Techno hard in the chest and only succeeded in giving himself a minor headache. “See, that’s the fucking problem with you, Techno. None of this shit is ever your fault, is it? Not blowing up L’Manberg, not working with Dream, not killing Tubbo. It’s always something fucking else with you.” Always hiding behind some bullshit misconstrued notion of justice, or repaying a favour, or fucking peer pressure.

Peer pressure didn’t force anyone to execute Tommy’s best friend. He didn’t give a shit how many times Tubbo said he was over it, Tommy would be angry on his behalf.

Schlatt might have orchestrated the situation, but Techno was still the one pulling the trigger. Techno was still the one setting withers loose and he was still the one choosing to work with Dream instead of just killing the awful bastard once and for all.

Techno only snorted flippantly. “Yeah, okay, Tommy, calm down. Dream is just– we have an understandin’ here, y’know? I scratch his back, he scratches mine. I help him wrangle feral raccoons, he helps me destroy corrupt governments. It is a mutually beneficial partnership,” he explained in a way that made Tommy simultaneously want to strangle him and also throw himself into the nearest pool of lava just to get the fuck away from all of his justifications.

Tommy bared his (probably bloody) teeth at the piglin. “Oh, shut the fuck–” he was cut off by Techno suddenly manhandling him into facing the other direction, arms still pinned at his sides.

The words died in Tommy’s throat as he stared into the soulless eyes of Dream’s mask inches from his own face.

The knife was gone from his shoulder. Hell, there wasn’t even a bloodied tear left in the fabric of his sweater to imply he’d ever been injured in the first place.

Tommy was more than happy to switch his vitriol from Techno to Dream. “Fuck you,” he spat the instant he recovered from his surprise, voice thick with pure, unfiltered hatred.

If Dream thought anything of Tommy’s cursing, he didn’t show it.

“You know, I’d say it was a good attempt, but…” Dream reached towards Tommy’s face, but instead of putting his fingers in biting range, he plucked a crumpled pink flower from the folds of Tommy’s hood.

A visible pink flower, and– Tommy glanced down, stomach sinking– oh… he’d forgotten to put the hoodie in his inventory.

Dream wheezed out a laugh, “Did you even try?”

The magic from drinking a potion only extended so far, Tommy knew that. He knew that, and still he’d forgotten to take off his hoodie.

Dream sighed with too much joy audible in the simple exhale. “Oh, you're such an idiot, Tommy. See, this is part of what makes you so fun. Tubbo wouldn't make a stupid mistake like that.” He shook his head lightly.

And he was right, Tubbo wouldn't make a mistake like that, but also– “Don't– don’t you fucking talk about Tubbo,” Tommy snapped, flashing his teeth– not that Dream could see that.

Dream made a noise that gave off the distinct impression that he was rolling his eyes behind the mask. “Don’t tell me what to do, Tommy,” he chided right back.

Not one to listen to what Dream said, Tommy immediately spat, “Fuck you. Die, die, die, die,” at the man, kicking his legs and only just barely managing to land a kick on Dream’s shins.

There wasn’t as much power behind the blow as he would have liked, and all Dream had to do was step a little to the side to get out of range.

Drats.

“Look,” Dream started, “I'd love to keep doing this– bantering like old times– but I think it's about time we head back now, Tommy. Back home.” And then there was a potion in his hand, sloshing a dismal, sludgy grey within the bottle.

Tommy felt his already sinking stomach twist into tense knots. He squirmed in Techno’s arms again, trying to put as much distance between himself and the mysterious potion as possible. “No, no, what the fuck is– Techno, please– if there is any part of you that has ever fucking cared about me, let me go,” he begged.

He didn’t have very high hopes to begin with, but when Techno didn’t so much as falter, Tommy was pretty sure there was a part of him that died.

Had he truly meant so little to Techno? Sure, they’d always had their differences, but surely– surely Tommy wasn’t the only one who had considered them to be friends at one point… right?

There was a sort of numbness taking hold on Tommy’s mind and body, laying a dull blanket over the terror in his veins.

The turtles still hadn’t shown up.

Tommy wasn’t sure how he was going to get out of this one. Not by himself. Not if Technoblade was so set in his decision to help Dream.

Dream reached forward with his free hand, finding Tommy’s face and taking hold of his jaw with firm fingers. “Open wide,” he sing-songed.

Tommy made a belated attempt to pull away, but his mouth was already being pried open as the bottle was pressed against his lips.

Bitter liquid spilled into his mouth and Tommy redoubled his efforts to get the fuck away from whatever the hell potion Dream was forcing down his throat.

He was doing a pretty good job of spitting everything out, all things considered. Unfortunately, the one thing he’d failed to account for was Techno suddenly squeezing his arms tighter around Tommy’s stomach.

The unexpected pressure had Tommy gasping, and subsequently choking, on reflex.

It was exactly the opportunity Dream needed and Tommy felt a brand new wave of terror crash over him as he unintentionally swallowed some of the dubious potion crammed into his mouth.

Tommy sputtered and wheezed, but it was already too late.

He wasn’t sure what the potion was going to do to him, but based on the miserable colour alone he'd expected to to be something along the lines of weakness.

What he really didn't expect was for the world to start warping again.

Blackstone walls slowly melted to the graffiti and fairy light-covered walls Tommy was accustomed to seeing around the lair.

He also noted the bitter liquid on his tongue shifting to something almost pleasant. It became something weirdly floral tasting, with just a hint of sweetness in the aftertaste.

More of the unusual potion slipped into his mouth, and Tommy found he hardly even thought to fight it this time.

His surroundings continued to change, all the while Tommy began to relax against his better judgement.

Tommy watched as Dream morphed before his very eyes, lime green blending to a darker hue and netherite gear flickering into a more vibrant purple metal coming over the shoulders of someone much shorter.

Donnie pulled a mostly empty bottle of reddish pink liquid back from Tommy’s mouth, a grim sort of worry lining his face. “Tommy, hey pal, you back with us yet?” he sounded wary, but also tentatively optimistic.

It took a couple seconds for Tommy's brain to adjust to the change in surroundings. “... Donnie?” he looked down at the arms around his middle– green. “Raph?”

A relieved sigh tickled the fur on top of his head and the arms around him loosened by the slightest degree. “Welcome back, buddy.” Raph’s voice was gentle and oh so very relieved.

Tommy was still reeling when four metal arms sprouted from Donnie’s tech shell and pulled him from Raph’s arms by the shoulders.

Donnie’s goggles were down over his eyes in a blink. “How are you feeling? Any nausea? Lingering anxiety maybe? Do you need more of the antidote?” His additional metal limbs manhandled Tommy’s own arms and head every which way while Donnie subjected him to a surprise examination.

It was honestly really fucking overwhelming.

Tommy batted at the mechanical arms and stumbled away, trying to shake off his disoriented state of mind. “How– where’s Dream? Is he still– he better not be fucking– where are Casey and Cassandra? Are they okay? ‘Cause he was there and– and– but they weren’t, and–”

His downward spiral was interrupted by two hands coming down on his shoulders– and Tommy flinched, eyes snapping back into focus as he tensed up defensively.

Donnie withdrew his hands, something weird crossing over his expression. His eyes flitted over to the side, moving to something over Tommy’s shoulder.

Tommy turned to look– and first he saw Raph– but then, lingering by the doorway of what he now recognized as the living room were four more people.

Casey Jr, Cassandra, Leo, and a tall man who was either mutant or yokai (Tommy still wasn’t sure how to tell the difference) with short, dark pink fur and long maroon hair wearing white and teal robes.

Tommy didn't really give a shit about who the new guy was though– if no one else was worried about it, then he was probably harmless– he cared far more about the relief that flooded him at the sight of both Caseys unharmed and alive.

Casey Jr gave a little wave. “Hey, Tommy,” he greeted with a smile that didn’t quite manage to meet his eyes.

Tommy felt a little like a puppet on its last string, held up by flimsy willpower alone. Everyone was okay and Dream was gone except Tommy was starting to question whether or not the man had ever actually been present in the first place.

Had he been hallucinating again? It had never been that bad before though.

Never to the point of changing his perception so completely.

Leo crossed the room, heading first to Donnie– who handed over the half-emptied bottle of pink liquid without being asked– before turning to offer it to Tommy. “Apparently you came into contact with some rare anxiety plant or something–”

“It’s called a tartarus flower, actually,” the unfamiliar man interjected.

Leo acted like he hadn’t heard him, “–so whatever you saw or heard wasn't real. Dream isn't here, and if he was, we'd totally kick his butt, so it's a moot point anyway. You should still probably finish drinking the antidote though to make sure you're all good,” he advised, swirling the antidote temptingly.

Oh, so it was a hallucination. Cool, cool, cool.

… Was it weird that Tommy missed the ones he used to get during exile?

Sure, it always hurt to have Tubbo just out of reach, but at least those hallucinations never forced him to live through a collection of some of his worst nightmares.

“Yeah, alright,” Tommy agreed distantly, accepting the bottle and taking another swig.

Almost instantly, he felt his chest loosen and his anxiety trickle away to little more than a faint niggling in the back of his mind.

Tommy stared at the remaining liquid in quiet wonder. “Oh, wow. What's in this stuff? It's fuckin’ awesome. Like drugs. Mmmm.” He eagerly downed the rest of it, relishing in the sense of calm it brought.

The yokai/mutant/whatever man who Tommy still didn’t know cleared his throat and stepped further into the living room. “That was an antidote made specifically from the petals of that hestia lily you were carrying. Speaking of– where did you get that flower from? They’re incredibly rare– not to mention notoriously difficult to cultivate in captivity,” he remarked with an arched brow.

Tommy gnawed lightly on the tip of his pinky with a nonchalant shrug. “Broke a plant lady out of prison an’ she gave me one of ‘em as thanks,” he summarized.

Admittedly a bit of a lackluster summary– what with him completely skipping over the majority of the context– but he wasn’t too pressed with providing the details to some strange man he’d only just met.

And on that note– “Sorry, uh, who would you be again? I don’t think we’ve met. Tommyinnit, by the way, resident big man,” he introduced himself with an intentionally smarmy grin and outstretched hand.

The man eyed him somewhat dubiously, but accepted the handshake nonetheless, grip firm and brief. “Draxum. Warrior, scientist, and proficient lunch person,” he replied in turn.

“Ah, a triple threat,” Tommy quipped out of sheer habit alone.

Draxum heaved a strangely tired sigh. “Believe it or not, you are not the first individual to say as much.”

The deadpan delivery had Tommy cracking up with a burst of laughter.

Draxum’s expression turned somewhat judgmental, or maybe it was just confused. Like he didn’t really get what Tommy found so funny.

Tommy cleared his throat in an effort to tamp down on his giggles. “Sorry, no, it’s just– your delivery was– you sounded just so fed up with it,” he explained through rampant snickering, tail swishing behind him.

Unintentional comedy aside, something about Draxum’s name rang as strangely familiar.

But where had he heard that name before…?

It hit him all at once. “Wait– you're that bastard responsible for me getting mutated, aren’t you? Rat Dad told me about you, he did, you fucking dickhead, you,” Tommy growled with a theatrical shake of his raised fist.

Leo popped a hand on his hip. “He also threw me off a building,” he added helpfully.

Tommy’s head snapped to Leo with bristling fur. “He what?!” Tommy shouted, only to immediately follow it up with a much more cavalier, “Aw, no, but did you clutch it though?”

What could he say? His humor was a coping mechanism that knew no bounds.

“I mean, Raph caught me, so, like, I lived, but that doesn’t make it better,” Leo huffed, shooting Draxum a pointed glare.

Tommy nodded in general agreement. He’d be pretty pissed if someone pushed him off a roof, water bucket to catch himself with or not. “Yeah. Yeah, I hear you there, king, I'd totally fucking–” the air swooped right out of his lungs as he happened to look at Raph– actually look at Raph, not just glance passively over at him.

There was blood smeared across his bicep, bright and contrasting and still oozing sluggishly from an injury that looked suspiciously similar to a bite mark.

That numb feeling was back, Tommy didn’t register that he’d raised his hand to his muzzle until he was already pulling away to see the smallest brush of red on his fingertips (visible fingertips– had it really been that long already?).

All at once the numbness was accompanied by the deep pit of dread opening up in his stomach.

Because that was Raph’s blood staining his hands– his mouth.

He– Tommy did that. Tommy hurt Raph and he hadn’t even needed a weapon to do it. 

Raph noticed him staring and immediately started waving his hands around in a manner that was probably meant to be reassuring, but considering the blood covering his right hand– presumably from putting pressure on the wound– it really only succeeded in making Tommy feel worse.

“Woah, hey, it’s okay, buddy. Raph barely feels it, see?” Raph gave the injury a solid pat, grinning like it was nothing.

Tommy barely heard him over his own racing mind replaying the last several minutes of his hallucinations over.

Because if the person he’d bitten had actually been Raph, then who the fuck did Tommy stab? Because it sure as hell hadn’t been Dream.

He looked around frantically, but no one else was sporting any injuries.

No one present, anyway.

Tommy had the sinking feeling he knew exactly who had taken that dagger to the shoulder.

“Where’s Mikey.” He couldn't muster the energy to present it as a proper question.

Judging by the averting gazes and exceedingly hesitant expressions, he was exactly right in his assumption.

Leo, on the other hand, looked him right in the eyes. “It wasn't your fault, Tommy. None of this was your fault, okay? You couldn’t have known–”

Tommy shook his head roughly and that numbness finally bursted with a violent mess of anger in his chest. “No, no, no, shut the– shut the fuck up! You can’t just– stop acting like any of this shit is okay! Because it’s not! I bit Raph, I– I– I fucking stabbed Mikey, and I– and you–” Leo shifted his weight marginally closer and Tommy stumbled several steps back in response.

Whatever fake calm the floral antidote had given Tommy was firmly unraveled by that point. He let out a shaky exhale, “Fuck. This is why I didn't want a fucking weapon– except it didn't even matter because I fuck– I've got these stupid fucking teeth now and I’ve got– I’ve got these sharp ass claws an– an– an’ my head's not right and I can't stop fucking everything up.” He was choking on gasps, struggling to breathe through his closing throat and the snot clogging up his nose.

His eyes stung, burned, blurred– but no matter how much they tried, Tommy refused to let the tears fall from his eyes.

The room became entrenched in a heavy silence. Encompassing and consuming and ringing through Tommy's ears alongside his wildly pounding heart.

Draxum was the only one without a twisted look of pity on his face. It was only natural that he too was the only one to interrupt the unforgiving quiet. “Don’t give yourself so much credit, raccoon. I infused those boys with the DNA of the strongest warrior I’ve ever seen in all my long years of living. To assume you could ruin ‘everything’ just by having a weapon or an obviously superior to your previous human form mutant body is pure arrogance,” he commented, looking a rather bit insulted by the notion.

Tommy didn’t give a shit about this prick’s goddamn ego. Mikey’s absence and the blood coating Raph’s arm were evidence enough. Tommy couldn’t be trusted. Not as he was now. 

His tail was lashing. Anger. He always got so angry when he was upset. “Oh, you– I– I– I did not ask to get turned into a fucking raccoon, you colossal dickhead. Fuck off with that ‘superior’ bullshit, I was just fine as a– a regular old human with all my scars and normal hands and no stupid tail.” He snatched his tail in one hand, squeezing tight enough to hurt.

He was so pissed off for so many different reasons and he didn’t want to be angry, but nobody was listening to him. “Everyone– you all keep telling me that it’s fine, or– or– or that it’s not my fault, but–” a frustrated growl tore from Tommy’s throat, he let go of his tail with a sharp jerk, “–but if it’s not my fault, then who’s is it? Because for so long it’s always been my fault. My fault Dream wouldn’t leave L’Manberg alone, my fault Ghostbur’s gone, my fault that dog boy’s dead, and it’s my fault Raph and Mikey are hurt now!” he finished sharply, chest heaving with every ragged breath.

Raph looked pained for reasons unrelated to the bite in his arm. “Tommy,” he whispered, and he sounded gutted– but no other words came out.

Tommy pressed his hands over his eyes, forced his breathing to follow counts of three in and out. 

Nothing he’d said was a lie or exaggeration. Those things all happened, and they were on him.

His right ear twitched at the quiet shuffle of someone moving, and then the intentional clearing of a throat.

“Hey.” It was Cassandra, carrying the barest hint of uncertainty in her otherwise commanding tone.

It took a second for Tommy to gather his courage, but with one more slow, shaky exhale, he lowered his hands and met Cassandra’s eyes.

She held herself with startling resolve, expression intense as ever. “Take your insecurities and pulverize them to an insignificant pulp in your fists!” she instructed so passionately, shaking her clenched fists in the air and everything, that it made Tommy jump.

He blinked several times in an attempt to recover from his own startled befuddlement. “I– what?”

Cassandra was unfaltering. She went from dramatically waving her fists around to crossing her arms and shaking her head ruefully. “Mankind’s greatest enemy is often their own mind,” she imparted sagely.

Tommy felt a deep scowl overtake his face. “Yeah, that’s kind of my whole problem, lady. Can’t trust me own mind no more. Even before this whole fuckin’–” he waved his hands around irritably, “–’allucination business, I always feel like I’m constantly just one fucking panic attack away from hurting someone who doesn’t deserve it. All because my head goes all fuckin– like– like it got all rattled around. Like a maraca– except the maraca is my skull and instead of making music it just pisses me off and then I say and do shit that I don’t mean and I’m so fucking sick of it,” he spat, fingers flexing open and close repeatedly at his sides.

It was happening all over again. A never ending cycle of pain, anger, and regret that he could never quite figure out how to stop.

He didn’t even have the excuse of pollen induced psychosis a solid ninety percent of the time. No, all that was on him.

Leo had been listening quietly for a while. At some point, his hands had come together, raised with his joined index fingers pressed to his mouth. He tipped his hands forward at the same time as he started speaking, “Okay, so, we’re definitely going to address this in more detail later. But for now, what do you say we all take a break to check in with Mikey, hm? I’m sure he has been waiting very impatiently for us to go visit him in the medbay– if he hasn’t already broken out, anyway,” he tacked on that last bit with a wry grin.

Raph nodded hurriedly. “Oh yeah, great idea. Let’s all go check on Mikey now.”

Tommy was unsure of whether his enthusiasm came more out of worry over Mikey’s stab wound or Tommy’s own very public downward spiral.

It was probably mostly the stab wound thing.

Which Tommy was beginning to realize he was also very worried about.

He shifted his weight anxiously between his feet, eyeing the beckoning hallway, but not yet moving to leave. “How bad is it?” He asked quietly, unable to keep the fragile worry from his voice.

Casey Jr gave a small half shrug. “You only got him in the shoulder, and Master Splinter should have finished stitching the wound by now– so not that bad,” he replied summarily.

“Oh… that’s good. I guess.” If Tommy was being entirely honest, it didn’t actually sound good. At all.

But nobody else seemed to be freaking out about it, so Tommy was making his best effort to do the same.

Draxum put a hand to his chin and nodded. “Yes, all things considered, that was a rather fortunate outcome. Now, as much as I’d love to stick around for all of the feelings discussions I’m sure you’ll be having– I am afraid I’ll have to make my leave before I’m any more late for work. So sad,” he expressed without the least bit of regret in his voice.

Tommy, however, was more than happy to see that dickhead leave. “Yeah, good riddance, prick,” he muttered under his breath, getting an approving smirk from Leo in response.

Raph on the other hand, did happen to have manners. “Thanks for the help on such short notice, Barry. We appreciate it a lot, right, guys?” He shot Tommy, Leo, and Donnie a warning look.

Tommy’s lips pulled back in an awkward grimace as he really did not want to thank the guy apparently responsible for him getting mutated. “Thanks,” he forced out anyway.

Leo made a show of rolling his eyes. “Ugh, fine, whatever. Yes, thank you for the potion. Glad you’ve developed enough morals not to leave an eighteen year old trapped in his own waking nightmares for the next twenty-four hours,” he said with ample sarcasm.

Judging by Draxum’s entirely unsurprised expression, that was probably a very standard interaction between them.

Donnie nodded disinterestedly, actively typing something on his phone. “Mhm, yes, thank you for that.”

Again, Draxum looked like he’d expected nothing less– which was actually kind of funny.

It somehow managed to bump Tommy’s opinion of the man up. Just by a little bit, nothing too crazy. He simply couldn’t deny the comedic value it provided.

That wasn’t important though. What was important was Tommy getting to the medbay, stat.

He went off ahead, hearing the others follow shortly thereafter.

He kept up a brisk pace through the lair, its walls no longer warped by bad memories.

The sight that greeted Tommy upon entering the medbay was that of Mikey trying to ninja past Splinter only to get swiftly redirected back to the cot with little more than an impressive maneuvering of the rat’s tail.

Mikey groaned loudly, face down on the cot and yet to see his new visitors. “Come on, Pops, I gotta go check on Tommy! Why won’t you let me help?” he whined, tilting his head back.

Splinter cast a lingering glance in Tommy’s direction, giving a small nod of acknowledgment before his attention returned to Mikey. “I don’t know. Why don’t you ask your brothers, hm?”

Mikey scrambled to get upright and turn around. “What?!” he screeched, eyes landing on Tommy and instantly brightening. 

He then promptly threw himself forward with reckless regard, tackling Tommy in a hug that would have sent them both crashing to the floor if not for Leo catching them with a well placed arm.

Tommy hugged Mikey back just as tightly, flashing Leo a grateful look before looking down at the younger teen in his arms.

It didn’t take long to spot the site of the injury, stark white bandages wrapped around his left shoulder– covering the stitches Splinter must have given him.

Nauseating guilt started churning in Tommy’s stomach all over again as he stared at the wrapped shoulder.

He did that.

Tommy wrapped his arms a little tighter around Mikey’s shell, blinking hard. He bowed his head to press his cheek firmly against Mikey’s. “I’m so so sorry,” he whispered through the sudden tightness in his throat.

Mikey rubbed his cheek affectionately against Tommy’s, completely sinking into the hug. “I forgive you. Those hallucinations are no joke, huh?” He was obviously going for lighthearted, but Tommy could hear how rattled he was by the whole thing.

It only made the festering guilt worse.

He could feel his hands starting to shake.

This wasn’t okay. None of this was okay.

Just saying sorry and hugging it out for a few minutes wasn’t going to fix anything. Tommy’s head was still too fucked up. He’d lashed out before without the influence of any pollen– had swung his sword at Wilbur for no reason other than he was angry and scared– there was nothing stopping him from doing it again. Not really.

There had been so many close calls and warning signs already. Instances where he bristled and snapped when he should have been able to keep his cool.

Fuck– there had been so many times where Tommy had nightmares, and he’d wake up physically but his mind just wouldn’t. Where he’d get caught for a few seconds too long still believing he was on misshapen woolen bedding and a man who called himself a friend at the same time as he ripped every last possession from Tommy’s trembling hands was waiting for him just around the corner–

And in those moments, half awake, barely breathing, Tommy was scared and he was angry and he was dangerous.

It would only ever take one instant– one mistake– for everything to go wrong. For even more people he cared about to be hurt by his own hand.

It was awful and he hated it and he hated himself for doing it– for being like this.

But he just didn’t know how to make it stop.

Something clicked. The subtle shift of a realization in the back of his mind.

Because there was one thing it all came back to, wasn’t there?

The paranoia, the nightmares, the near-constant panic attacks– it all came back to Dream. It was him and his horrid mask and his taunting voice– always lurking, waiting for the opportunity to resurface and fuck up Tommy’s life again.

Dream had sunk his claws into Tommy from the very beginning, back before L’Manberg had even been a thing. And now Tommy was literal worlds away, but the claws were still there.

He wasn’t sure they would ever leave, not really. But he had an idea, and he was damn well going to try.

He took a breath, slow and deep as he came to terms with what he was about to ask.

Tommy gave himself one more second of soaking in Mikey’s embrace before forcing himself to pull away (he just hoped this wouldn’t be the last time they hugged).

Leo looked over at him– and then did a double take at whatever expression Tommy was making. “Uh… why are you making that face?” he asked slowly, suspiciously.

It was taking everything Tommy had not to chicken out. He didn’t want to do this. He really, really didn’t.

But he had to. He had to because if he didn’t then it would all just keep happening over and over again until the day he died and didn’t come back to life.

Tommy swallowed thickly. He hated what he was about to say. What he was about to ask them– about to ask Mikey to do.

He breathed, and it came out shaky, but his resolve was nothing short of steel. “I have to go back to the DreamSMP.”

The medbay was dead silent for all of five seconds before it erupted into discordant clamour.

Mikey shook him by the shoulders. “What?! Are you serious? Is your brain still infected with evil pollen? Why would you have to go back?” he shrilled with an edge of hysterics.

Leo gave him a solid poke to the side of the head, eyes narrowed and brows pinched with bewilderment. “Yeah, seriously, where’s this all coming from, Tom? You don’t have to go back there just because you hurt Mikey on accident while you were literally hallucinating. This isn’t your fault, it was an accident,” he reiterated, sounding the words out with excessive caution.

Accident or not, it still happened, Tommy thought but didn’t say, if only because Raph was already butting in.

“I think Mikey’s on to something with this one. Do you really wanna go back to the place you got all your hallucination nightmare fuel from? Isn’t that, like, counter-productive or somethin’?” His Raph-chasm was in full swing, deep lines of worry across his forehead.

Donnie pushed Raph sideways to take his place. “Yes, I agree, this is definitely one of your dumber not at all thought out ideas. Did you hit your head somewhere?” A mechanical arm popped out of Donnie’s tech shell and rudely flashed a penlight in Tommy’s eyes.

He recoiled back with a hiss because what the hell, rude, not because he had a concussion.

The arm retreated back into the shell in the next second and Donnie started tapping a curled finger to his chin consideringly. “Pupil dilation normal, so not a concussion. Interesting,” he ground out the word ‘interesting’ as if it were unpleasant, a sour look on his face.

Tommy shook Mikey off and stepped away from Leo’s prodding hands. He couldn’t afford to let them talk him out of it.

“Just listen. I’m sorry to ask this of you, Mikey, but I’ve got to do this, okay? ‘Cause if I don’t then I’m never gonna be able to feel safe– and if I don’t feel then all this shit is just gonna keep happening, and I– I can’t keep hurting people. I can’t,” his voice was breaking and his eyes were stinging and his throat was closing– but Tommy stubbornly persisted through it all.

He cleared his throat and the next words he spoke came out steady as can be. “I have to go back. I have to kill Dream.”

The room fell into a stunned silence the moment the word ‘kill’ left his mouth.

Leo gave him a searching look. “And you’re sure this is what you need?” It wasn’t judgmental, just a genuine question.

One that Tommy hardly had to think about before he was already nodding. “It feels like he’s in my head. But you know what? I’m in his too. I know what he’s like, what motivates him. He’s gonna come after me again, and I can’t just sit and wait for that to happen, Leo, it’s gonna fucking kill me,” he confessed, hopelessness bleeding into his voice.

Leo continued to stare at him for a few more long seconds, gaze solemn yet calculating. The moment passed and his calculation shifted into resolve. “Alright, let’s do it then.”

And that– okay, Tommy wasn’t actually expecting any of them to be okay with murder.

Evidently, Raph was also not expecting Leo to be down with murder– much less imply he wanted to help– because his eyes were practically bugging out of his head. “Wait, what? Leo–” He floundered, seemingly lost for what to say.

Splinter took the opportunity to step in. “I do not mean to downplay what you have gone through, but taking the life of another is a very serious affair. Not a decision that should be made on a whim.”

Tommy took a breath with the intent to defend his decision, but Splinter raised his hand before he could start, quelling him with a single look.

The man folded his arms behind his back and continued, “But all that aside, what makes you so sure he will be able to find you here? And even if he does, what makes you so sure he will be able to do anything against all of us, hm?” Splinter raised a single brow.

Tommy huffed a sharp, frustrated exhale, crossing his own arms over his chest and tapping a finger against his bicep. “He’ll get here the same way I did, except he literally shares a name with the main bastard god on that server. And I know he’ll find me because he always does. It doesn’t matter where I go, he always finds me. 

“But I can’t stay here and wait for it this time, I need to go back. For Tubbo– for everyone, really– but especially for Tubbo. Dream doesn’t give a shit about Tubbo, but I do, which means the longer I stay away, the more danger he’s in. Because Dream will use him to get at me, and I can’t let that happen. Tubbo deserves so much more than to be a pawn in Dream’s shitty games,” Tommy spat bitterly, thinking of all the times Dream had used Tommy’s best friend to further his own means.

Leo rolled his shoulders. “So then we portal over there, take care of Dream, make sure Tubbo’s okay– possibly take him with us– and then everything’s all bueno, right?”

Wait, what?

Tommy was quick to shake his head, “No, no, it is not all bueno. You can’t come with me, I need to do this alone,” he denied outright. Because that was a fucking terrible idea.

Casey Jr slipped over to Leo’s side. He didn’t look particularly happy about what Tommy was saying. “There’s no reason for you to take unnecessary risks by running off on your own. You have a team here, let them help you,” he stressed firmly.

Tommy’s ears splayed in annoyance. “It’s not unnecessary, this is the only way to fix things. If I bring any of you along, Dream’ll just use that against me. I’m not budgin’ on this. You have no idea what you’re getting into and I– I– I won’t be able to explain it good. This is me and Tubbo versus Dream, like it’s always been. So either you help me get there– alone– or I run out right fucking now and find some other way to get back. And who the fuck knows if the other way will drop me in the void or not.” He couldn’t let Dream get his claws in them too. He’d never forgive himself for that, not in a million years.

Between the ultimatum and dead-serious glare he was fixing the group with, Tommy could tell he was finally starting to wear down on them.

He was being fully serious as well. He was done running from his problems, but he wouldn’t put any more people in danger to do it.

All of them deserved better.

“Fine.” It was Leo who said it, and immediately got sent several unhappy looks and disapproving mutters.

Leo raised his hands in the face of their criticisms. “What? It’s like Tommy said, either we agree or he runs away to do something way more dangerous. I don’t know about you guys, but I don’t think falling into the void sounds like a very safe activity,” he deadpanned.

Just as Tommy was about to thank Leo for his help, the other teen pointed at him with a sharp look. “That being said, I think we should lay down some guidelines first. Namely that if you’re not done over there by the time three days are up, we’re busting in whether you like it or not, capiche?” Leo emphasised the last word with a snap of his fingers.

Tommy took a second to think it over, gaze lifting to the ceiling with a hum as he considered.

Three days would probably be enough time… maybe…

Well, if he stole some gear from Techno before challenging Dream it would be.

The decision was made.

Tommy held his hand out to Leo. “Deal,” he confirmed, shaking hands.

Casey was looking increasingly bitter about the whole thing. Cassandra, on the other hand, was watching on from the corner of the room with an impassive expression.

Tommy turned his head to look at Mikey, who looked… defeated.

Oh, and there was the guilt, coming back for yet another reprise.

Tommy tried to give him a smile, but he could barely get the corners of his mouth to upturn. “Hey, don’t even worry about it, Big M. I’ll be back before you know it, alright? Maybe I’ll even bring Tubbo and his kid with me. You an’ Michael can be big Mike and little Mike.” Tommy really hoped he wasn’t lying right now.

But with Dream involved, his hopes were… Well, they weren’t exactly high, that was for sure.

No one else had to know that though.

The suggestion of getting to meet Michael did depressingly little to lift Mikey’s mood, his lower lip going so far as to wobble. “I’ll hold you to that,” he threatened, eyes shining with tears.

Tommy felt a laugh bubble up, strangely choked and accompanied by blurring vision. “I’m sure you will, Mike, I’m sure you will. Now let’s get somewhere with a little less shit to blow around, yeah?” He suggested, wiping his eyes and clearing his throat.

Mikey somehow managed to look even more heartbroken. “You’re leaving now? But what about– oh! We should have breakfast, and then watch a movie while we eat, and– and…” Mikey’s warbling voice trailed off and he tucked his face most of the way into his shell.

Fuck, this was awful. Tommy was awful.

Tabling his guilt, Tommy pulled Mikey into another hug, tucking the shorter boy’s head under his chin. “‘M sorry, Mike, but the longer I’m away the higher the chance Tubbo’s already– y’know… dead…” Tubbo better not be fucking dead.

If Tubbo was dead by the time Tommy got there he– well, the plan would turn into something very different and Tommy was really hoping to avoid having to use himself as a bargaining chip if at all possible, so with any luck, it wouldn’t come to that.

And then Leo ruined the mood by suddenly flinging himself into the hug. “Group hug!”

Very quickly, the entire room converged on Tommy and Mikey, turtles, Splinter, Caseys and all.

Tommy was squeezed in a hug that was as comforting as it was bone crushing, a choppy purr rumbling in his throat that stuttered on every inhale.

He could have lived in that moment forever under different circumstances, warm and surrounded by a wall of people he’d come to trust.

But he had a job to do, so when the hug had run its course, Tommy led the way with grim determination towards the atrium.

It was there, while watching the turtles mentally prepare themselves for the upcoming portal that Tommy remembered he was still wearing Leo’s hoodie.

He frowned thoughtfully at the garment. “Leo, did you want your hoodie back? Because full transparency, it is probably going to get fucked up if I bring this with me.” The joys of any possible combination between TNT, lava, bows, swords, and axes. You never knew what brand of fucked up your clothes would become over the course of the day.

That was the good old fashioned DreamSMP charm.

Leo waved him off. “Eh, don’t worry about it. I’ve got plenty like it,” he insisted flippantly.

Tommy cast a glance over in the direction of Leo’s room. Did he have more like it? Tommy didn’t remember if he’d seen multiple or not.

Whatever, it wasn’t important, and Mikey was beckoning Tommy over to show him a good picture of Tubbo anyway.

Mikey stared at the picture, expression indescribable, before suddenly solidifying into determination. “Okay, let’s do this, baby, mystic portal jutsu time,” he said, seemingly for his own benefit more than anything else.

Raph, Donnie, and Leo all fell into place around Mikey, each with a hand on either shoulder or shell.

Just like when they sent Phil’s crow back, a growing mass of golden light began to form in front of Mikey’s extended hands as wind began to whip around the spacious room.

While the portal was opening, Cassandra slunk over to Tommy. “I wish you luck in vanquishing the soul of your enemy. Do not stop until he has crumbled beneath your heel!” she shouted her own delightfully overenthusiastic brand of encouragement.

The portal was open.

Tommy gave Cassandra an informal salute paired with a lazy grin. “Damn right, Cassandra. I’m gonna make that green bastard wish he never fucking messed with me.”

Casey Jr was waiting for him with the turtles, though all he’d said was a simple, ”Stay alive,” before stepping out of the way.

Tommy looked through the portal, and promptly lost the breath in his lungs at the sight of Tubbo’s Snowchester cabin.

It looked exactly the same as the last time he’d seen it (please let that be a good thing).

Raph gave Tommy a solid pat on the back with the hand that wasn’t resting on Mikey’s shell. “Hey, you stay safe out there, okay? Don’t do anything Raph wouldn’t do, got it?” Raph gave Tommy a menacing scowl that really just meant he was super worried.

Tommy pat his arm in return, guiltily avoiding looking at the bite mark that had thankfully stopped bleeding, “Don’t you worry, big man, Careful’s my middle name,” he assured with a cheeky wink. Never mind that he’d made his entire name himself for the sake of bit convenience.

Oh well, what Raph didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Donnie peered over Mikey’s head to look at Tommy with raised brows. “That is the fakest middle name I have ever heard. But yes, stay safe, don’t die and all that. My dumb-dumb brothers would have emotions over it.”

Leo sent Donnie a sly smirk. “Oh, but not you though?”

An eye roll. “Obviously not, Nardo. Emotions aren’t part of my carefully curated image–” his eyes flicked over to Tommy, “–that being said, it would be a shame if I made all that stuff for you just die to some masked villain wannabe– so you better come back.” Oh yeah, he totally cared.

Tommy couldn’t help but grin. “Yeah, yeah, fuck you too, dickhead. Try not to get a bigger head while I’m gone.”

He stepped towards the open portal, stopping right in front of it with the wind doing its damndest to pull him in.

Tommy turned, taking in the lair and its occupants for what he sincerely hoped wouldn’t be the last time. His eyes eventually landed on Mikey and he felt his smile wane into something much more reserved. “I’ll see you in a few days,” he promised (hoped), and then walked backwards into the cold snow of Tubbo’s front lawn.

Wonderfully, he barely felt the cold through the dense layers of fur insulating his entire body.

He forced his smile to make a proper resurgence as the gateway began to shrink, waving goodbye and just hoping it was more reassuring than it felt.

The gateway was about halfway closed and shrinking fast when something happened.

And by something, Tommy meant that Leo, in the span of less than a second, had thrown one of his katanas through the portal with expert precision. A flash of electric blue followed the blade in the same instant that the gateway blinked fully out of existence.

“Sorry, Tommy–” Leo spun his katana before sheathing it neatly behind his back, “–but I’ve already done the whole self-sacrifice thing before– and I gotta say, getting kinda sick of it by now,” he quipped.

And Tommy?

Tommy felt nothing but dread and grief for what would happen in the days to come.