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A brightness overtaking his whole body, consuming him until he arose out of the dirt back to life, that was what Wilbur experienced as his body was pieced back together. After 13 long years in limbo he felt the sun on his skin again.
Readjusting to living, breathing, feeling was tough. With every breath his lungs ached from years of no use. It was strange too, acknowledging how revival had changed him, gone were the scars of his previous life. Perhaps this was a chance at rebirth, renewal.
It wasn't long before Tommy found him, with Tubbo, a tall stranger, and a blue sheep in tow.
Tommy let out a shaky breath upon seeing Wilbur, his brother, looking even more alive, more refreshed, than he had looked prior to his demise.
"Tommy, Tubbo," Wilbur nodded to them in turn. "I see you've brought some friends to welcome me back"
"You shouldn't be here," Tommy sputters out, gripping the lead attached to the blue sheep so hard that his knuckles turned white. The next words come out more of a mutter, fast and presumably to himself. "She should be here, not you, not now, this is all my fault."
"She?" Wilbur asks, the question hanging in the air.
Tommy looks at Wilbur, eyes wide and afraid. He gathers that he was not supposed to have heard that.
Finally, it's Tubbo that breaks the silence, "Your ghost, man. Dream sent her to limbo when he revived you."
"Her?!"
"What's not clicking?" Tubbo asked.
"Why would my ghost be a girl?" Wilbur asks, the sun blinding him. A spotlight placed on his person, showcasing all the flaws and fears, suffocating, dreadful, and yet it shines on.
"I don't know, buddy, why don't you ask yourself that," Tubbo says before leading the entorage away, leaving Wilbur with his thoughts.
Wilbur's world shifts in that moment. Conflicting feelings of despair, confusion, and excitement flood his mind. Maybe revival was a chance to reinvent himself— herself? He wasn't sure. He has this new chance at life… but was his ghost even anything like the real flesh and blood him, maybe she was confused, maybe things were different in the ghostly realm, was the ghost even really him? If she was, what did that mean for this revived version of him?
Was he a woman? The thought scared him. The thought excited him.
He supposed he had his whole life to figure it out.
"I don't really understand why you're dragging me out here," Tommy grumbled as he and Wilbur made their way to Techno and Phil's cabins, the sound of dogs barking signalling that they were close.
"You don't have to follow me," Wilbur said, knowing that Tommy would follow him anywhere, grumbling or not. Their strained relationship had been building back up to normalcy and Tommy had been a tail on him ever since.
Wilbur knew Tommy was afraid to lose him again, afraid that he was glass waiting to shatter and send shards splintering into every person who had ever loved him. Wilbur understood.
Tommy scoffed at this. Kicking up a cloud of snow, he said, "Prime knows what'd happen without me here. Don't want you tripping over your own legs and freezing to death out here in some freak accident. Really you should be thanking me."
"Thank you, oh great one," Wilbur said in mock appreciation.
"About time I got some respect around here."
The cabins came into view, and some of Techno's hounds ran up to greet Wilbur and Tommy with slobbery kisses.
"Apollo, down ," Wilbur commanded, practically knocked over as the dog jumped up on him.
Apollo doesn't obey and Wilbur finds himself tackled to the ground, landing flat on his ass.
A sharp whistle rings through the air and Apollo and the other dogs retreat back towards the cabin. At first, Wilbur thinks that maybe Techno has called them back, but the whistle was too high pitched and melodic, didn't have the same deep tone as Techno's.
Wilbur stands up, wiping the snow off of his trench coat and pants. Looking to see who had commanded the dogs, he sees Niki, haloed by the sun, her pink hair rimmed with light. She looked radiant, she looked pissed.
"Wilbur." She greets, spitting out his name as if it was something foul, an unwanted presence gracing her tongue.
"Niki! Long time no see," Wilbur responds, cheerfully, not acknowledging the vitriol in her tone. "What brings you to Phil's humble abode?"
If he was honest, he deserved this disdain, and worse. He knew this, he had abandoned Niki, more than once. L'manberg's first lady scorned.
"Phil and Techno are my friends."
They stand there staring each other down, unspoken words forming between then. Its as if they are the only two people in the world in that moment until Tommy, who Wilbur had forgotten was with him, cuts in.
"Hi, Niki," Tommy says, putting himself between Wilbur and Niki, his way of protecting Wilbur. "Been a while."
Something flashes on Niki's face when her eyes land on Tommy, Wilbur cant quite place it and before he can analyze it, it's gone.
"Tommy, " she nods after a moment. "Will you two be staying long?"
"I reckon it's not really any of your business," Tommy snaps.
Niki flinches, but says nothing. Wilbur is unsure what the hell happened between the two of them, but decides he should play the peacekeeper, put his charming words to good use.
"Phil invited us for dinner," Wilbur says calmly. "Are you planning on staying too?"
"I was . . ." Niki looks unsure of herself. "But I think it would be best if I didn't."
"Nonsense," Wilbur says. "We have a lot to catch up on, don't we?"
Despite Tommy's protests and Niki's hesitation the three of them find themselves seated at a table with Technoblade and Phil, baked potatoes and steak adorning their plates. Despite Wilbur's insistence that they needed to catch up, an awkward scraping of forks on plates was the only sound that graced their ears.
Until Phil cleared his throat. "Its nice to see you looking so healthy, Wil. Seems like revival is treating you well."
It's a bit odd, Wilbur will admit, crawling back into his father's embrace after taking his last breath in those same arms. Theres an unspoken agreement between the two of them to not bring it up, Phil never was one for having the hard conversations after all.
"It's been an adjustment," Wilbur says, his wings fluttering anxiously behind him. "But, hey, anything is better than thirteen years in solitude, right?"
Niki scoffs. Phil is oblivious to any animosity that lingers between the two of them. Tommy is tense. And Techno looks like he want's to grab some popcorn and sit back for the show, and who is Wilbur to disappoint an audience?
"Is there something you'd like to say, Niki?"
"You shouldn't have come back," is all she spits out, arms crossed in defiance.
"Well, I didn't have much choice did I?" Wilbur asks, a sickening smile gracing his features. "Dream made that decision for me, and who am I to deny a gift as precious as life?"
"Life is a precious gift, huh? You didn't seem to think that when you blew L'manberg to smithereens and left us all to pick up the pieces," Niki growls. "Although, no— maybe I have to thank you. It was much nicer with your ghost around, at least SHE seemed to care about cleaning up your mess. It's a shame we're left with you instead of her."
Phil looks wide-eyed between the two of them, while Techno looks like he's about to fall out of his seat laughing at the shitstorm brewing before him.
"Sorry to disappoint, but she's gone, and you're stuck with me now. You can live with that reality or take matters into your own hands and join her in limbo."
Niki's fury is palpable, you could almost see the steam coming out of her ears. But rather than grace Wilbur with a retort she stands up abrubtly and storms out of the cottage.
Her fury hangs in the air, an atmosphere of discomfort.
"I'm going to go make sure she doesn't burn anything down . . ." Techno says, grabbing his cloak and rushing out the door.
While it may be true that Techno was going to stop any disaster that may befall anything in Niki's path, Wilbur knows he isn't one to stick around when things get awkward.
"Well, that was dramatic," Wilbur comments, taking a bite of his steak. He decides nonchalance is the best way to hide the fact that he can't help dwelling on the reality that no one seems to happy that he's taken the place of his ghost.
Phil coughs, looks between an uncomfortable Tommy and a distracted Wilbur, and then goes back to eating his food in silence, knowing it isn't worth it to lecture his son.
Son, is he even a son anymore? Wilbur wonders what it would be like to be more like his ghost, would it ease the disconcerting rotten feeling that lingered beneath his skin? What was so good about her anyways? Was it simply that she was a woman? Was she kinder? Happier? Wilbur didn't care to linger on these thoughts but he couldn't stop gnawing on them like a tough piece of steak.
Maybe she had been more pleasant in death than he was in life. The hardest part for Wilbur, was reckoning with the fact that she wasn't gone, not in the way everyone had thought she was. No, she was not locked in limbo for the eternity that he deserved, sure he had made the comment for Niki to join her, but really he just needed some bite to make Niki angry. He always was good at pushing buttons.
No, when he came back, entered that train on the platform he felt something reenter him, something he felt was missing in limbo, a happier part of him that was desperate to claw her way out to the surface. But he pushed her down, uncomfortable with the fact that everyone adored her and wanted to replace him. But maybe this bitterness wasn't the answer. It was scary to consider . . . that everything he had ever been could change, for better or worse.
He swallowed his steak, no longer gnawing at its toughness, and bid farewell to Phil, gesturing for Tommy to follow him.
He would make things right in time.
A week passes, not without difficulty.
Wilbur knew he had to apologize, but before he could even fathom doing that he had to sit with himself and process growing unease within himself. The lingering feeling that things could be better, brighter, is an uncomfortable one.
But, after a week of chewing on these tough thoughts Wilbur came to a revelation, and Niki was who he wanted to confide in. He had burned that bridge, blown it to smithereens, but there wasn't anything a little bit of rebuilding couldn't fix, even if it was shattered piece by shattered piece. After all, even Niki had rebuilt her bakery from the ground up.
And so that is where Wilbur finds himself on this day. Unannounced at the doorstep of Niki's bakery, the sunshine of dawn illuminating his silhouette as he takes a deep breath and enters the establishment, over an hour before it's opening time, ready as he can be for however Niki will react.
The bell above the door gives a melodious chime as he enters.
"Welcome in," Niki's voice calls from the back. "I'll be with you shortly."
Wilbur fidgets with the frayed edge of his jacket sleeve, tapping his foot anxiously against the checkered tile floor. Maybe this is a bad idea, Niki won't want to see him, no matter how much he craves the friendship they had lost by no ones fault but his own. But before he can chicken out and escape through the front door, Niki's pink hair comes into view.
"What can I help you with— Oh," Her lips curl in a snarl as soon as she sees him standing there. "Get out."
Its pointed, firm. Wilbur has half a mind to comply, but you can't mend bridges if you don't try.
And so he throws up his hands in surrender. "I'm not here to cause problems," He starts, "at least not intentionally."
"Problems follow you wherever you go, Wil," Niki says, her stiff posture easing ever so slightly.
"Fair enough," Wilbur lowers his arms and takes a step towards Niki.
She takes a step back. "If not to cause problems, why are you here?"
"I missed you," He says, and then realizes how odd that sounds given their last meeting. "And— I would like to apologize."
"When have you ever been one to apologize?" Niki spits out.
Wilbur flinches, stung by the truth. "Consider me turning over a new leaf. Niki— I— well, I don't know . . . I don't like how I left things off. At dinner." He pauses. "And— before."
Niki folds her arms over her chest.
Wilbur gulps. "I don't really know how to say this next part . . . I— Well, you know my ghost?"
"Ghostbur? Yeah, what about her."
"She is me, or a part of me at least."
Confusion blossoms on Niki's face. "I'm not following."
"Well, like— Okay this is going to sound weird, but when I was brought back, back from Limbo that is, she and I became one? I think at least. What I do know is she isn't back there rotting on that platform in hell."
Skepticism finds itself laced into the wrinkle of Niki's nose.
Wilbur takes a deep breath and admits, "I think I am her, at least part of me. And it seems like shes the much happier part. Its— well, I think I'm a woman, Niki." She fidgets with her hands, sweat forming underneath her fingerless gloves. "I haven't told anyone this, not even Tommy . . . Its a weird feeling. That maybe what I've always known to be true is a lie? I don't really know if Tommy would get it." She looks at Niki expectantly.
Niki stays silent for a moment, brows furrowed, and then speaks, anger on her tongue, "So, what you're doing is you're using me to softlaunch womanhood? Is that all this is to you? Excuse me, if I'm hesitant to believe good intentions given your track record."
"No, Niki, it's not like that. I-I don't know its just ever since I merged with her, ever since revival when I was told about her, its like the pieces clicked into place? It feels right, but I don't know how to navigate it." She sighs wringing her hands together. "I want to make things right, but I want to do it as my true self."
She looks at Wilbur, unreadable expression on her face, and then turns her face away from her and speaks, "You know, I'd always been at your side, in L'manberg, in Pogtopia, before any of it! Sometimes I feel like I was in your shadow. Maybe we all were." she sighs, and then looks back at him in the eyes "but despite it all I believed in you, you were my friend, my best friend… and some part of me still wants that to be true. Can we ever rebuild this relationship? or will I always be a shadow of your burning brightness?"
"Niki I never once saw you as a shadow . . . You were every bit as important to me as I was you— I guess I lost sight of that in Pogtopia, but I lost sight of a lot of things then." She is visibly shaking now, holding back tears. "I was— I was blinded, lost sight of what was right in front of me out of anger and disappointment for losing the one thing I felt I had control over." She sighs and looks to Niki with watery eyes. "I'm sorry, you have every right to not forgive me, but I am sorry."
Niki leans back, her mouth in a tight line and her eyes unfocused. Then she leans forward, her face light with acceptance, forgiveness. Not out of naivety as she had in the past, but out of a longing to have her friend back, to not let her anger control her every action. She had seen what misplaced anger could do to her, and while her anger at Wilbur wasn't necessarily misplaced she knew it would get her nowhere.
Niki sighs, gesturing for her to sit down as she takes a seat of her own. "I wasn't very fair to you at dinner."
"I think you were fair enough," she says sitting across from her, chair squeaking as she fidgets in her place. "Well— maybe it's not what I wanted to hear, but you have every right to not want me in your life, or I guess even back in the corporeal realm."
"Wil, I didn't mean it, or— Okay, I did mean it, but that was my anger talking," She reaches a hand across the table to rest it on the hand that Wilbur hadn't realized was tapping against the table anxiously. "I've become quite the firecracker in your absence."
"You always were one," She looks between their hands on the table and Niki's softening features.
Niki giggles, a cute girlish thing, reminiscent of late nights in L'manberg. Almost foreign on the tough exterior she's built around herself. "So, what should I call you?"
"Pardon?" She tilts her head looking into Niki's grey eyes.
"Do you still want to be Wilbur? or is there another name?"
She's rubbing soothing circles into Wilbur's hand with her thumb, absentmindedly. Wilbur stiffles a blush.
"I guess I hadn't really thought of anything beyond the initial euphoria at being a woman . . . Should I pick a new name?"
"Do you want to?"
Wilbur taps her fingertips against the counter, halting Niki's thumb, and hums. "I'm not sure — I don't know. It feels right if I'm reinventing myself and all, but I'm also quite attached to Wil."
"Could go with something like Willow?" Niki suggests.
"Hmm. It's close but I'm not sure its me. Willamena maybe?"
"What about Willoughby?"
Wilbur grimaces at the suggestion. Niki bursts into a delightful laugh, Wilbur following suit.
"Okay— okay yeah that was a bad one," She hums looking Wilbur up and down. "You know you could just be Wil, nothing more, nothing less. Besides theres no rule saying you need to choose a new name, or even have all of the answers right away."
"Well in that case, Wil it is," she says a dopey smile gracing her face.
They sit and talk for some time after that, Niki brings out a new apple danish she's trying out (and it's as delightful as anything she's ever made).
"You know," Niki says between bitefuls of danish. "I have some old skirts and dresses I don't wear anymore. Not sure if thats something you'd be interested in, they're not really my thing anymore."
"I'd be very interested."
"I'll send you the coords to my base and you can meet me there this afternoon" She stands up and wipes her hands on her apron. "I'd better open up shop, it's getting close to time."
"Sound like a plan." Wilbur hesitates a moment, "and- thank you, Niki, really."
"Anytime Wil. See you around"
"Weren't you two screaming each others heads off just a week ago? Are you sure this is a good idea?" Phil worries, as Wilbur grabs her worn out coat to head to the coords Niki messaged her.
"I've never been more sure of anything."
Niki's room is a mess, but somehow it suits her. A messy room for a messy person. Wil couldn't deny she was the same.
"This pile right here are some skirts I think will fit you, or at least look normal on you," Niki says gesturing to a pile laid out on her bed. "I also have some that I'm less convinced will fit you or your personal style but if you're going to be trying on clothes may as well have some fun with it." She tosses Wil a brown skirt with flowers embroidered onto the hem. "This one was too long for me in the first place so I think it should suit your freakishly long legs."
"My legs are the legs of a model, excuse you," She says gripping the skirt between her fingers. This is real. This is happening.
"Yeah, yeah and models are all freaks so you fit right in," Niki laughs. "Are you going to try it on?"
"Right here?"
"I mean you can change in the bathroom if you are really that self conscious, but its not like I haven't seen it all before." Pogtopia didn't have much in terms of privacy after all.
"I guess you're right." It felt different now, though. She begins removing her black frayed jeans and pauses when she catches Niki's watchful eye on her. "Actually could you turn around."
"Right, sorry," Niki coughs, turning around. She hadn't been meaning to stare, not really, but she was a person after all and a little curiousity wasn't a bad thing.
"Okay, I'm decent."
Niki turns around and her jaw drops. It's as if the skirt was made for Wilbur. "I knew I held onto that skirt for a reason."
"Are you sure it looks okay?" Wilbur looks at herself fretfully in the mirror.
"It looks more than okay! Especially with your sweater."
"I guess you're right, I'm just not really used to it yet . . ."
"Do you not like it? Do you want to stop?" Niki is hovering next to Wil.
"No— no nothing like that, I really do like it, it's just an adjustment seeing myself in nice clothes."
"There's always time to adjust."
"Yeah— yeah, you're right." Wilbur softens, checking herself out in the mirror, playing with her skirt.
"As per usual."
And so they go about the task of trying on dresses and skirts, Niki even throws on a few. As the afternoon progresses they get even more comfortable in each others company, rebuilding the relationship that was once lost, brick by brick.