Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Fuck, Wilbur, Atra’s here.”

Wilbur nearly stopped in his tracks before remembering that he was actively being chased. He kept running, glancing back to see one of the villains in jetpacks closing in.

“Can you call Phil? I’m busy,” Wilbur answered, trying not to sound afraid.

“Literally just use the voice command.”

“I’m fucking busy—” Wilbur dived off the roof.

He wasn’t really thinking when he did it. Unlike his father, Wilbur did not have a glider made into his suit. So he was just plummeting. Fast.

“Hey Tech, are you close?” Wilbur asked, still falling.

“Why?”

“I’m falling.”

“WILBUR—”

Wilbur anxiously watched the ground rushing up to meet him, and he looked everywhere for Techno. Then he looked up and was, at the very least, pleased to see that the villain wasn’t following him now.

Because he was going to die.

Something slammed into Wilbur’s side and he nearly cheered. Then the pain of the impact hit him, and he was suddenly yanked upward.

With a grunt, Wilbur clicked his mouth shut to avoid puking.

Technoblade, currently in the form of a dragon, had his claws wrapped around Wilbur's middle, and was gliding him back to the ground. He was not gentle in putting Wilbur down.

“Why did you jump?!” Techno asked, already shifted back into his human form.

Wilbur had landed roughly on his ass in the grass lawn of some useless government building. He looked up, lips pressed into a nervous smile.

“I was distracted.”

Techno leaned down, grabbed Wilbur’s shirt, and lifted him to his feet. “Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Great. Help me find Atra.”

Wilbur tensed. “You really saw him? He’s been gone for months.”

“I saw him,” Techno said through gritted teeth. Then he showed his forearm. “Did we know he could do this?”

Wilbur gasped and took Techno’s arm into his hands. There were black veins swimming up Techno’s arm, and his fingertips were turning black.

“No,” Wilbur said, high-pitched and desperate, “No, we did not know he could wither people.”

“Phil’s on his way but… Atra and these other guys? Schlatt’s gotta be going after something big.”

Wilbur let Techno’s arm go and ran a stressed hand through his hair and down his face.

“Okay here’s the plan,” Techno started. “The other heroes can handle the goons, we need to get Atra. So steal my power and let’s fly around the city—I have his scent so just stick close.”

Wilbur nodded and touched Techno’s forearm again, this time focusing on his power. Wilbur’s eyes glowed and he felt a brief, only seconds-long headache behind his eyes before it faded.

Wilbur dropped Techno’s arm and stepped back. He focused on generating scales, then wings, the claws and limbs, a tail, and fiery breath.

Techno had transformed already. He was a dark red dragon. Wilbur was dark blue. He always loved stealing Techno’s power.

Techno huffed and turned around to take off. Wilbur was slower than him, still recovering from the sensation of growing into a dragon’s body, but he followed. Together they climbed the skyline and overlooked the city. Techno closed his eyes every minute or so to try to catch on to Atra’s scent.

Wilbur had not yet mastered the hunting and tracking part of being a dragon.

It took Techno years to figure out how to shift into mythical creatures. Wilbur could only do it because Techno developed his power that far.

That didn’t mean that Wilbur was any good at using it.

“Caught it,” Techno said.

If it weren’t such a dire situation, Wilbur would snort at how funny a talking dragon looked.

They dived back toward the ground. Cameras flashed in from the streets, reporters and paparazzi flooded the area below them. But the brothers were too fast, Wilbur barely caught a word that anyone said.

“He’s close,” Techno hissed. “He’s running.”

Wilbur was flying next to Techno when his slitted pupils thinned, when smoke tumbled from his mouth.

Wilbur looked ahead and saw it too.

They sped forward, trying to catch Atra before he could take off with his wings—his dragon wings.

He was in the middle of the street, nobody dared to get close to him. He was flapping his wings weakly, trying to gain momentum. He’d never struggled like that before…

Wilbur let out a warning roar and Techno shot out in front of him. In a second, Techno knocked Atra into the concrete, pinning him under a claw. Atra didn’t move, and for a moment, Wilbur was worried Techno had crushed him in the landing.

Wilbur landed too and shifted into his human form. He knelt next to Atra’s head, poking out from between Techno’s claws. He listened for breathing and found them shallow and raspy.

“Jesus, Techno, you almost fucking squashed him!” Wilbur swatted Techno’s claw.

“Shut up. This was too easy. He was—he was weak or this was a decoy or something.”

Atra made a loud wheezing noise and his outstretched hand twitched. Techno’s claw tensed around him, not squeezing, just firm. Wilbur stepped back.

“Where the hell is Phil?” he hissed.

“Here,” Phil said, landing elegantly next to Wilbur. He looked down at Atra like he was Jesus Christ under those claws. “Good job boys—that’s—you’ll get an award for that I’m sure.”

Atra’s hand curled into a fist. Not an angry one, a pained one. Techno leaned his large head down to sniff at the villain, and even took the risk of lifting his claw. He cupped the other one around the villain so he couldn’t escape, but Atra didn’t even try.

“Medics are on their way here but the other villains are still causing a scene,” Phil explained. “If Niki calls for backup I want you to go, Wilbur.”

Wilbur nodded and eagerly waited to see what Techno had to say about Atra.

“He’s in rough shape,” Techno said. “It’s not good I—I can smell rotting flesh.”

Phil frowned. “That can’t be from this fight.”

Techno shook his head. “It’s not. It’s old—well it’s new but it’s been brewing for a while.”

“Do you see where it is?” Wilbur asked.

“Of course not, he’s covered from head to toe. It’s his thing.”

Atra wore an all-black suit. He had pockets on his pockets, a bulletproof vest, a belt of knives and other gizmos, and of course his metal plate mask. It was just a triangular shaped piece of plain black metal. The rest of his face was covered by a slick black layer of fabric and black goggles.

“Fuck,” Atra hissed. “Fuck—fuck—”

Curses of pain, not panic.

“Is medical close?” Techno asked.

“Yes. Any second,” Phil said.

“Phil he’s—he’s really beat up.” Techno appeared to be marveling at the sight but he also seemed horrified.

Atra had been gone, like Wilbur said, for months. Seven, to be exact. Now he was back in the same costume, with the same allies, and a smidge of rotting flesh and broken bones.

Atra started pushing past his pain when the ambulances arrived to take citizens and heroes.

“Bastards,” he spat. He tried to push against Techno’s heavy claw. “Get off.”

Atra tried to roll onto his back but Techno didn’t let him move. Then Atra reached out to touch Techno’s scales.

“They won’t wither,” Techno told him. “How are you doing that through your gloves by the way?”

Atra groaned—in pain again. His wings retracted.

A team of medics rushed over with a gurney—one designed specifically to hold villains down. Atra saw it, flicked his wrist, and a sword appeared in his hand. He weakly swung it back at Techno, who grimaced at the sharp feeling.

It didn’t break the scales or draw blood though.

With his free claw, Techno caught the sword and pulled it out of Atra’s hands. The second Atra wasn’t touching it, the sword disappeared.

“Literally how?” Techno asked again.

The medical team now knelt in front of Atra who looked subdued and barely awake. Not that Wilbur could tell too easily through the mask.

“Can you lift him on?” one of the medics asked.

Techno nodded and hummed, carefully scooping Atra up into his hands. He placed the villain on the gurney like a doll into its little bed. Atra barely moved and was now at the incoherent mumbling stage of being extracted.

Phil placed a hand on Wilbur’s shoulder. “Can’t believe you boys got him. Do you know how many times he’s evaded whole teams of heroes?”

Wilbur smiled, but it was dim. “Techno’s right though. It wasn’t us. He was already hurt, or sick… or something. It must have to do with why he’s been inactive for so long.”

Phil hummed. “Well, now that we have him we can look into it. He’ll be stabilized tonight I imagine, and tomorrow we can demask him and start our investigations.”

“They won’t demask him in medical?”

“Not allowed to. Patient privacy and all—only the team assigned to the villain can decide to do that. And we’re doing it.”

Wilbur nodded. “I would hope so.”

Atra was completely unconscious again by the time he was fully strapped into the gurney. Techno shifted into his human form and he joined Wilbur and Phil.

“Niki says they’re all wrapped up,” Phil told them. “So we’re gonna go with Atra in case he causes any trouble.”

The brothers nodded, following Phil as he turned to walk.

“You seem disturbed,” Wilbur whispered.

“I am,” Techno admitted. “He smelled so weird.”

“Ew.”

Techno gave Wilbur one of his be serious looks, so Wilbur raised his hands placatingly. Techno rubbed at his slowly withering arm.

“I mean he smelled like another dragon because of the wings but… not like me? And the flesh thing—he must have an infected wound somewhere.”

“Does Phil know about your arm,” Wilbur said loudly on purpose.

Phil turned around lightning fast and latched onto the sight that was Techno’s ashen arm. Phil let out a little gasp and took Techno’s arm the same way Wilbur had. So gently, so lightly.

“We’ll have this taken care of in the ambulance—were you going to tell me?”

Techno chuckled. “I forgot about it. I was distracted by one of the most dangerous villains in the world.”

Phil gave Techno the be serious look.

“Sorry dad.”

Phil ushered Techno toward the ambulance with more haste and Wilbur grinned all the way. His expression fell again at seeing Atra laid out on the gurney inside the vehicle. He really looked awful.

The thing about Atra was that he wasn’t particularly malicious. He was destructive, he worked for other villains, and he had successfully assassinated two government officials… but he wasn’t really evil perse.

He didn’t hurt just to hurt. He didn’t kill for the fun of it or terrorize anyone because it was fun. Wilbur didn’t exactly know his motive, but Atra, amongst all of the villains they knew, was actually one of the more reasonable ones.

He was still a top-priority villain because of his power set. The complication was that they didn’t know what his powers were. He could generate swords, wither, conjure fire, electrocute—he had everything and they couldn’t understand how.

Working theories were that he could steal powers like Wilbur but he had the ability to hold onto them. He’d never taken Techno’s power before though, or if he had he’d never used it. Another theory was that his power was ‘all powers’ but they figured he’d do a lot more damage if that were really the truth.

“He’ll need a few months of recovery. We have the space in Pandora but he’ll stay in hospital at the tower for a day or two I would guess,” one of the medics tending to Atra said.

Phil nodded and continued to ask questions about Atra’s health and recovery. Wilbur didn’t bother listening, he kept trying to come up with explanations for the guy’s powers instead.

**********

Tommy woke up gasping, trying to clutch at his chest only to find his wrist fastened down by straps. He tried to lift his head but the world rolled. He tumbled with it, being tossed against wall after wall of pain and nausea and fear and embarrassment—

“Breathe, you’re safe.”

Like hell.

His stomach churned and squeezed but that sensation dulled when the pain faded in. His ribs creaked when he breathed and his head thrummed. His wrists hurt from pulling on the restraints.

“Stop moving, at least let yourself wake up before you try to escape.”

Tommy groaned and turned his head away from whoever was speaking. Distantly he thought it could be Teneo, the hero he was trying to draw out. Before failing. Miserably.

“You’re going to stay here for a little while so we can make sure you’re stable,” the person continued. Their voice became clearer as Tommy took in a few breaths. “You’ll answer some questions and the more you cooperate the better Pandora will be for you.”

Tommy turned back to the speaker. It was in fact Teneo. He was in his hero suit, but not masked. Tommy had studied his face well in case he ever saw the man in the streets. Tommy’s newest mission was to kill that man and his sons.

Not really because he wanted to but he certainly needed to.

“I’m going to give you about five minutes to orient yourself and ask me questions. Then I’ll have a team come in and we’ll get started.”

Tommy turned his head up to the ceiling, clenched his eyes shut, and held back a sob. God, crying always hurt. If tear ducts could close up from lack of use, Tommy’s would after everything. His fabric face covering was off and so were his goggles, but his suit was still on. His hair was showing and that was already too much.

“We will demask you here,” Teneo said.

He kept speaking but that was all Tommy needed to hear to sit up harshly, pulling at the leather on his arms and wrists.

“What?” he asked.

Although he didn’t really speak. He felt the vibration in his temples of the technology reading his mind. Stupid wires, they buzzed under his skin and ran up the side of his face.

“We’re going to demask you and store your identity.”

They couldn’t. Literally, even if they tried, they would not get this mask off.

“You can’t.”

Tommy hadn’t heard his own voice in so long. As much as he wished this chunk of metal could be removed, it could not. Not without killing him, probably.

“We can and we will.”

“No. No—I mean you can’t. You can try, it will not come off.”

Teneo raised an eyebrow. “Elaborate.”

Well, he wasn’t going to do that. Tommy would not admit to his enemies that he was being punished. He didn’t need them seeing him this way. So far Atra was fearsome and uncatchable. They made history when they caught him. Tommy was the great escapist of the hero-villain world. He was the mystery that nobody could decipher.

Punished. He would not admit to being punished.

“That’s what I thought,” Teneo said. “You seem awake enough to me.”

Teneo stood up, mechanical wings falling behind him like a cloak. He walked to a door a few feet away from Tommy’s bed and opened it. The room was medium in size but it was claustrophobic when four other people walked in.

One was Clepta, the thieving hero who stole powers. Another was, unsurprisingly, his brother Brutum, the shapeshifting hero. But there were two others, one of which Tommy had seen out on the field. A healer, Limus, who also acted as a backup fighter in worst case scenarios. The fourth was some rando.

None of them were masked, which was a little insulting. What if Tommy escaped and they were chasing him maskless? That would be embarrassing for them.

“We’ll start with the mask. Then we need you to take your suit off, because our blades couldn’t cut through it,” Teneo said. “I’m assuming you’re wearing underclothes.”

Tommy would snort, but his mask didn’t grant him that ability. He was wearing clothes underneath, but maybe if he claimed he wasn’t they wouldn’t make him take it off.

Teneo came back to Tommy’s side, which is when Tommy registered that they were about to try and remove the mask. The mask that was very much so fastened into his skin, melded with his flesh, and part of his body.

“Wait—wait you can’t—”

Tommy leaned away, pulling on the leather, tilting his chin away from the hero before him. Teneo put one hand on the back of Tommy’s head to keep him in place, and he reached for the metal jutting out of Tommy’s skin.

Obviously they didn’t look that close.

Teneo paused, fingers touching the metal. He slid a thumb over the section that turned from flesh to metal.

“It doesn’t come off,” Tommy spat.

Teneo still gave it an experimental tug, making Tommy grunt in pain. The wound was still raw. It would always be raw.

Teneo looked back at Limus and the other person. “You didn’t notice this?”

“We’re not allowed to examine the face,” Limus said. “May I?”

“Of course.”

Limus came forward, taking Teneo’s place. Nervously, Tommy let them look. If they knew he wasn’t lying they wouldn’t pull on it. God, please stop pulling on it.

Limus ran his finger over the same spot Teneo did, over Tommy’s cheek where skin ended and metal started.

“That’s what the scent was,” Brutum said. “When I was a dragon. I could smell the wound.”

“Freak,” Tommy mumbled.

“You have a mask built into you?” Limus asked, just to make sure.

“Yep.”

“It wasn’t always like that,” Teneo noted. “Charlie, is it something worth looking into more?”

Limus lifted Tommy’s chin to look at the underside of the metal. Tommy’s throat wasn’t metal, that at least was nice.

“Yes. It is. He’ll need more time here before going to Pandora,” Limus—Charlie, apparently, decided. “When did you have this done?”

The question was framed like Tommy had gone into an operation knowing what he’d come out with. But no, he was strapped down and fashioned into a cyborg. Scrap metal, rammed into his face. And it’s not coming out…

Tommy glared.

Limus’ eyes caught on the side of Tommy’s head. His temple. Limus traced a hand over the wires under Tommy’s skin.

“Jesus,” Limus whispered. “Doesn’t this hurt?”

Like little electrocutions every time he ‘spoke’.

“Die.”

“These wires are sending signals from his brain to his mask, which is a speaker. This isn’t even his real voice,” Limus explained. “Why would you do this to yourself?”

“I’m married to the grind.”

“Your face is rotting.”

Tommy balled his fists and angrily tugged on the straps again. The heroes in the room looked disturbed, some more than others. It was almost sympathy, but since they thought it was his choice, it was more so disgust.

“Your mum is rotting.”

Limus let go of Tommy’s face and turned to the other random person. “Will you go request an extension and talk to Sam?”

They nodded and left the room to get whatever that was and see whoever Sam was.

“We’ll have to look into that, and you’ll have to be honest about how you got it, they might require we remove it before you go to Pandora,” Limus said, like that was possible.

Again, Tommy wished he could scoff.

“Yeah, okay,” he said instead.

“Is it replacing your mouth?” Limus asked, deadly serious.

Tommy cringed. It wasn’t, but that was threatened. “No. My mouth is there.”

“That’s good news. How do you eat?”

Tommy cringed harder, this time not able to hide it from the heroes. Eating wasn’t pleasant. Because he didn’t really eat anything. It was… it was complicated.

With a hard frown, Limus took a clipboard off the end of Tommy’s bed. He read it for a minute and looked up at Tommy, then at the heroes around them.

“You are severely malnourished. Did you consider the issue of eating before you had this operation done?”

Oh Tommy thought about it. He thought about never being able to eat again. He couldn’t taste sugar, couldn’t drink coke, couldn’t have cake or curry. He thought about it so much before and after it happened.

“Did… did you choose this?” Clepta asked, sort of from behind everyone. When everyone looked confusedly at him, the hero reiterated. “Did you want that mask?”

Limus and Teneo’s heads snapped back over to him, desperately waiting for his answer. And like before, he wasn’t about to admit that this was a punishment. He wasn’t about to harvest sympathy from his enemies.

“Yep. It’s my brand now.”

“So you’re an idiot?” Brutum asked. “That’s it? You just… didn’t think about the eating part and now you’re going to starve to death.”

“Yeah yeah I’m gonna die, so, like, no reason to put me in prison right?” Tommy raised his eyebrows a few times.

“I’ll have an IV set up and we’ll get Sam in here to look into removing the mask.”

Tommy, as much as he wanted the mask off, knew that it was going to hurt like hell and fuck up his face.

“You can’t take it off,” he groaned. “It’ll probably kill me.”

“Why did you do this,” Teneo asked, almost pleading. “Mate, what was the benefit?”

If he could, Tommy would purse his lips. He settled for rolling his eyes.

“Don’t you have more important questions to ask?”

Teneo sighed. “Yes, if you cooperate it should go by quickly.”

Limus passed Teneo another clipboard with a pen attached to it on a string. Teneo wrote a few things down, and while he was doing so, Tommy noticed Clepta and Brutum whispering to each other. They were making eye contact with him while they did it. Shamelessly gossiping while staring right at him.

“Alright,” Teneo said. “What’s your real name?”

“Mike.”

Teneo wrote it down. “Last name?”

“Oxlong.”

Teneo gave him an unimpressed look, tucked the pen into the clip, and set it on the counter behind him.

“Guess we’re doing this the fun way. Limus, will you take over the paper for me?”

“Of course.”

Teneo rubbed his hands together and rolled his shoulders as he approached Tommy. “It’s been a while since I’ve had to do this.”

“... do what?”

“Ready?” Teneo asked. The question was aimed at everyone in the room other than Tommy.

“Go ahead,” Limus said. “Don’t push yourself.”

Teneo’s fingers landed on Tommy’s temples, just above where the wires ended. Tommy knew that Teneo had the ability to enter others’ bodies, however he didn’t actually expect the man to try.

Teneo’s fingers glowed and Tommy’s eyes were forced shut. He thought about struggling, but suddenly he wasn’t thinking much at all.

Hiya, mate.

Get out of here.

Tommy felt his body twitching.

You’re in a lot of pain, Atra. Why didn’t you say something?

Tell my enemies I’m hurt? Like you care.

We don’t want you to suffer.

Tommy tried to pull on his restraints, he was telling his body to move, but it would not obey. He stayed limp, controlled.

Atra, what’s your real name?

I’m not telling you.

Say it outloud.

“Tommy Innes.”

Distantly Tommy heard Limus scribbling the name down.

Stop. Get out of my body, bastard.

“He needs painkillers,” Teneo said from Tommy’s mouth.

“On it,” Limus replied. “I’m giving the paper to Clepta.”

Alright, Atra, now tell me your age please.

Guess, prick. I’m not saying shit.

Say it.

“I’m sixteen.”

What?

Shit.

You’re sixteen?

Shit.

“Did… did you say sixteen?” Clepta asked, voice hoarse.

“He did,” Teneo answered.

Tommy’s breathing quickened for a moment before Teneo forced him to take deep breaths. Teneo was in complete control of his body, which meant he could breathe, he could feel the tears coming and stop them, and he could tell how much pain Tommy was in.

Tommy, do you have family?

Why did he switch to Tommy’s real name? That was so weird. It was wrong. They didn’t know him personally. That name was a secret. Not just anybody could use his name.

Teneo made him take a deep, long breath.

Do you have family?

No.

Why did he answer that? He didn’t have to answer that. Tommy wasn’t thinking straight. He couldn’t move and he couldn’t think and everything was spilling out. He was being undercovered and strung up like underwear on a clothesline.

Did someone force you into that mask?

Stop it.

It’s alright, we’ll help you. Did someone put that on you?

Tommy’s eyes stung like his tears were bleach. Maybe it would corrode his metal face. Maybe it would fall off and he could breathe more deeply. Maybe it would kill him.

Tommy, say it out loud, did someone force you into that mask?

“Someone else put this mask on me.”

The silence became terrifying. Suddenly Tommy wanted Teneo to keep talking, to make him do something. Because Tommy’s eyes were closed and he couldn’t see anyone’s reactions. He couldn’t move himself. He couldn’t shuffle uncomfortably. He couldn’t laugh to diffuse anything.

Teneo?

He was alone in the dark.

I’m here mate…

Is that all you needed to know?

… No, there’s a lot we need to know. But I don’t want to keep doing this to you. Will you answer us if I let you go?

Tommy just wanted him out.

I will.

Okay, well, I can tell that you don’t mean that but I’ll let you go anyway.

The pressure on Tommy’s temple lifted and his eye shot open. He instinctively tried to curl into himself but he couldn’t, laid out flat by the restraints. He glanced wildly around the room at the heroes.

They were all staring at him. Clepta’s eyes were watery. Brutum’s mouth hung open, his eyebrows drawn together. Limus covered his mouth with a tight fist. And Teneo, when Tommy looked at him, was just looking down at him sadly.

“The procedures for this,” Teneo started slowly, “are complicated. We’re going to need a lot of accommodations. This is a good time to take advantage of Clause 999.”

“I agree,” Limus said. “It’ll have to be someone well-matched with Atra’s power.”

Teneo nodded. “I’ll choose someone. For now, Wilbur, can you request a space for Tommy?”

“Yeah,” Clepta said, short, stiff. “‘Course.”

He left the room.

“I want Sam to look at this mask as soon as possible. Tomorrow at the latest. He should be put on a hero-level recovery system.”

Limus nodded and furiously scribbled into a notebook. “Should we do a bracelet or an under-skin?”

Teneo observed Tommy, who tried not to look too scared, and sighed. “Bracelet for now.”

“What’s happening?” Tommy asked. He didn’t mean to whisper but his mask understood him that way.

Teneo turned fully to Tommy and leaned against the safety bar on the bed. “You’re not going to Pandora anymore. You’ll be put on a rehabilitation focused recovery period instead of an imprisonment.”

Tommy’s jaw wanted to slacken but it was held up by the metal. “And I’ll stay…?”

“Here. For a little while. Then when we find a suitable guardian for you, you’ll move in with them.”

Tommy blinked. “A guardian?”

“Mhm. A hero if possible. We’ll take care of you.”

Tommy shook his head. “No. No you don’t just get to switch up like—like you weren’t just sending me to Pandora minutes ago and trying to pull my mask off.”

“We didn’t know you were a kid.”

“Why does that change anything? I—I killed people you know.”

Teneo winced. “That’s true. That’s… yeah that will be taken into account. But you’re far too young, there’s still a lot of potential for you.”

Tommy shook his head harder. “No, no I’m a fucking villain. I’m—Brutum crushed me into the pavement not long ago. You can’t act like I’m just some kid.”

“You’re right. You’re not ‘just some kid’ and there wil be precautions and strict measures taken to guarantee the safety of the city and the safety of whoever will be looking after you.”

That is not what Tommy wanted to hear. He didn’t know why this was striking him so hard. It was too odd. They wanted him in prison. They had him shackled. They chased him down and they’d hurt him and fought him before. They didn’t get to just treat him like a kid after all of that.

“I’m not fucking living with a hero.”

“You don’t have a choice. Even if you wanted to, for some reason, go to Pandora instead, it would break our protocol.”

“This has happened before?” Tommy asked doubtfully.

“We have had one rehabilitated villain that was caught under the age of twenty. Yes.”

“Who?”

“That’s private information, but maybe after a while you two could meet and talk. It would do you both some good I imagine.”

Tommy wished he could cross his arms. If not to convey his displeasure, to shield himself from the pity, concern, and sympathy.

He was Atra. He was feared by heroes and civilians. He was respected by villains. He was unpredictable and wild. He was a jack of all trades and a great escapist.

Tommy was not meant to be under the care of another person. Especially not a hero.

“Let’s move onto some easier questions so we can put together a medical account and figure out which hero would suit you best.”

Limus raised a hand to interrupt. “Yes, we should do that, however, we need you to take the suit off so we can reassess your injuries. It was hard to heal you without being able to examine you.”

“No. No fucking way.”

Teneo tilted his head in a warning.

“No. I can’t.”

They would see it all. It would reveal his power. He couldn’t. No way.

“Why not?” Teneo asked, voice laced with worry.

They were probably all expecting more mechanical monstrosities. Maybe a metal heart poking out. Metal tubing for veins.

“I just can’t.”

Teneo looked at Limus, and Limus looked at Teneo. The conversation was loud despite there wordless.

Then Limus shook his head, and Tommy wasn't exactly sure what that meant.

“Sorry mate,” Teneo said. “This isn’t optional. You can either do it yourself, or I’m gonna have to take control again.”

Brutum approached and reached into a pocket under the bed. Tommy watched him bring up two long and thin white pieces of fabric.

“It’s pants and a shirt. You’ll be well-covered if that’s your worry,” Brutum said.

Not covered enough, Tommy thought.

“Do you have long sleeves?” he asked, knowing either way they’d see what he didn’t want them to.

Brutum looked to Limus for the answer.

“I can get you a long sleeved shirt,” Limus said easily.

Quietly, Tommy agreed, “Okay.”

Teneo smiled and Limus put down his notes to retrieve one of the long sleeved shirts. Brutum folded up the t-shirt and put it back in the pocket under the bed.

“There’s a room you can change in there,” Teneo said, pointing to a door Tommy hadn’t noticed before. “Your powers won’t work in there, so you can go in alone.”

Ah. There goes that escape plan. Maybe he could fight his way out of here before he stepped into the room.

“Not that it matters,” Brutum said, reading Tommy’s mind, “The bracelet on your wrist is a power suppressant.”

“Die.”

Limus came back swiftly with a long sleeved t-shirt. His hands wouldn’t be covered. But he couldn’t prevent them from seeing forever. They would know. And he couldn’t stop them. It was terrifying. Only one person actually knew how Tommy’s power worked.

Now the whole hero organization was going to know.

God.

Oh god.

“Hey,” Teneo stepped closer, hands hovering near, “It’s alright. Whatever you’re worried about us seeing won’t change the fact that you’re safe here. You’re not going to Pandora.”

Tommy hated the way they spoke to him now. He needed them to remember who he was. He was Atra. Atra, not Tommy. Not to them.

“Just get these straps off already.”

Teneo nodded and started with Tommy’s legs. Brutum helped and Limus went back to writing things down.

Brutum undid Tommy’s wrist and moved to the strap on his arm. When his arm was out, Tommy tried to pull it away but Brutum caught it.

“Don’t try anything,” the hero warned.

Teneo started undoing the last strap, but Brutum was still holding him. And when the last strap was off, Teneo held his arm too. Together, they guided him into sitting. He was going to protest and say he didn’t need any help. Until he got up. And. Wow…

“Tommy?”

Tommy stared blankly down at his knees, waiting out the rolling pain, trying to fight back the vomit. He slackened exhaustedly, startling the heroes who both put forward a hand to stabilize him.

“You might just have to change here, mate. We won’t look, I promise.”

Tommy shook his head. “I’m good. I can stand.”

He swung his legs over the bed gently and Brutum let his arm go. Teneo took it instead, guiding Tommy down to the ground, and holding him as he stood. Once the spinning stopped, Tommy tried to tug his hands away.

“Let go.”

“Okay,” Teneo said softly, “Take it easy. Here are the clothes.”

Tommy took the white clothes in his hands. They looked soft. He was almost (almost) excited to put them on and feel something this new. This clean. This comfortable.

He started toward the changing room and tested his powers, just to see, but as expected nothing came out. No fire from his fingertips. No electricity. And he couldn’t get his wings out. Damn.

He passed Limus and Brutum and opened the door. Everything stung when he moved or breathed, or even blinked. But it felt a little more worth it when he had a moment alone in that little room. There was a bench, a shower, a toilet, and a sink.

He took his time changing.

Tommy started with the pants. They fit well. Then he put on the shirt.

You could see everything. The fabric was so thin that it all showed. And Tommy had to fight back more tears. And sobs. And bile.

“Tommy?” Limus, asked. “Are you alright?”

“Fuck off.”

“You have to come out eventually. I want to get you back in bed.”

“Die die die.”

Tommy heard some low speaking and didn’t bother to try and listen. He looked himself over in the mirror. He didn’t want them to see him like this.

Someone else walked into the room. Because that’s what he needed. More of an audience.

Tommy raked a hand through his hair, and breathed harshly.

“Mate?”

“Just—just shut up for a minute,” Tommy snapped. “Fuck off.”

He leaned tiredly against the door and continued to look at himself in the mirror above the sink. He looked bad. Tired and beat up. And that mask was ugly. It was the truth. It wasn’t cool like he pretended it was. The mask was ugly and it hurt and he wanted it gone.

If Tommy could bite his tongue he’d do it to stop himself from crying.

One tear slipped and he urgently wiped it away. He took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling. Then, he clenched his eyes shut, breathed again, and shook his head out. He gave himself another few seconds to recompose.

He hoped it wasn’t too obvious that he was falling apart.

Tommy turned the door handle. He hesitated. He opened it.

The door swung open and Tommy stood in its frame. Exposed. Shaky. Scrutinized. Teneo was the closest. His jaw fell open. Limus’ eyes widened. Brutum poked his head into view and his expression didn’t really change.

But Clepta was back, and he looked struck by sudden realization.

“Tattoos,” Teneo said.

“Yep. That’s uh, that’s what they are,” Tommy mumbled.

They covered Tommy’s body. His right hand was decorated in black flames. His left was made to look withered. Above the withering was lacey electric patterns. Above the fire was a sword running up his inner forearm.

“Shirts are thin…” Tommy said, rubbing his hands together.

“Uh—come get back on the bed,” Limus said, at least trying not to seem shocked. “I’m gonna do a few basic check-ups and then a few more complicated ones.”

Tommy took a reluctant step forward, and another past Teneo. On his way to the bed one of his knees buckled. He caught himself on the foot of the bed but Clepta’s hands caught his sides.

He tried to be gentle, but the hands brushed his cracked ribs. Tommy winced and made a short, stiff sound.

“Sorry,” Clepta whispered. “Take it slow.”

Tommy shrugged away from the hero and managed to, painfully, get himself back onto the bed. He leaned heavily back into the pillows with closed eyes.

“So your powers come from tattoos,” Teneo said. “Were you born with these tattoos or did you choose which ones you wanted?”

Should he answer that? He didn’t want to be cooperative. But they could just force him.

“Was born with the words ‘trahes et habebis’ on my wrist. Means ‘you will draw and you will have’. So I got tattoos to see what they would do and… and they definitely did stuff.”

Tommy should have been trying harder to be difficult. But he was tired. They were going to get it out of him. He wasn’t being a pushover was he?

“You must have quite the pain tolerance,” Clepta said, sounding more sad than impressed.

“A dragon stood on me. I can take anything at this point.”

“Hey,” Brutum warned, “I was gentle.”

“You stood on me.”

“I picked you up and put you on a gurney!”

“After you crushed me like a pancake!”

Brutum clicked his mouth shut. “Oops.”

“Fucking oops?”

“Boys,” Teneo sighed. “What’s going to happen next, is that we’ll let Charlie do his examinations and get you situated with an IV and vital tracker—”

“Uh, no?”

“—then when it’s safe we’ll get someone assigned to you. Hopefully you can get some rest when Charlie’s done.”

“Yes, they’re prioritizing Tommy’s case,” Clepta said. “Something will be officially decided tonight.”

“Perfect. Techno, will you stay and help Charlie? I need Wilbur’s help with some preparations.”

Brutum nodded and Clepta seemed confused.

Teneo turned back to Tommy with a smile. “Rest up.”

**********

Tommy was moved into a section of the tower reserved for heroes in recovery. They all had their own homes but sometimes needed secure places to stay while they got over illnesses, injuries, and other complications.

He was sitting on one side of the couch, and Teneo—who insisted Tommy call him Phil—on the other side. Apparently Tommy’s “guardian” would be here soon. Though he wasn’t going to accept this fate. It was going to be a living hell for whichever unlucky bastard got tasked with keeping an eye on Atra.

“If you’re worried, just know that there is no one more patient or caring in the world,” Teneo said.

“Don’t give a shit.”

The hero blew out a long breath. “Don’t make this harder on yourself. You should take this luxury with open arms. There was a cell being prepared for you in Pandora.”

“I’d get out.”

“I think it’ll surprise you, what having someone looking after you feels like.”

“Nope.”

“Well, get ready to start resisting, because I can hear him coming down the hall.”

Footsteps, purposefully loud so they knew someone was coming. Tommy unintentionally sat straighter, watching the door with furrowed brows.

They opened the door and stepped in.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Tommy asked Clepta.

The hero grinned.

Tommy blinked. “No…”

“Yes.”

“No. No fucking way—no.”

“Tommy,” Teneo sighed, “Wilbur is an excellent match for you.”

“I’ll kill myself.”

“Hey,” Teneo warned. “Don’t joke about that.”

“I’ll kill him.”

Teneo gave him a disappointed, stern look. “These are your arrangements. They are non-negotiable. The sooner you work with us, the sooner you can relax.”

Teneo stood up as Clepta closed the door and came forward.

“I’ll give you the run down of how this all works and what comes next,” Clepta said.

“I’ll give you a funeral.”

Clepta snorted.

Teneo smacked his arm, “Don’t encourage him.”

Clepta shrugged and patted Teneo’s shoulder. “We’ll be fine. Go ahead, I’ll keep you updated.”

Teneo looked at Tommy once more before turning with a nod to Clepta and leaving the room.

Clepta looked slowly over at Tommy, opened his mouth to speak, and Tommy interrupted.

“No. I don’t care. Shut up. Shut up. I’m not doing this.”

Clepta gave him a sad smile. “Well, I’m going to talk at you and you don’t have to answer but I think you’ll want to hear some of this.”

Tommy let his head fall back against the couch. Clepta sat where Teneo had been sitting.

“First of all, I want you to call me Wilbur. You don’t have to, but we’re living together now—”

“Die.”

“—so I want you to know me, not just Clepta.”

“Your hero name sounds like an STD.”

Clepta paused. Processed. Then cackled. Which, okay? He was supposed to find it insulting but it was nice to know that Tommy still had his humorous charm.

“Oh, that’s good,” Clepta said, voice high. “But listen, I’m not here to imprison you. I’m just gonna make sure you’re healthy and not out wreaking havoc on the city.”

“I am literally imprisoned.”

Clepta tilted his head from side to side. “Yeah, I mean, only I can open the doors from inside. But you’re free to do whatever you want within this space. We have books and games and snacks.”

“Internet?”

“... No.”

“Die.”

“Why do you like that word so much?”

“S’ catchy.”

Clepta raised an eyebrow. “Right. So, listen, Sam, the guy Charlie had look at your mask last night, he gave me a rundown on what they can do.”

Tommy’s heart clenched, his stomach seized. “Yeah?”

Clepta’s gaze softened. “Yeah. He thinks he can remove it if you answer a few more specific questions about it.”

Remove it.

The mask.

It could be gone.

Tommy shook his head slowly, disbelieving. “It doesn’t come off.”

“It could. Sam says he can do it. He just needs your cooperation and consent.”

“No,” Tommy said firmly. It was a lie. It would kill him. It would—it coudln’t—Schlatt would end him. “Not happening.”

“You don’t want it off?”

Tommy was a lot of things. Thief, assassin, villain, demolition-man, and more. But he usually wasn’t a liar.

“I don’t want it off.”

Clepta scooted a bit closer, making Tommy turn toward him warily.

“I don’t think that’s true,” The hero said.

“Nobody’s touching it.”

The hero nodded. But he wasn’t really agreeing. “You need time. And you have it, I promise.”

“No. No this isn’t one of those moments where I know better deep down—this isn’t some villain cliche. I want this. I like this.”

The words were so sour Tommy almost physically shriveled on himself.

With a sigh, Clepta relented, “Maybe we’ll circle back to that sometime. Let’s talk about your rehabilitation.”

**********

Living with Clepta wasn’t bad. It wasn’t really good either. There was very little privacy in Tommy’s life now, and a lot of uncomfortable discussions. About his powers, about who he worked with, and about his upbringing. He didn’t answer a lot of thing but other times Clepta pushed just enough.

“I’m my own person you know,” Tommy hissed. “I make my own decisions.”

“I’m sure that’s true, but you can’t convince me that nobody ever made you do things you didn’t want to.”

The mask situation is definitely what he was thinking.

Tommy shrugged. “I work for someone, sometimes your boss asks you to do shit you don’t wanna do.”

“What did you do that you didn’t want to?”

Tommy scowled. “Nunya.”

“Don’t start with this, come on, what did Atra do that Tommy didn’t want to?”

“You’re not gonna get the answer you want.”

“That’s alright.”

“The assassinations were me. That was all me.”

Clepta frowned. “Really?”

“That was a solo mission. I’m not sorry and I’m proud of it.”

Clepta nodded solemnly. “What about other things? Team missions, infiltrations, thievery?”

Tommy shrugged again, “Everything I did was under orders basically, I just didn’t care that much.”

“Did you get paid?”

Tommy cringed. “Yeah.”

“Liar.”

“Okay, so I didn’t get paid, but my housing was taken care of and my food. So. Win.”

They were sitting together on the couch. Tommy had an IV hanging out of his arm and Clepta was eating scrambled eggs for lunch.

“Did you work with or for that group of villains you were with when we caught you.”

“With.”

“So someone else sent you all out?”

Tommy inclined his head, the smallest nod he could muster. He even hoped maybe Clepta wouldn’t notice it.

“Would you tell me who?”

Tommy laughed. “No.”

“You’re not going back to them, whoever it was. I think it’s pretty obvious that you don’t like your boss.”

It wasn’t obvious…

“He was a prick.”

“Was he the one who put the mask on you?”

Tommy stood up from the couch, shaking his head, exasperated and annoyed. What he didn’t expect, was for Clepta to stand with him. Clepta stepped into his way and reached his hands out, not touching, but wanting to.

“If we know who did it we can find out more about it and how to remove it.”

Tommy wanted it gone more than anything.

“I’m not a snitch.”

“Whose respect are you trying to keep? Who are you worried about thinking you’re a snitch? Your boss? That we’re just going to stick in prison?”

Tommy stepped back with a grimace.

Clepta continued, “You’re not worried aout other villains thinking you’re a snitch, right? Because they’ll just know not to cross you.”

Damn this hero and his smart fucking mouth.

“I’m not gonna be your tool in finding a villain boss. I’m not a hero.”

“Don’t you want him to be taken down?”

More than anything.

“Not by you.”

Clepta’s hands fell away when he stopped talking. Then one came back up and touched Tommy’s shoulder. When Tommy didn’t slap it away, it landed more firmly.

“You wanted to do it yourself, didn’t you?”

The touch was unfamiliar and very new. The only hand that Tommy could remember landing on his shoulder was Schlatt’s. And it left a bruise after.

“I’m going to do it myself.”

“Why not make a bunch of heroes do your dirty work for you?”

“You know that’s not what would be happening.”

Was he leaning into the touch? He didn’t mean to. Did Clepta notice? It was just so warm against his sore muscles.

“You’re going to have to come to terms with the fact the you’re not a villain anymore.”

“You haven’t fixed me yet, prick.”

Tommy pushed past Clepta and stomped off to his room. His room. He didn’t share. It was a nice bed. There was a window—locked and reinforced—and shelves. Clepta offered to let Tommy do some online shopping to decorate. Tommy refused.

He felt the tug of the IV on his arm, cursed under his breath, and turned back to grab the IV pole to roll it with him.

“We’re gonna do a check-up in two hours,” Clepta said.

“That’s what you think,” Tommy answered before slamming his door.

**********

A few days later Clepta knocked on his door. Tommy assumed it was for another check-up. Tommy didn't answer, he never did.

“We’re coming in,” Clepta said.

We?

Clepta led Teneo and Sam, the tower’s mechanic, into his room. Tommy sat up slowly. He tried not to look tense but he knew now what this conversation was going to be.

“Hi mate, we’ve got some good news.”

They could get the mask off.

“I’m confident that I can remove your mask,” Sam said. “After you let me look at it before, and a bit of research and testing, I know how I can remove it safely.”

Please. God, please.

“Will it hurt?” he found himself asking.

He shouldn’t care. He never cared about pain before. He’d been getting tattoos since he was eight. He was crushed by a dragon. He would be fine.

“Maybe after the operation,” Sam said regretfully. “But you won’t be awake for it.”

“... I won’t?”

Sam blanched. “No—God, no. That would be… were you awake when it was put on?”

Tommy didn’t have a lot of time to decide whether a truthful answer would be better for him or not. But, it would seem, that his silence spoke volumes.

“Christ,” Teneo hissed. “No, you’ll be under anesthesia and we’ll have all sorts of painkillers for you.”

Tommy nodded. “Will it scar?”

It didn’t matter. He wanted it off anyway.

Sam nodded hesitantly. “Probably.”

“But that’s alright,” Clepta said quickly. “There’s nothing wrong with having scars. That mask needs to come off.”

He wanted it off so badly, but…

“You don’t get to decide what I need,” Tommy said lowly. “Don’t act like this is some favour you’re doing me.”

“It’s not a favour, it’s a necessity. It’s going to start making you sick,” Clepta explained. “If you want to live, it has to come off.”

And since Tommy figured no sane person would keep refusing after that, he agreed. Because he really really wanted this thing off.

“When are we doing it?” he asked.

“I need a day to prepare and after that it’s up to you,” Sam said.

“You’ve had that mask on for months,” Clepta said gently, “if you need some extra time we can wait a few days.”

Tommy shook his head. “I want to get it over with.”

Clepta nodded. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

“Otherwise, how are your injuries?” Teneo asked.

“Fine.”

Teneo looked to Clepta for confirmation. And Clepta did not confirm. Instead, he said the exact opposite of what Tommy needed him to say.

“He’s still in a lot of pain, it’s hard to move, and he’s not resting too well.” Teneo looked at Tommy, unimpressed but not surprised. “He’s kept the IV in, it’s just in his way a lot.”

Teneo hummed. “You two should make a grocery list.”

Clepta clapped his hands together, “That’s a great idea, Phil.”

Tommy didn’t know what he’d request. Probably not much. Maybe some milk. He hadn’t had milk in a while. And coke, of course. The only flavour of pop he’d ever tried.

Sam came forward and held out a piece of paper to Tommy. “This is just some information I wrote up about the operation, what it’ll feel like, and how to take care of yourself after it. Since you told me that there was metal lodged in your mouth, we’ll have to do some dental care too.”

Tommy’s teeth were clenched shut by metal. It always tasted like blood in his mouth. He read briefly over the paper and paused.

“I will not need help eating.”

Sam frowned apologetically, “You certainly will at first, but not for more than a few days.”

“No—what? It’s not like I can’t lift my arms.”

“You won’t be able to feel your facial muscles for a while, so you won’t be able to tell if your mouth is open, or if there’s even food in it.”

“So I’ll sit in front of a mirror.”

“Tommy,” Clepta sighed, “It’s going to be too hard. You could choke. I’ll help you.”

Tommy crumpled the paper in his hand and tossed it at Clepta’s face. The hero swatted it away.

“Fuck that. Leave the mask in,” Tommy said.

He didn’t mean it. Not at all. God, please don’t leave it in.

“We’re not doing that. You know how this goes, you can cooperate, or Phil will make you cooperate.”

Tommy sat back against the pillows, saying nothing.

Clepta looked back at the other heroes. “Did you need anything else?”

Teneo shook his head and after a minute of pondering, so did Sam. Clepta ushered them out of Tommy’s room and closed the door. But he was still standing inside the room.

“What do you want?”

“Just wanted to ask how you were doing.”

“I think you fucking know how I’m doing.”

Clepta, for some reason, took that as in invitation to come sit on Tommy’s bed. Tommy glared at him the whole way, but Clepta still sat on the edge of the mattress.

“I do know. But I was hoping you’d tell me more.”

“No.”

“When we get that mask off, you’ll be able to eat again. And brush your teeth. You won’t have to lug that IV pole around.” Clepta smiled. “It’ll be good. We’ll hear your real voice.”

Tommy rolled his eyes.

“After the mask is off and we see that you’re stable without it, we can get out of this tower.”

That piqued Tommy’s interest. “Yeah?”

“Mhm. We’ll go to my apartment.”

Were they stupid? It would be infinitely easy for Tommy to escape an apartment. In comparison to this tower? This was fantastic news.

“You’ll still have your own room but there’s a bit less space. It’ll be nicer though.”

“And this bracelet?” Tommy asked, gesturing to his power suppressor.

It was impossible to get off. Tommy had tried many times. Once it resulted in him creating a ring of broken skin around his wrist, which Clepta hadn’t been too happy about.

“Tommy, you have to be careful with yourself. You can’t afford any more infections,” Clepta said, disinfecting Tommy’s wrist.

And he wasn’t angry. He didn’t just hand Tommy the supplies to fix it himself.

“Speaking of which,” Clepta raised a hand to Tommy’s forehead and pressed it softly against his skin. “The IV isn’t helping like we hoped it would…”

Clepta’s hand came away. Tommy, shamefully, missed the feeling.

“That bracelet has to stay on. Limus said when you were better we could think about removing some of your tattoos instead of having you wear that all the time but… but I didn’t think you’d want that so I said no.”

“Oh…”

Tommy probably would have broken down sobbing if he’d woken up one day without his tattoos. Or if they took them off before shoving him into Pandora. He might have jumped into the prison’s lava.

“But that won’t happen, not unless you want it to.”

Tommy shook his head. “I’m keeping them.”

Except… maybe one.

“What?” Clepta asked. “There’s something you wanna say.”

“There’s one that I think… uh when the mask comes off I want it gone.”

Clepta blinked. Then he tilted his head, expression slowly falling into concern. And that wasn’t Tommy’s goal at all. He just needed it gone. He didn’t need Clepta to worry more.

“What is it?” the hero asked.

Reluctantly, Tommy lifted his shirt to expose his stomach. There was a large black X, filled in, scratchy and patchy, they symbolically crossed out his stomach. In each inner corner of the X there was a word written in Latin: fame.

“It’s the one that keeps me from needing to eat to stay alive. I was surprised it worked.”

Clepta’s face twisted into something sad, disgusted, and angry. Tommy knew it wasn’t aimed at him. But he almost wished it was. He couldn’t get used to heroes worrying about him—and not in the way that they feared him. It wasn’t right.

“That will definitely come off if you want it to. As soon as Limus says it’s okay, I’ll have it arranged.”

Tommy nodded. “Tha—”

He was not going to say thank you.

Clepta smiled smugly. “Don’t think I didn’t hear that.”

Tommy crossed his arms and stared at Clepta, waiting for him to leave. But he didn’t. And Tommy kept waiting. And Clepta still didn’t leave.

“Now what do you want?” Tommy finally asked.

“We should do something. You must be getting bored.”

Tommy hesitated for an awkwardly long time. “Like what?”

Clepta’s whole face lit up like Tommy just agreed to be his best friend. “We could watch a movie. Or a TV show?”

Tommy shrugged. “I don’t know many.”

“Do you want to browse? Or is there one you want to see again? Maybe from your childhood?”

Prick.

“Do you have Up?”

Clepta nodded eagerly. “Of course I have up. What kind of uncultured peasant do you think I am?”

Tommy smiled—with his eyes—and didn’t really mean to. “We should watch up.”

So they watched up.

It wasn’t that late, but between the exhausting conversations with heroes, his unhealed injuries, and his worsening sickness, Tommy found himself in a tense battle with sleep. The soldiers were falling one eyelid after the other. They fought hard and long. But Clepta noticed.

“You can lie down, Tommy. You need rest.”

“It’s Up time, not sleep time.”

“I think it might actually be sleep time though.”

“No.”

Tommy stayed sitting. Plus, if he lay down, his head would be touching Clepta’s leg, and that was way too domestic for their relationship. Tommy hated that fucker.

But the couch wasn’t the right height to lay his head back against. It didn’t sit right. He was just a bit too tall. Or the couch was short. Whatever. He couldn’t lay his head back and that meant that he was going to fall sideways.

He could rest against the armrest but the armrest was tall and he’d have to crane his neck sideways. And he was not leaning toward Clepta. Never. At all. Ever.

So he stayed sitting even longer. And while his eyes were closed, the couch dipped next to him, like someone had sat down or moved closer. Tommy blinked an eye open and wasn’t surprised to see Clepta right next to him.

Bastard.

“Go away,” Tommy mumbled.

“It’s a better view from here.”

“You moved like three inches.”

“Those three inches made a difference.”

Tommy laughed. “That’s—that’s what she said, innit?”

Clepta laughed. Hard. And Tommy found himself joining in sleepily. It was more of a grin with a few huffs—because his mask didn’t really let him laugh. He just looked like a TV character laughing with the volume down.

Clepta’s laugh was very distinct, Tommy had noticed. It was high, and the same almost every time. It sounded like someone saying “ha”, it wasn’t just wheezing or chuckling. Tommy thought it was a good laugh.

“Shut it, Up is still on.”

Clepta wasn’t watching Up though, he was watching Tommy. And usually, Tommy would have made a comment about that. Instead, just this time, he closed his eyes again and listened to the movie.

**********

“He fell asleep on me last night,” Wilbur told them.

Phil looked up first. And then Techno after the sentence truly reached his ears. They looked at each other, then back at Wilbur.

“It’s true! He got tired and I just… scooched a little closer and when he started to fall I maybe gave him a little tug in my direction.”

Phil smiled fondly at Wilbur from across the table. “I knew you two would be a good match.”

“I didn’t,” Techno said, taking a long sip of coffee. “Thought he’d kill you. Your sweetness is smothering.”

“Well,” Wilbur scoffed. “It would seem that a little bit of love was all he needed.”

“Gross.”

“It’s what you needed. Remember that? Phil finding you? And who was the first one to gain your trust? Me. It was me and my hugs.”

Phil laughed and Techno ignored the comments in favour of savouring his coffee.

Changing the subject, Wilbur sighed. “I’m worried about the operation though. If it doesn’t go well he’s not gonna trust us—or he won’t let me help him. It could set all of this progress so far back.”

Phil nodded. “I’m worried too, but not about the operation going wrong. Sam can do it. He’s the most impressive mechanic a I know, and he was a surgeon for a few years, remember?”

“I know.”

“And Tommy wants the mask off, so he’ll cooperate.”

“Yeah but after. When it’s off. He won’t—he doesn’t like help, Phil. He doesn’t like being vulnerable, he’d rather we fear him than love him.”

Phil reached out to take one of Wilbur’s hands. “That’s what part of this rehabilitation process is, making him see that being feared isn’t as nice as being loved. And I know for a fact that you can explain this to him better than anyone.”

Wilbur groaned. “Maybe he’s gonna rehabilitate me. Maybe I’ll become a villain again. Ever think of that?’

Amusedly Phil patted the side of Wilbur’s face. “I’m not at all worried about that.”

“Phil,” Wilbur whined.

“Oh come on, go see your kid and tell him it’s almost time.”

Wilbur smiled softly.

My kid.

**********

“Feeling ready?” Clepta asked.

Tommy flinched in surprise, sitting up in his bed. He’d left his door open this time, and Clepta must have been standing there for a minute before he noticed. Tommy had been staring blankly up at the ceiling, it probably looked pathetic.

“Is it already time?” Tommy asked.

He shouldn’t be nervous. This was good progress. He’d considered that they were lying to him, that they were going to put him to sleep and then send him to Pandora. But he logically stumbled his way out of that line of thought.

As weird as it was and as much as he hated it, there was truth when Clepta said he cared. Tommy knew the heroes were good people. At least, these ones were.

“Soon. We can go up when you’re ready, but it doesn’t have to be right now.” Clepta took a final step into the room. “Nervous?”

“No,” Tommy lied. “Just not looking forward to you trying to spoon-feed me.”

Clepta snorted. “It won’t be that bad. You can drink from a straw, I just have to make sure you don’t choke and die.”

“You know the heimlick?”

Clepta shrugged. “Can’t be that hard.”

Tommy feigned fear and widened his eyes. “This is all a ploy to kill me.”

“Hey,” Clepta half-heartedly warned, “I know you’re joking, but don’t get into that kind of thinking.”

Tommy squinted. It was not the reaction he was hoping for.

“But seriously, what are you worried about?” Clepta asked, sitting, again, on the edge of Tommy’s bed.

He did it naturally, casually, like it was an instinct. What if Tommy kicked him off? How would he react?

Tommy shrugged. “I think I feel like everyone does before they get surgery.”

“Are you worried about the scars?”

Tommy hummed. His hums sounded weird with his teeth clamped shut. “Not really. I mean if it’s gonna be hard to assimilate into the civilian world when everyone sees them.”

Would they know who he was?

Tommy noticed an odd look on Clepta’s face. A mixture of proud and satisfied.

“What?” Tommy asked.

“Nothing. But your identity will stay secret, nobody’s going to know what the scars are from. You won’t get odd looks because you were a villain.”

Tommy nodded slowly. “How long will the surgery be?”

Clepta cringed. “It’ll be long. Hours. But you won’t be awake for even a second of it, and the second you wake up when it’s over, I’ll be there.”

“I don’t give a shit,” Tommy blurted. “I don’t need you there. Die.”

He stood, tousled his hair, and walked past Clepta out the door. After a second of stunned silence, Clepta followed him. Tommy went to the kitchenette, not entirely sure what to do with himself now.

“Can we go?” he asked.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Clepta asked reluctantly.

Tommy thought. Then, “Let me piss first.”

**********

“I’m just going to get you to lie down on this table,” Sam said.

Tommy heard him loud and clear but he stood still anyway. This table, at least, was cushioned. These lights, at least, weren’t flickering. And these surgeons, at least, were real surgeons.

And mechanics.

“Tommy?” Clepta asked, barely touching his shoulder.

“Sorry, what?” he croaked, pretending he hadn’t heard his instructions.

Sam spoke softly, “I need you to lie down on this bed for me. Nothing will start until you’re ready, and I’ll explain everything as I do it.”

Tommy didn’t answer. Not even with a nod. He walked to the table, touched it, and turned around to pull himself onto it. Once sitting, he glanced at Clepta.

“You said he needed some more paperwork, right?” Clepta asked.

After a second of silence, Sam agreed. “Yes. Yep, something short. I’ll go get the for you now.”

When Sam left, Clepta stood in front of Tommy, who was still sitting rigidly on the bed.

“Sam has a good team. He’s made and dismantled all sorts of mechanical prostethics. I know for a fact that he’s going to do a perfect job,” Clepta said.

“Mhm.”

Tommy looked down at Clepta’s shoes instead of at his face. It probably looked childish. But he didn’t want to focus on eye contact or making his face expressions seem normal. Not that he had much face to express with.

For now.

Clepta’s hand landed on his left shoulder, which made it even harder to look up at the man. Then, when Tommy didn’t look up, Clepta tilted his chin up with gentle fingers.

“I know I can’t take your fear away. But this is going to happen at your pace. Not mine, not Sam’s. You don’t even have to do it today if you don’t want to.”

“I need it gone,” Tommy whispered.

“It will be. I promise, it’s gonna be so far gone you’ll forget you ever had it.”

They both knew that wasn’t true, but Tommy got the sentiment. He pulled his chin out of Clepta’s hand and shrugged his shoulder out of the hold.

“Stop being weird.”

Clepta huffed, amused, still concerned. “What can I get or do that’ll make you feel better right now?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing at all? A weighted blanket? Or a light one? Something to hold onto?”

“You can shut the fuck up.”

The door to their little surgery room opened. It wasn’t a very official surgery room, which made Tommy nervous. But hey, better than the last one.

Sam walked in, empty handed, but he was followed in by Limus and some other random lady.

“Can’t find the paperwork,” Sam said—which is when Tommy realized that there really was no paperwork, “But the rest of the team is here for whenever you’re ready.”

This was too much pressure. He couldn’t tell them when he was ready. He never knew when he was ready for things, they kind of just happened to him. Whether he liked it or not, whether he was prepared or not.

“Okay,” Tommy said, trying to sound neutral. “I’m ready.”

“Alright,” Sam said, voice quiet, “go ahead and lie down. I’ll explain what’s happening.”

Clepta stepped back just to give Tommy enough room to swing his legs up onto the bed. He lay back and his breath caught in his throat. But he wasn’t strapped down this time. The room wasn’t moldy concrete this time.

He almost sat right back up.

Almost.

“First thing we’re going to do after I’m done explaining is put you to sleep. Since I can’t use gas over your mask, I have to use a needle. Is that okay?”

Tommy had had millions of mini-needles etching ink into his flesh, he could handle one slightly bigger one.

He nodded.

“Alright. The needle will go into your arm, right in the crook of your elbow. You’ll fall asleep in less than three seconds. Then I’m going to clean the area where the metal meets your skin.”

Tommy forced down the trembling. A skill he’d learned years ago.

“Once it’s all clean and you’re fast asleep, I’m going to saw through the metal that’s jutting out in front of your mouth. Then I’ll take some of it off chunk by chunk so it’s easier to access the edges where it melds into skin.”

Tommy’s chest was starting to hurt, but he ignored it. He couldn’t stop them now. He needed this thing gone.

“When the edges are accessible, I’ll separate the metal from the skin as precisely and closely as possible.”

Tommy breathed deeply. “You’re going to cut it?”

“Yes. I’m going to use the smallest, thinnest tool I have.”

Tommy clenched his eyes shut. Then realized people were watching him. And he opened them again. “Okay.”

“By the way you described it to me, I should be able to slide the metal out from between your teeth. If not, Niki here,” he gestured to the random woman, “has the ability to manipulate metal. She’s going to help me with this operation.”

“Niki is one of my best friends,” Clepta started, “I’d trust her to remove a bullet from my heart.”

Tommy didn’t respond but he at least liked knowing that it wasn’t some completely strange metal-bender they pulled off the streets. It meant a little more than nothing that Clepta trusted her.

“When the operation is all done we’re going to move you to another hospital room where we can keep an eye on you. Charlie is going to heal the skin I cut, so there will be no scars from that, and we’ll start treating the infection the mask has given you.”

Just the scars from when it was poorly put in. He’d have scars on his cheekbones. Over his nose. And probably at the corners of his mouth.

“Does that all sound alright?”

No. None of it sounded ‘alright’. It all sounded pretty fucking terrible, actually.

Tommy nodded.

“Alright, do you have any questions? Do you need some more time?”

Tommy shook his head. He turned it slightly to find Clepta’s gaze. Their eyes met and Clepta softened. He mouthed the words ‘I’m here’. So Tommy looked away because ew.

But not really…

“Okay. I’m just going to clean off your arm, then I’ll send you to sleep,” Sam said.

Tommy nodded again without thinking. He didn’t quite catch that last sentence. He hoped it wasn’t important. Because he was a little too focused on breathing. Yeah. In through the nose—and also out through the nose. His mask filtered the air in through little slits in the side.

It was usually hard to breathe.

But now it was impossible. He tried to be discrete, he tried not to let his chest move too much.

But he could hear them rustling around, clinking tools together, putting on rubber gloves. He could hear it all and it was familiar in a pungent way. But he didn’t hear any straps being pulled. He didn’t hear any caniving, low, disappointed voices.

“You doing okay, Tommy?” Sam asked.

Tommy nodded, again, not thinking too hard about whatever was just said to him. He just needed them to get on with it. Once he was out he’d wake up and it would all be over. He’d be good. They just needed to hurry the fuck up.

“Okay, I’m going to touch your arm now,” Sam said.

He did, and Tommy flinched. He forced himself straight again, and with annoying hesitance, Sam cleaned Tommy’s arm with a wipe.

When he stopped, Tommy clenched his eyes shut again despite knowing they were all watching.

He couldn’t breathe.

Some muffled words brush Tommy’s ears but he doesn’t strain to decipher them.

Then a hand held his arm. It didn’t just touch. It held on. Held down. And Tommy couldn’t stop himself from vaulting off the table.

Tommy landed on his feet and stumbled backward. Away. Away from anything that made a sound or moved—not that he could see much through the blurr. His back hit the wall, and then his head followed after.

He thought about sliding down and huddling up in a ball, but his instinct was to keep his hands up and search wildly until he found whatever it was that tried to trap him.

God, were they going to strap him down? So he couldn’t move?

“Tommy,” someone said.

It was Sam. He knew that. He wasn’t unaware of his situation, but he needed—well he didn’t really know what he needed.

But Sam was reaching out.

“Get away from him,” someone hissed.

And suddenly Sam’s hand retracted.

“Wilbur,” Niki warned.

“Sorry, sorry, just—can you guys leave us?”

“Of course,” Sam said. “Take your time.”

Tommy blinked and blinked until his eyes were tired and the mist cleared. He saw everyone leaving the room. Everyone but Clepta, who stood a reasonable distance away. Not reaching out, but hands raised to show they were empty.

“God,” Tommy cursed. “Jesus—sorry…”

He covered his eyes with a hand for a second. When he lowered it, Clepta still hadn’t come any closer.

“It’s okay. Can I come to you?”

“Yeah.”

Tommy slumped against the wall, leaning his head back, trying to hide his flushed cheeks. That was the single most embarrassing thing he’d ever done.

“Wanna sit down?”

“Not on there.”

“The floor’s clean.”

Tommy looked down at the ground and ungracefully slid down. Clepta’s eyes widened and he jumped forward a little bit, but when Tommy caught himself at the bottom the hero backed off.

Clepta sat in front of Tommy as he leaned back into the wall.

“The second I saw him hold your arm like that I cringed,” Clepta said. “I’m sorry, we just didn’t think of it.”

“You couldn’t have known.”

Clepta hummed. “Can you take some deep breaths?”

“Die. Die—actually die.”

He was trying to take some deep breaths but the stupid mask he was wearing—that was supppsoed to be coming off right now—was stopping him.

“Don’t be embarrassed. This is the furthest thing from embarrassing, Tommy.”

“That’s just bullshit.”

“You had a trauma response. You’re not allowed to be embarrassed, because… because I said so.”

Tommy pulled his knees up to circle his arms around them. Then he leaned his head foward. “You don’t have any authority over me.”

“That’s a plain lie.” Clepta snorted. “Do you still want to do this today?”

Tommy looked up and rubbed a hand down his face. “Yeah. Yeah I’m good now. Let’s get this show on the road… or something.”

“Hm. You need a minute.”

“No I don’t.”

Clepta smiled sadly, “You do. It’s okay. We have time.”

Tommy tiredly tucked his head into his knees again. “I don’t want to wait.”

But they did. They waited for a while so Tommy could catch his breath and Clepta decided when it was alright to proceed. Tommy sat back on the table while Clepta went to get the others.

They came back in, Sam in particular looking especially apologetic.

“It’s okay,” Tommy said before anyone else could. “It’s not your fault, I wasn’t really listening.”

Sam frowned. “I should have made sure you heard me.”

Tommy shrugged. “I’m ready for it this time so let’s… let’s just do it already.”

He laid back down and caught Sam looking at Clepta expectantly. Then, Sam ordered everyone back to work. They went through the same process of putting on gloves and reorganizing themselves. Then Sam cleaned Tommy’s arm off with a wipe.

“I’m going to hold your arm now,” Sam said.

“Okay,” Tommy answered, trying not to tense.

Everyone always said that needles were worse when you tensed up. But the needle went in easy and Sam was done before Tommy could cringe.

“We’ll see you soon,” Clepta said. “I’ll be right there.”

Tommy didn’t have the strength or the consciousness to nod.

**********

Tommy woke with tears in his eyes and a gasp caught in his throat. He lurched upward and slid himself back into pillows. Something tugged at the skin of his arm. In the background, a beeping sound grew faster and louder.

It wasn’t gone.

“Tommy,” Clepta said, softly, soothingly. “It’s alright. The operation’s done. You’re okay.”

“Is it gone?”

“It’s gone.”

But ti wasn’t. It was still there. He saw it. Just a second ago he looked and Clepta apologized and he—

Tommy shook his head harshly. “I can’t feel it—I can’t fell anything—please don’t lie—”

Logically, Tommy knew that he could just look down at his nose and see if it was gone for himself. Two gentle hands brushed over his upper arms.

“I’m not lying. It’s gone, breathe. You can breathe through your mouth now.”

He tried.

“I don’t remember how—”

It wasn’t working. He couldn’t feel anything. He couldn’t feel his mouth or his face but it didn’t taste like metal—it didn’t taste like anything.

“Yes you do,” Clepta said, lowly, quietly. “You just can’t feel it right now. It’s okay, the mask is gone.”

“No, no,” Tommy choked. It was just there.

Gingerly, kind hands touched his cheeks. The more firmly, solid, warm palms held his face.

“It’s gone. I think you’re just a little confused from a dream.”

Tommy tilted his head forward, further into the hands supporting him. He couldn’t feel much, but he could feel enough. He could feel the warmth, and just under his eyes—where Clepta was brushing his thumbs—he could feel that.

Tommy took a deep breath from his mouth. His lungs expanded, gleefully taking everything in in a way that he couldn’t for months. Months of losing air. Slowly suffocating.

“Feel that?” Wilbur asked.

Though, Tommy wasn’t sure whether he was asking about the air in his lungs or the hands on his face.

“Wilbur,” Tommy choked. “It’s gone.”

Wilbur smiled, wide and teary, “So far gone. Destroyed. Dismembered. The gonest.”

The next step was the tattoo. Then it would be really gone. All of the bad parts of Atra would be gone. And he could—well he couldn’t become Atra again at all, could he? But that didn’t have to be the end of the world if Tommy didn’t want it to be.

“You have an IV in again,” Wilbur said, hesitantly letting Tommy’s face go. “But you won’t have that for long so let’s see how drinking some water goes, hm?”

“Wait,” Tommy sputtered. “Can you do that again?”

Wilbur blinked, and his hands twitched back forward. “This?” he asked, sliding his hands up to hold Tommy’s face again.

“Mhm.” Tommy could let himself have this one. He didn’t need to be the biggest alpha male all the time. Even big manly men deserved breaks, right? “Helps.”

“Okay,” Wilbur whispered. “Water can wait.”

Chapter Text

“Tommy, I am not letting you go without eating for a whole three days.”

“I’m not letting you feed me!” Tommy snarled, shoving past Wilbur. “Blend it, or something. I’ll drink it.”

“You can not drink chicken.”

“Then make me soup, prick.”

Wilbur sighed. “You’re going to drink soup from a straw?”

Tommy clapped his hands together twice. “Get to it or I’m going to starve.” Then he slammed the door to his room and lay face-down on the bed.

Wilbur became so frustrating after the operation. He was endlessly worried and he hovered a lot. He checked in on Tommy every two hours, always asking if there was any pain and if Tommy was feeling okay. Once he even plastered his palm over Tommy’s forehead to check for a fever.

Tommy had avoided eating for the first day after the operation by saying he felt too sick. Wilbur let it slide, still trying to get him to eat anything simple. He made soft spaghetti, soups, smoothies—and Tommy had none of it. He claimed that the textures were too gross for him anyway.

Which is why Wilbur switched to chicken and pulled pork. But to eat that Tommy “needed to be supervised”.

Thus, Tommy demanded that Wilbur turn back to the soup and give him a straw. But he wasn’t going to eat if Wilbur insisted on watching him.

Soon enough Wilbur knocked on Tommy’s door, received no answer, and came in anyway with soup.

And a spoon.

“No,” Tommy spat.

“Tommy,” Wilbur sighed. “You can not drink soup through a straw—it’s too hot.”

“I’ll let it cool.”

“You could still choke. This is safer.”

“No.”

Wilbur set the soup on Tommy’s bedside table and sat on the edge of the bed. Tommy had sat up and scooched back into the headboard. He curled his knees up and crossed his arms.

“You can’t live off an IV for that long. It’s not healthy,” Wilbur tried.

“Don’t care.”

“There are lots of people who need help eating.”

“And I’m not one of them.”

Wilbur looked at him sadly, sympathetically, like he always does. He had explained various times that it wasn’t pity, but Tommy was pretty sure that sympathy was just a nicer synonym for it.

“Okay, you can drink with a straw but you have to let me sit with you while you do it.”

“No.”

“That is the only deal you’re getting.”

“Unfortunate.”

“Deal?”

“No.”

Wilbur watched Tommy while he thought. The stress on his face was hitting Tommy like a bus but Wilbur would get over it. He’d be fine.

“It won’t kill me while I have this tattoo,” Tommy mumbled, finally looking away.

“Doesn’t work when you’re powers are turned off,” Wilbur reminded, gesturing to the bracelet. “And even if it did, it’ll make you sick and weak.”

“Only for three days.”

“You can not justify starvation.”

“I definitely can though.”

Wilbur reached for Tommy’s shoulder and Tommy almost decided to pull away.

“You can not justify starvation. Especially not when you’re here with me, I won’t let that slide.”

Tommy rolled his eyes and looked over at the soup on the bedside table. “You’re going to have to make an exception then.”

“No,” Wilbur said sternly. “You’re being unreasonable, you know you are. I’m only going to sit here, I won’t help you, I won’t watch you. I’ll just be here on my phone until you’re done.”

“If I let you sit here you have to promise to stop hovering so much.”

Wilbur smiled and squeezed Tommy’s shoulder. “Fine. Deal struck, now eat.”

Wilbur picked the bowl off the bedside table and held it out for Tommy to take. Then he got up to retrieve a straw. Tommy was somewhat tempted to pour the bowl out on the floor but at that point, Wilbur might just hold him down and force-feed him.

Tommy cringed at the idea. Would he? Should Tommy find out? It was important to know what Wibur’s limits were if he was going to survive here.

But Wilbur walked back in and stuck the straw in Tommy’s bowl. Then he rounded the bed and sat next to Tommy. Nonchalantly, he pulled out his phone and started reading.

“What’s that?” Tommy asked.

Wilbur snorted. “Fanfiction.”

Tommy blinked. “What?”

“Yeah, yeah, someone wrote this story about who would win in a fight, me versus Techno.”

Tommy sputtered an incredulous laugh. “Well, who’s winning?”

“Techno,” Wilbur grumbled, “but I think I’m going to make a comeback.”

Tommy hummed and took the first drink of his soup. It was good, he could taste it, he just couldn’t feel his cheeks. It was weird. This—this was the first time he’d eaten anything since before the mask.

“Do you want me to read it to you?” Wilbur asked.

“Well yeah, I want to hear about Techno beating your ass.”

**********

When Tommy got the feeling back in his face the first thing he did was cup his own cheeks. Then he put on a hoodie and tightened the strings. Later, he squished his face into a pillow. That night he washed his face twice, once with cold water and once with hot water—it was nice.

He ate easily. Wilbur made him a lot more food than he could usually finish and saved it all for if Tommy got hungry later. Because he was allowed to get food from the kitchen whenever he wanted to.

One night he got hungry again. Hungry enough for it to be bothering him, otherwise he wouldn’t have so much as looked at the fridge. But Wilbur made a really good dip and Tommy hadn’t been able to stop thinking about getting seconds.

He peeked out of his room and saw that Wilbur’s door was closed. He faintly heard a guitar playing on the other side. Tommy stepped out and strode toward the kitchen. Quietly, he pulled the dish of dip out of the fridge and retrieved the bag of chips.

Wilbur said it was fine. So it was fine. He didn’t have to hide it.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t be quiet just in case.

Scooping the dip into his bowl was easy. Opening the chip bag and pouring some out was harder. Tommy considered taking it all to his room to do. But Wilbur told him to eat whenever he wanted to. Why would Wilbur lie?

This was a good way to see how honest he was being. This was Tommy testing some limits.

So he decided to forgo being quiet and he opened the chips naturally. The sound stressed him out but he poured the chips into his bowl and he waited for a second.

To his horror, the guitar strumming stopped.

Tommy began quickly putting the chips away, ready to be caught anyway. He waited more and sure enough, Wilbur’s door opened.

Tommy tensed and turned to see him.

“Oh, good,” Wilbur said, “you definitely didn’t eat enough earlier.”

Tommy blinked.

“The microwave is pretty bad. Every ten seconds is more like five so just nuke it for longer than you think you need to.”

“Okay…”

Wilbur smiled and opened the fridge. He picked out a glass from the cupboard and poured himself some water.

He turned to Tommy again, “Want some?”

“Uh, no thanks.”

Wilbur nodded and put the water filter away. He took a sip and looked calmly at Tommy. He raised an eyebrow.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. You’re just ugly,” Tommy said, opening the microwave.

Wilbur sputtered, “What’d I do to deserve that?”

Tommy shrugged and set the time. The bowl of dip spun and he watched it until it stopped. Unfortunately, Wilbur was still there when he took it out.

“I was thinking tomorrow we make a grocery list so Phil can deliver them to my apartment. Then it’ll all be ready for us when we get there the next day,” Wilbur said.

“Okay.”

Did he only come to the kitchen to talk to Tommy? Was this a subtle hoverbur moment?

“Do you want to come give me an opinion on some songs I’m writing?”

“Uh,” suddenly, Tommy didn’t want to be mean. “I don’t know?”

“You can just sit and listen, or do your own thing. I like an audience.”

Why was Wilbur so eager to just be together.

“No thanks,” Tommy said. “Gonna eat then go to sleep.”

Wilbur nodded. “Alright, God knows you need it.”

And Wilbur walked away. So Tommy walked away. And he ate. And instead of going to sleep he sat by his door with it cracked open an inch to hear the guitar playing from the other side of the kitchen and living space. He couldn’t hear it well but if he could it would be nice, he was sure.

When he got sore from sitting against the wall he went to bed.

He woke up later with a scream.

Wilbur definitely heard it. Tommy wiped furiously at his eyes—and his hand brushed the cold metal mask on his face. He screamed again and clawed his hands at his own cheeks. He knew it was gone but—he could feel it.

Tommy clawed and slapped, pinched, and pulled at his cheeks and chin trying to convince himself that it wasn’t there anymore but it was cold and hard and it smelled like metal again—like blood and rotting flesh—

Wilbur was pulling Tommy’s hands away. He had turned on the bedside lamp. His hands were warm.

But Tommy’s metal face was cold and he needed to get it off again he needed—

Wilbur slid his hands over Tommy’s cheeks and held his warm palms there. Tommy’s thoughts fell quiet. Wilbur stroked his thumbs over Tommy’s face.

Tommy leaned forward with a pathetic cry.

“It’s okay,” Wilbur whispered. “Feel that? Not metal.”

“I know,” Tommy breathed. “I know that—why did I…?”

Wilbur shrugged, keeping his hands on Tommy’s face. “Maybe it’s like phantom pains.”

“Phantom trauma,” Tommy mumbled, closing his eyes.

“At least you’re acknowledging it,” Wilbur murmured. “Deep breaths. Want me to wait with you while you fall back asleep?”

“No.”

“It’s no problem. I could even get my guitar—”

“Leave,” Tommy said with a final sigh and a small push.

Wilbur pulled away. “Okay, but call for me or come get me if you need me.”

Wilbur left and Tommy collapsed in a pile of embarrassment and exhaustion.

**********

Tommy got nightmares a lot. The next time it happened, he woke up with a soundless, rasping scream. The gasp he took when he sat up had his chest caving in. He clawed at his throat and collar, trying to will the air into his lungs. All it did was dry his mouth.

Tommy frantically looked around the room, he whined at the pain and the cold sweat coating him. Wilbur wasn’t here. Where did Wilbur go? Schlatt wasn’t here—where did he take Wilbur?

Tommy stood and wobbled into a side table.

“Wil?” he wheezed.

He was seeing his bedroom, technically, but that’s not where his mind was. Distantly, he realized that something was wrong. He was confused. But Wilbur was gone—and the screaming had stopped. Was Wilbur dead? Did he pass out from the pain like Tommy had?

Tears dripped down his face—his metalless face—and that drew another rough sob out. He doubled over himself and gripped the bedsheets.

He didn’t help Wilbur.

Tommy straightened again, deliriously tripping toward the door, where a crack of light shone through the bottom.

He rammed himself into the wood and tumbled out into the hallway.

Again, he was seeing Wilbur’s apartment, they had just moved to it. But he wasn’t all that awake right now.

He shook his head with a blink and fell into the wall. He stumbled down the hall with gasps and whines. He reached Wilbur’s room—still somehow sure that he was in Schlatt’s complex—and he launched the door open.

Wilbur jolted awake with a start and Tommy almost collapsed in relief seeing him. Tommy leaned into the doorframe with an exhausted sigh and nodded, seeing Wilbur safe and sound.

“Tommy?”

“Are you okay?” Tommy asked through heavy breaths.

Wilbur blinked and flicked the covers off his legs. “Yeah? Sorry… was I yelling?”

Tommy shook his head—then registered those words. “Do you usually?”

Wilbur walked towards him. “Rarely. What happened—are you okay?”

Tommy's heart was loud in his ears, he felt it in his stomach—he might throw up. He let his chin fall and watched the ground with clenched eyes.

“Hey, hey,” Wilbur soothed, one hand holding Tommy’s shoulder, the other lifting his face. “What’s going on?”

Tommy stared at Wilbur’s face, having to make sure—having to see that he was okay and he would stay okay—and that the scene wouldn’t flicker any second now.

“Come sit down,” Wilbur said, tugging Tommy by the shoulder.

Tommy slumped forward and Wilbur caught him with a soft gasp. Tommy wrapped hesitant arms around his back and Wilbur froze.

“You’re really okay?” Tommy asked.

Wilbur rubbed Tommy’s back. “I’m okay. I need to know why you’re asking…”

Tommy grumbled, “Just a dream.”

Wilbur tugged on him again and they went to sit down, closing the door and flicking on a warm bedside lamp.

“A dream about me?”

Tommy nodded, rubbing his eyes.

Wilbur rolled a drawer open and pulled out a box of pills and a water bottle. Tommy raised an eyebrow.

“For headaches and sleep,” Wilbur said, “started keeping them within reach in case I needed to run to you.”

“... oh.”

Wilbur held the water out and Tommy took it gratefully. Wilbur passed him a headache pill and set a sleeping one to the side. Then he sat down next to Tommy against the headboard.

“Can you tell me about it?”

Tommy stared dejectedly down at his water. “I might vomit if I try to tell you about it.”

“Jesus,” Wilbur whispered, looping an arm around Tommy and pulling him in. “Just answer one question?”

“What?”

“Did I hurt you in the dream?”

Tommy shook his head immediately. In fact, it was the other way around.

“No I, um, I hurt you,” Tommy admitted.

“Oh, well, it was a dream. I’m not afraid of you hurting me,” Wilbur nudged Tommy’s water. “Do you feel better seeing that I’m okay?”

Tommy nodded and took a sip. Then his lip wobbled and he bit it, slightly horrified at himself. His eyes stung again.

“But it wasn’t like really a dream—I mean it was but I would have… I’d…”

“Hey, you’re freaking out again,” Wilbur rubbed his arm, “breathe and you can tell it to me slowly.”

Tommy groaned in frustration and lolled his head onto Wilbur’s shoulder.

Would he be angry, once Tommy told him the truth?

“You and I got kidnapped,” Tommy started shakily. “By my boss.”

“Right,” Wilbur nodded, leaning his head back over Tommy’s.

Tommy’s racing mind stuttered for a moment.

“Uh, he had me tied to a pipe coming out of the wall. And you were strapped to a metal table like—” like I had been. “A metal table, with people standing around you.”

“Okay,” Wilbur said, unease leaking into his voice.

“Schlatt brought a new mask out.” Tommy breathed. “And said he was gonna put it on you.”

Shocked, Wilbur stayed silent. But When Tommy kept going, his hug grew firmer.

“Unless I asked him to put it back on me.”

“Oh—Tommy,” Wilbur whispered, angry on Tommy’s behalf.

“And I didn’t do it,” Tommy choked. “I didn’t do it and he kept telling me that I could make it stop—and you were just screaming.”

Tommy had discarded the water, leaving Wilbur free to turn and wrap his second arm around Tommy. Which was shocking.

“It was only a dream, Tommy.”

“I know but,” Tommy made a wounded, guttural sound, “but I know that in that situation I wouldn’t. And I’m sorry—I’m sorry—”

“No! No, oh man, Tommy, you—” Wilbur took a deep breath. Then he pulled Tommy over on top of him and lay back. “I wouldn’t expect you to. You shouldn’t have. It was right not to, okay? I promise.”

Tommy, desperately trying to ignore the fact that he was lying in Wilbur’s lap now, made an uncertain sound.

“I mean it. If it’s not enough that I just wouldn’t want you to, think about it like this,” Wilbur touched Tommy’s hair, waiting for a reaction—which he didn’t get. “I’m a little stronger and healthier than you, I’d handle it better. We already knew how to get them off and I knew what to expect. And, I’ve been tortured before, I was trained for that kind of thing.”

“But you were in pain, and I could have stopped it.”

“I don’t want you to be in pain for me. Ever. It’s not selfish to preserve yourself. You being the one on that table wouldn’t have gotten us any closer to escape, would it?”

Tommy wilted. “Stop it with that logic bullshit.”

Wilbur played with his hair and laughed, relieved. “You understand though, right?”

“Still feels wrong.”

“I get it. I’d feel guilty for letting Techno get hurt if I could have stopped it, but he’d tell me all the same things. And… I wasn’t going to say it, but you are just young.”

“Die die die.”

“And because you’re still young, you’ve got a whole brain to develop. No room for extra trauma, you can barely handle social interaction.”

“You’re bullying me.”

Wilbur chuckled tiredly. “Think you can sleep?”

Tommy’s turn to chuckle. “I’ll manage.”

Wilbur reached for the sleeping pill and held it up to Tommy’s face. Tommy relented and took it with an awkward sip of water, still in Wilbur’s arms. When he was finished and about to get up, Wilbur pulled him back down.

“Uh—I should go back to bed.”

“Mhm.” Wilbur closed his eyes.

“Wil?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m not fucking cuddling you all night.”

Wilbur’s hand slipped back into Tommy’s hair.

…

“Whatever,” Tommy mumbled.

**********

“Hey,” Wilbur said nervously, standing in Tommy’s half-open doorway. “Today’s a check-up day.”

“No.”

“Tommy.”

“No. No, not going.”

“It’s mandatory. The more you cooperate, the faster you can be officially rehabilitated.”

“Nope. Fuck that. What do they even need to check? I can take my own temperature. And God knows you make me eat twice my body weight in a day.”

Wilbur, despite being amused, stayed stern. “We’re going. This one is a more in-depth one.”

Tommy groaned and rolled onto his stomach, face stuffed into his pillow.

“We need to see what kinds of things could have been missed during your—well your whole life. They’re gonna do heart tests, allergy and intolerance tests, and they’re going to make sure your lungs are okay.”

“They’re fine.”

“There will be no needles. They’re going to do a few scratch tests, and they’ll take a tiny prick of blood from your ear for the intolerances. That’s all.”

“No.”

“You don’t have to talk at all. I’ll handle everything, you just need to be there.”

“I hate the tower.”

“I won’t let anyone near you, it’ll just be Charlie… and maybe Phil and Techno will come say hi.”

“That is three people.”

“Three people that care about you a lot.”

“Bullshit.”

Wilbur’s hands landed on Tommy’s ribs and he shrieked. Then, Tommy was promptly lifted off the bed and carried limply under Wilbur’s arm—like a basketball but floppy.

“How are you this strong?”

“I won’t even make you get dressed,” Wilbur said, ignoring him and walking into the hall.

“Put me down.”

Wilbur made it to the front door and dropped Tommy next to his shoes.

“We can get something to eat after. Your choice. Maybe that curry place you like?”

Wilbur began putting his shoes on.

“Your bribery means nothing to me,” Tommy spat, sitting up.

“I’ll tell Phil I can see a grey hair.”

“As funny as that would be, it’s still not enough.”

**********

Tommy lay on the examination table with his arms crossed, glaring up at the ceiling while Wilbur and Charlie talked.

“Dental hygiene was better than we expected, still looks like everything’s fine,” Charlie was saying. “Honestly, everything was better than we expected it to be, but there were a few things that we hadn’t considered.”

At that, Tommy turned his head. Charlie noticed him and turned their conversation to include him—before now, Tommy had been very clear that he didn’t give half a pebble of shit.

“When we did that stress test on the treadmill I did an EKG,” Charlie said and Tommy nodded, now sitting up. “In simplest terms, your heart didn't beat regularly.”

Wilbur tilted his head in alarm and concentration. “Arrhythmia?”

“Yes. It’s pretty minor, nothing to be too worried about for now. But it’s also not that common in youth or young adults which makes me believe it came from long-term stress and anxiety.”

Tommy blinked and shook his head. “What’s arrhythmia?”

“For you, it means that your heart beats too quickly. Not only when you’re under physical stress—like on the treadmill—but sometimes when you’re resting too.”

“And is that a big issue?”

Charlie hummed, “It could turn into one if we ignore it. But you don’t have it too bad from what I can tell, usually, medication can help.”

“So is it dangerous for him to get anxious?” Wilbur asked.

Tommy’s mind flashed back to the nightmares he’d had these past few weeks.

“I wouldn’t say dangerous at this stage, but it certainly wouldn’t hurt to avoid stress as much as possible.”

Wilbur nodded. “Uh, so, I was going to ask about nightmares. He’s been having a lot, I thought it could be something like I have?”

Tommy scowled at Wilbur. Nobody needed to know Tommy had nightmares. That was personal shit. What was next? He’d tell Charlie Tommy was waking up screaming and vomiting?

Wait, what did Wilbur have?

“Oh,” Charlie said. “Well, what have you noticed? What happens when he wakes up?”

Wilbur looked over at Tommy as if asking him to explain it himself. To which Tommy glared further and ground his teeth.

“He wakes up screaming once or twice a week. A few times its been so bad that he’ll vomit, he gets confused and doesn’t realize he’s woken up sometimes.”

Charlie frowned, “That does sound like parasomnia. Again, probably from trauma.” Charlie glanced over at Tommy. “Are the nightmares generally about the same sort of things?”

Tommy nodded.

“Right. Well, we can look into medications but like I told you, they can have some less-than-desirable side effects. I’d like you to start by seeing the sleep clinic,” Charlie said, flipping a page on his clipboard, “I’ll write him a referral to Venus.”

“Who?” Tommy asked. “I’m so sick of doctors.”

Wilbur smiled sympathetically. “Venus is a therapist who specializes in problems with sleep and relaxation.”

Tommy groaned and lay back on the bed with crossed arms.

Charlie finished writing a few things and flipped back to the first page.

Wilbur asked, “You noticed some other things too, right?”

“Yes,” Charlie said, “after seven months of less-than-sufficient oxygen intake,” Tommy rolled his eyes, “his lungs have weakened a little and he’s developed mild hypoxemia. But, as he’s under less stress and now breathing mostly properly, we expect this to be easily treated.”

“And treatment looks like…?” Wilbur prompted.

“Pulmonary rehabilitation, most likely. I can write another referral,” Charlie flipped the page again. “But, considering Tommy’s condition isn’t life-threatening, casual exercise to work on strengthening his lungs back up is a good route.”

“And what about issues with breathing through nightmares—what with the arrhythmia and all?”

Tommy had decided he was overwhelmed, so he closed his eyes and turned his head away, trying to tune everyone out.

Wilbur touched his shoulder.

“In the worst case scenarios, where you’re struggling to calm him down even after five minutes, I’d say invest in an O2 kit.”

“Okay… is there somewhere I can get training for that?’

“You certainly can, but I was thinking I’d train you. And I’d like Tommy to learn too in case he ever needs to do it himself.”

Wilbur shook his shoulder. “You okay?”

“I’m sleeping, go away.”

Wilbur snorted half-heartedly. “In case you haven’t noticed, he isn’t a big fan of doctors and therapists.”

“Right,” Charlie said with a fond tone, “you can take this at a slow pace, like I said, nothing here is life-threatening I don’t believe it’ll get any worse considering how careful you are. I’d just urge you to really try and get those nightmares under control, that’ll keep you safer and help the other issues we discussed too.”

Wilbur rubbed Tommy’s shoulder. “Is that everything?”

“Fortunately, yes. Don’t forget to take these papers, I’ll send more resources to you tonight.”

“Thanks, Charlie.”

**********

Tommy wasn’t breathing. He watched the TV and looked at the face of Schlatt. Well, his masked face. Wilbur was in his room, he had gone to get his guitar. he was going to teach Tommy how to play.

But Schlatt was on the TV.

“And Atra, my God, Atra, I hope you see this because it’s all the warning you get before I come for your ass.”

Tommy stood as the camera switched to where Schlatt and his goons were attacking the tower.

“Wil—” Tommy choked.

Wilbur opened the door so quickly that Tommy jumped. He saw the TV and pulled out his phone. As he was dialing a number, he made it to Tommy and pulled him in. He cupped the back of Tommy’s head with his free hand.

Tommy breathed shakily into Wilbur’s sweater.

“Phil?” Wilbur asked.

“It’s okay mate, we’re fine. Stay with Tommy.”

Part of Tommy desperately wanted to beg Wilbur to leave and catch Schlatt, God knows if anyone would it’d be Wilbur. The other part was glad he was staying.

“Tell me what you know,” Wilbur said.

“He came for Atra, he thought the kid was here. Now he knows he’s not.”

Tommy’s knees buckled in fear and Wilbur caught him around the waist, he lowered Tommy to the couch.

“Hold on, I’m switching to an earpiece,” Wilbur said, pulling said earpiece out of his pocket and putting it in. The piece lit up for a moment and the sound on the phone cut out. “I’ll be right back,” he told Tommy.

As he walked into Tommy’s room Wilbur answered to Phil, “That’s good news at least.”

Wilbur walked back out with a bag—the O2 kit—and suddenly Tommy was embarrassed by how little he was breathing, and the awful, pitiful gasps he was letting loose.

“It’s okay,” Wilbur whispered, assembling the oxygen tank. “Yeah, yeah, he’s fine. I’ll let him know what you told me. I’ll keep the earpiece in, keep me updated.”

Wilbur pulled out a small tube that would sit in Tommy’s nose and Tommy groaned, lolling his head back.

“Hey, doctor’s orders,” Wilbur said softly.

Tommy put it in and Wilbur let the oxygen flow through it. Tommy practiced the breathing exercises that Wilbur and Charlie showed him.

“What’d Phil tell you?” Tommy asked, trying to ignore how proud he was of himself for fixing his breathing so quickly.

“That Schlatt has no idea where you are and he’s been trying to get it out of the other heroes. But since only a few of us know and we’ve all been trained for torture, he’s not gonna get anywhere.”

Tommy shivered. “I can’t believe they trained you for that.”

Wilbur nodded solemnly. “It’s come in handy.”

Tommy blinked. “What—”

“I don’t know if you realized this, but we didn’t know that you worked for Schlatt. We didn’t know that he was the one who…”

“Masked me?”

“Yeah. That. We didn’t know until you accidentally spilled that funny little detail after one of your nightmares…”

Tommy threw himself back into memories, trying to come up with when he would have revealed that and not noticed.

“Uh, he had me tied to a pipe coming out of the wall. And you were strapped to a metal table like—a metal table, with people standing around you.”

“Okay,” Wilbur said, unease leaking into his voice.

“Schlatt brought a new mask out.” Tommy breathed. “And said he was gonna put it on you.”

Shocked, Wilbur stayed silent.

“Oh, fuck,” Tommy marvelled. “I didn’t—oh.”

“I like to think that you would have told me if I asked…”

Tommy reluctantly nodded.

Then he took a long, broken breath. “He’s not gonna find me, is he?”

“No,” Wilbur said. “I don’t see how he could. And if he did, I’d be there, okay? And I’ll fight him. And the second my tracker registers me as ‘fighting’, it’ll send a signal to Techno and Phil. And they’ll come too without hesitation.”

Tommy breathed. “That’s good to hear.”

Wilbur perked up at a notification in his ear. He clicked the earpiece.

“Techno?” he asked.

A pause.

“Just you, Phil, and Charlie. Oh, and Sam and Niki.”

A longer pause.

“I’ll do it now,” Wilbur said, voice suddenly desperate. “I’m going now.”

Tommy froze as he leapt up from where he knelt by Tommy and ran into his bedroom. Wilbur didn’t close the door but Tommy heard him booting up his computer.

“No, it’s okay, I wrote it all down in my notebook,” Wilbur said. “Yes, all of it—okay, yeah it took, like, seven hours but you’re glad I did it, aren’t you?”

Tommy thought about standing and going to Wilbur’s side because he felt a bit exposed being left alone. However, his legs were jelly.

“There. Done. Are we good?”

A long, much longer, intense, stressful pause.

“Thank fuck, oh my god find whoever that was or I swear to god—”

Wilbur walked quickly back to the couch and sa beside Tommy with an apologetic smile. He checked the pulse oximeter on Tommy’s finger and nodded.

“We could take this off but I want to keep it on until everything slows down.”

“You're not gonna tell me what that was?” Tommy asked.

Wilbur hummed. “Don’t want to freak you out.”

“Just saying that is freaking me out.”

Wilbur sighed. “Someone was downloading your medical files and it wasn’t Charlie. We don’t know who it could have been but it was someone online, they had to be inside the building somewhere.”

“So you, what? Deleted them all?”

“Yes.”

“... and you had the entirety of my medical information copied down by hand?”

Wilbur’s face suddenly dropped into something embarrassed, like he’d been caught snooping at Christmas presents.

“Maybe.”

“Jesus,” Tommy laughed through a whisper.

“Charlie has another copy on a USB that he keeps somewhere safe, but he accepts everything that I wrote down as official. You’re kind of a special case because we have to keep it all a secret.”

Tommy nodded, amused.

“So we’re good? Whoever it was got stopped?”

“Techno seems to think so. The hard part is figuring out if it was a mole, or if Schlatt hired some underground thief or something. You know of anyone?”

Tommy cringed. He definitely knew someone.

“Oh, god, who?” Wilbur asked.

“I don’t think he would…”

“Tommy, I’m so serious, who could Schlatt have contacted?”

“He probably doesn’t know that—he probably thinks he’s helping me.”

“If we can find this guy, we can find Schlatt.”

Tommy made an uneasy sound. “I don’t want him in trouble… he’s not a bad person.”

“Tommy.”

“I know him as Tubbo, but most people call him Rogue.”

Wilbur nodded and checked Tommy’s oxygen levels again. “Tell me what you know.”

“Is he going to get in trouble?”

Wilbur made an uneasy sound. “I can’t guarantee anything.”

Tommy saw that his oxygen levels were regular for now so he ripped off the pulse oximeter and started to take the nasal cannula out.

“Wait—hey,” Wilbur reached for his hands.

“No, it’s coming off. I’m fine,” Tommy pulled it all the way off and tossed it out of Wilbur’s reach.

Wilbur sat back defeatedly.

“Let me contact Tubbo. We left off on a good note, I know he’s not out to get me, which means Schlatt is tricking him. If it even is him.”

Wilbur relaxed a little. “Okay. How do you want to contact him?”

Tommy’s jaw dropped open.

Wilbur said okay? Wilbur was just fine with him contacting an old ally? This was okay? This was allowed?

“I trust you, Tommy.”

“Oh. Well. Uh, if I could just call him from a secure phone? Privately. I won’t let you track him.”

“I’ll get you something tonight. I won’t even listen in or anything, but are you sure that you’re safe to talk to him?”

“Positive,” Tomy said. “He was my closest friend.”

My only friend.

**********

“You prick, where are you?” Tubbo demanded. “I’ve been trying to find you for a week.”

Tommy laughed. “I’m safe, everything’s fine. Listen, I’m trying to stay unfound, so don’t tell Schlatt anything.”

Tubbo paused. “Really? He’s trying to break you out. But you weren’t in Pandora or the Tower.”

“He’s not,” Tommy sighed. “He’s angry I got caught and he thinks I’m gonna spill all his secrets.”

“So… you escaped and you’re hiding somewhere?”

Ah, Tubbo didn’t know he was being rehabilitated.

When did Tommy become okay with rehabilitation?

“No, I’m actually, uh, I’m getting some help. I’m okay, everything’s figured out.”

“‘Getting some help’?”

“The heroes are rehabilitating me and I think… I’m okay with it?”

Tubbo hummed, disturbed.

“They’re not manipulating me, really, they’re protecting me from Schlatt and I get along with the guy looking after me. So… so there, dickhead.”

Tubbo wasn’t a villain. He’d always been the better person of the two of them. In fact. Tubbo had tried many times to turn Tommy on a better path. He didn’t love the heroes, but Tubbo liked them better than the villains.

“I can’t believe you’re working with Schlatt,” Tommy chuckled.

“Listen, I thought you were imprisoned somewhere and that’s just inhumane considering all the trauma you’ve been through.”

Tommy snorted. “Wait until you hear about the mask.”

“The huh?”

“Story for another time. Listen, tell Schlatt to go fuck himself and let me know where he’s been residing lately?”

Tubbo didn’t answer for a minute.

“Tubs? You’re safe, right? You can tell him to fuck off, can’t you?”

“I can, but maybe only if you’re sure that the heroes are gonna get em’.”

“Oh, fuck, Tubbo what did he do to you?”

“Nothing,” he said, way too nonchalantly. “I just gave him a bit too much access to some of my personal information and I don’t know what he’ll do.”

“How did that happen?”

“I needed some higher power tech to get into the tower and sort of basically, maybe, a bit, had to sell him my information for it.”

“Tubbo!”

“I was desperate to find you!”

“That’s crazy. Nobody knows shit about you, you—you totally fucking compromised yourself.”

“I was desperate! You should be thanking me!”

Tommy was taken aback. Tubbo compromised himself for Tommy.

“Thank you,” he said quickly, sincerely. “No, I am grateful, Tubbo. I am. Just worried for you.”

Tubbo sighed. “I know. I’ll tell you where he is but get your heroes on it quickly, he knows where I steal my tech from and I don’t want anyone tipped off.”

“Thank you.”

“One question first.”

“Shoot.”

“What hero are you staying with?”

Tommy almost answered immediately. “Tubbo, I don’t think it would be a good idea to tell you that.”

Something tightened in Tommy’s chest.

“Oh—damn, no, you’re right. I can see how that would be suspiscious.”

A tense silence interrupted their call.

“His last place was compromised so he’s temporarily staying in the Jelwon.”

“That rich prick hotel?”

“You know he likes his luxuries.”

Tommy huffed. “Can’t wait to see that place get SWATTED.”

“He’s got a forcefield woman with him as a guard, they’re posing as a couple. Guns won’t work, she’s pretty powerful.”

“Good to know. Anything else?”

A breathless pause.

“I miss you.”

Tommy’s heart squeezed.

“Miss you too. But listen, the second they can call me officially rehabilitated, we’ll meet up again.”

“I guess I’ll see you around.”

“Bye Tubs.”

They ended the call and Tommy rushed to tell Wilbur everything. Wilbur was sitting patiently on the couch, strumming his guitar. Tommy held the phone out for Wilbur to take.

“It’s okay, you can keep it. Just be careful who you call and where you are when you do it.”

The trust that Wilbur had in him made Tommy feel warm. He sat close to Wilbur on the couch and recounted everything he and Tubbo discussed.

**********

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?’ Wilbur asked for the third time.

Techno snorted.

“I’m sure. I’m glad you’re the one going,” Tommy said. “And if a whole ass dragon can’t protect me I don’t know what will.”

Wilbur sighed, letting his hands fall from Tommy’s shoulder. He looked over at Techno. “You remember all the O2 stuff?”

“Wilbur, we’re fine. Get lost.”

Techno grabbed Wilbur’s arm and started pulling him toward the door. Wilbur went somewhat willingly and only looked back at Tommy twice before the door closed behind him. Techno turned abruptly to Tommy.

“You should take a nap,” Techno said.

Tommy blinked. “Fuck you?”

“Was that a question?”

“Why would I take a nap?”

“Because you’re stressed out and it’ll all be done by the time you wake up.”

“Is it so you won’t have to watch me?”

Techno snorted. “Okay, you caught me.”

He was joking, but Tommy would have done the same thing.

“Don’t think I could sleep anyway,” Tommy said with a shrug, heading for the couch.

“Not surprised,” Techno said, following him before pausing behind the couch. “Why don’t we play something?”

Tommy raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“Have you ever tried Terraria? I know he has it here somewhere.”

Tommy shook his head. Techno took this as his cue to look for the game, which he found easily in the drawers of the TV stand. He turned it on and passed Tommy a controller.

Then they started playing. And Techno taught Tommy the basics, keeping him away from all the monsters. Tommy didn’t think he got hit once.

Until…

“Techno what the fuck is THAT—”

Tommy died.

Techno was laughing at him. “How did you even get that far underground?”

“What was that?”

“It was just an imp.”

“I’m scarred.”

“You’re fine. Come on pick your controller back up, we’re going to meet The Eye of Cthulu.”

“Sounds like a nice guy.”

“Oh, he is.”

News flash: he was not. And Tommy died again. A lot. While Techno single-handedly destroyed the beast. Tommy sat back at one point, having given up on being any help, and cheered Techno on.

Toward the end of the long, hard-fought battle, Techno got a ping to his earpiece.

He paused the game to listen.

Tommy had forgotten what was going on while they were here playing. The heroes were drawing Schlatt out of his room and imprisoning him. Or trying.

“You think so?” Techno asked. “We have time.”

Tommy touched Techno’s arm, trying to urge an update out of him. Instead of giving him anything, Techno took Tommy’s hand into his own.

“I can do that, you just have to be fast.”

Tommy pulled his hand away and stood up, stressed. Techno looked at him and raised a placating hand.

“There’s nowhere to hide in here, we either have to get to the tower or I’m gonna have to burn a hole through this building.”

Tommy’s mind started racing. He was coming. Schlatt was coming. They didn’t catch him.

Hesitantly and frustratedly, Techno finished the conversation with a “Fine, if you’re sure, Phil.”

“Techno?” Tommy urged.

“Into Wilbur’s room,” Techno said, “you’re fine, I’m gonna keep you safe.”

Tommy backed away toward Wilbur’s room, Techno turned everything off. All lights, the TV, everything. He came into Wilbur’s room, closed the door, and shapeshifted into a small dragon—he didn’t fit too well in here.

“Just a precaution,” Techno said, voice raspy. “He wasn’t there and some of his guys were spotted coming this way.”

Tommy’s knees were weak so he lowered himself onto the ground, leaning sideways against the bed.

“Easy,” Techno soothed, pressing his scaly nose into Tommy’s temple. “Can you set up your oxygen for me?”

Shakily, Tommy pulled Wilbur’s kit from under his bed and started to assemble it. He was moving slowly. The last thing he wanted was for Schlatt to come in and see him like that.

When Techno realized Tommy wasn’t putting any effort into setting the oxygen up, he snatched the back of Tommy’s shirt and tugged him into a hug. Techno wrapped his tail and wings around Tommy, and they sat, and listened, and waited.

Techno’s chin hung over Tommy’s head, Tommy was barely visible in the darkness of the room, covered by Techno’s scales.

“Just a precaution,” Techno whispered, voice rumbling over Tommy’s head. “Wilbur’s on his way.”

That helped. Tommy sort of hated that knowing Wilbur was on his way helped. He shouldn’t need Wilbur to feel safe. God, he’d gone soft. He used to terrify the heroes. He used to be one of the top priority villains in the city—he was only a spot behind Schlatt himself.

Tommy scoffed.

“Hey, I’m not trying to tease you,” Techno said.

“I don’t need Wilbur to keep me fucking safe.”

“Okay, Tommy.”

Jesus, Tommy was wrapped up in Brutum’s arms and wings. When did he become this? When did he get so weak and scared—he used to backtalk Schlatt. He used to pick fights with heroes as warmups.

Tommy shoved his way out of Brutum’s grip.

“Hey, hey, it’s fine—”

“Shut up,” Tommy snapped, now sitting just in front of Brutum instead.

“Tommy—”

A click.

Just one single, small, potentially harmless click somewhere in the apartment.

Techno’s glowing eye twitched. He jerked his head to the left, only an inch. Tommy stilled his breathing.

Techno turned his gaze back to Tommy and started drawing a word into the carpet.

G-U-N.

Tommy tensed, setting his jaw, and he got ready to leap away from any danger ready to burst through the walls.

A red dot landed neatly over Tommy’s heart.

“Wraith!” Tommy yelled rolling toward the door.

The gun fired and Techno lunged toward the corner that Wraith, one of Schlatt’s, had phased through the building.

The entire right wall of Wilbur’s bedroom crumbled with a ringing boom. Tommy had run into their living room, which was also missing a chin of its wall. And through the hole left there, came a villain Tommy had easily beat in many fights.

With his powers.

And before he got sick and weak.

Amythest. She was the worst sometimes because even if Tommy could get out a fight with her mostly unscathed, the crystals they flung at him left bruises the colour of charcoal.

And on Amythest’s best days, the crystals tore through skin like daggers.

A whistling shocked Tommy back into action, blood trickled down his temple from a flying crystal. He ducked away from another and charged toward the villain. They were grinning at him.

Tommy was knocked back by the shoulder, a crystal having embedded itself in his flesh.

He rolled into the fall and kicked himself back up. Through the hole in the apartment, Tommy watched Wraith’s body go flying out of Wilbur’s room. The villains went intangible as they plummeted.

Amethyst sent a flurry of shards Tommy’s way. Techno’s thick hide enveloped Tommy and dragged him away. Lavender shrapnel stuck out from every angle of Techno’s back, some having ripped chasms in the leather of his wings.

He roared in pain and anger.

Keeping Tommy behind him with his tail, Techno inhaled and launched a column of fire at Amethyst. They gasped and dropped out of the building.

A hand latched around Tommy’s neck and squeezed. At Tommy’s choked noise, Techno whirled around and clawed at the person.

Who was gone the second he reached out.

The person appeared behind Techno with a power-dampening cuff in hand.

Tommy wrapped his hand around a piece of rubble and launched it at their head.

“It’s fucking Tiny,” Tommy grunted as the villain shrank to avoid the rubble.

They appeared again on Techno’s back, dagger raised high.

Tommy stumbled to his feet as Techno jumped, slamming Tiny into the ceiling. He threw them to the side. Tommy took this as his cue to go subdue them, but Techno tripped him with his tail.

“No,” Techno said, then he pinned Tiny to the ground with a claw, “hide somewhere.”

“Fucking where?” Tommy yelled, gesturing to the blown-open living room.

Tiny shrank and scurried out from between Techno’s claws. They grew in a flash, driving their dagger up through Techno’s neck.

Tommy screamed at the sight of it, going to rush forward, when arms latched around him. Tommy was forced to his knees, someone still shoving, trying to press him into the ground.

“Tech—” he yelled, cut off by the effort of keeping himself up.

Techno was still fucking fighting. Somehow.

Tiny was unconscious on the floor.

A second dragon came barrelling into the building, claws outstretched for the person tackling Tommy.

The claw landed around the person’s face, driving them backwards into the ground.

Wilbur turned back into a person and lifted Tommy to his feet. Tommy looked back to see Wraith clutching their stomach, it was gushing with blood.

Wilbur unclipped something from his belt, a glass capsule. He crushed it in his hand over Wraith. Pink liquid dribbled from Wilbur’s hand onto the wound in Wraith’s stomach.

Then he turned back to Tommy, cupped his cheek and quickly looked him over.

“Okay, we’re going to the tower,” Wilbur said.

“Techno’s hurt,” Tommy sputtered. “He won’t last.”

Wilbur looked over Tommy’s head and his eyes widened. He pushed past Tommy, calling Techno’s name.

Amethyst pulled a crystal shard out of Techno’s stomach—Techno’s human stomach.

Rage had Tommy’s chest burning—like his breaths were made of fire. He followed Wilbur as the hero grabbed Amethyst’s wrist, twisting the crystal out of their hand. The crystal fell into Wilbur’s other hand and he used the blunt side of it to knock her out.

Amethyst’s head swung to the right and they fell limply at Wilbur’s feet.

Wilbur dropped to Techno’s side, unclipping another capsule from his belt. He crushed it over Techno’s stomach, face dropping at noticing the one in his neck.

“Oh God,” Wilbur choked.

He unclipped his last healing capsule and let it flow over Techno’s neck.

Tommy heard someone behind him and raised a hand to catch the fist aimed at his head.

He held the wrist of Schlatt.

Who drove a large syringe into his stomach.

Tommy squeaked in fear and crumpled to his knees.

A small spit of fire flew over Tommy’s head, heat brushing his hair, and sent Schlatt stumbling back. The flames clung to his black suit—and the horns on his mask were doused in fire.

Someone looped an arm around Tommy’s chest and dragged him back as Wilbur, now a blue dragon again, leapt for Schlatt.

A green forcefield covered Schlatt in a bubble, knocking Wilbur away.

Tommy looked wildly around for the woman holding the field up, but she was nowhere.

“Can you stand?” Phil asked, the one holding Tommy.

“Forget me,” Tommy hissed. “Help Wilbur.”

“Sorry mate,” Phil said, pulling Tommy into his arms. “You’re what he’s after.”

Tommy watched Wilbur get back up in time to be attacked by another villain Tommy didn’t recognize. Techno, now, was up—he had found the woman with the forcefields. He was trying to distract her and make the one around Schlatt fall.

Schlatt held up a gun—

“Phil—”

Phil stumbled as a bullet lodged itself in his suit’s wings, then again in his calf. He dropped Tommy and they fell. Phil scrambled backwards to cover Tommy.

Wilbur threw the villain he was fighting in front of Schlatt blocking his view of Tommy.

Schlatt’s eyes glowed and Tommy braced himself.

A pulse of energy rattled the building as Schlatt released a wave of energy. It emitted from him like an explosion. Tommy’s ears rang. He watched Wilbur and the villain fly into the wall.

The forcefield came down.

A vignette crept into Tommy’s vision. The spot Schlatt injected him grew increasingly hot and sharp with pain.

Phil was unmoving next to Tommy. Wilbur was unmoving, crumpled against the wall. Looking behind him, Techno was barely standing, wobbling toward Tommy.

Tommy shook his head out and tried to get to his feet. He ended up crawling two dizzy paces toward Techno.

Schlatt was walking toward them with an annoyed scowl.

Techno fell to his knees in front of Tommy and grabbed his wrist. “You need to do whatever it takes,” he breathed, “to get away from him. You need to leave.”

Techno stood again, stepping in front of Tommy, and drawing a dagger.

“I mean it, Tommy,” Techno said, before throwing the dagger at Schlatt.

Tommy turned to run. Because he was a coward and he always followed order and he couldn’t be caught—he couldn’t do this again.

So he ran even as a couple of gunshots—that surely struck—sounded behind him.

The apartment wasn’t high off the ground. Tommy jumped outside, landing roughly on a balcony. He climbed over the railing and lowered himself as much as he could before having to let go and land on another.

About to do this one last time, Tommy was slammed backwards into a pair of sliding glass doors.

The forcefield lady had him by the throat, holding him down on the bed of glass shards.

The black in Tommy’s vision was almost full. He fought it. But as Schlatt dropped down next to them, the fear was too much for Tommy to push past.

**********

Phil crawled his way to Techno first. He had half-healed wounds in his neck and stomach. Now he had bullets lodged in his collar and shoulder. Phil unclipped two capsules from his belt and crushed them over Techno’s new wounds. Then he pulled his son onto his side to look at his back.

Phil held back a gag at the sight of Techno’s back. Amethyst had cut him open all over. The crystals had all fallen out when he shifted back to human. The punctures stayed.

Phil cracked his last healing capsule over Techno’s back and tried to spread it around as much as possible past his suit.

Phil looked around the room. he cringed at the villains, unconscious and bleeding out. But he didn’t have healing to spare on them.

Phil looked at Wilbur, who was now slowly waking up.

“Wilbur,” Phil said softly. “Come to me if you can.”

Blinking sluggishly, Wilbur pushed himself up on wobbly legs. He was disoriented and confused, yet to figure out that Tommy was gone.

“Is he okay?” Wilbur rasped, kneeling less than elegantly with Phil.

“Not really,” Phil admitted, hoping to get Wilbur to focus on Techno. “I’m sure the medics are at the building, probably waiting for the all-clear.”

Wilbur nodded and reached for Techno, swiping back his brother’s hair.

Phil clicked his earpiece and switched the channel to Charlie’s. “We’re clear up here. Need you fast.”

“Do we need stretchers?”

“Just one,” Phil said. Then he looked Wilbur over. “Okay, maybe two.”

“Villains?”

Ah, right, those guys.

“Oh… yeah, there’s three of them. Two of our own.”

“And Tommy?”

Phil wanted to delay Wilbur's realization as long as possible, so instead of answering clearly, Phil said, “No.”

But Wilbur was looking around the room. And Phil knew what for. Wilbur stood.

“Wil, sit down mate.”

“No, no, where’s Tommy?” Wilbur grabbed the neckline of his suite. “We didn’t… we didn’t win?”

“Wilbur,” Phil urged gently, “Come here. Sit down.”

Wilbur plastered a palm over his mouth. Phil watched painfully as Wilbur’s chest jumped and he lowered himself back to the floor, knees weak.

Phil shuffled over to him and pulled Wilbur into a hug, sitting his son between his legs, caging him between his arms.

“Wilbur, breathe—” Phil begged.

He was holding Wilbur off the ground, trying desperately to comfort him while their medics worked their way up to the apartment.

Wilbur heaved and gasped, fighting in Phil’s grip—Phil wasn’t sure why he was trying to get away. Where would he go? What could he do?

“Wil,” Phil whispered, “mate, you’ve gotta calm down so we can get you treated.”

“He can’t have gone far,” Wilbur rasped.

Phil laid his hand over the side of Wilbur’s face, keeping him flush against his chest. “You can’t fight anymore. You can’t.”

Wilbur let out a wordless, agonizing whine. He was shaking, and Phil was reminded again of just how much Wilbur cared for Tommy.

Phil remembered the night Wilbur escaped for the first time during his rehabilitation. Phil remembered the anxiety that overwhelmed him. Wilbur was nowhere to be found, he turned up half-dead in an alley. Only found because he was in too much pain to pull himself into the dumpster nearby.

Charlie was the one that found him.

Wilbur pulled out of Phil’s hold enough to lean away and vomit out his stress.

“Shit, Wilbur,” Phil rubbed his arm. “It’s okay. We’re going to get right on this again as soon as we’re healed up.”

Charlie and his team jogged through the door.

“Techno first,” Phil said, pointing to his other son. “Please.”

Charlie nodded and tended to Techno. Some of the team advanced cautiously toward the villains to cuff them and prepare them for transfer.

Wilbur gagged again, followed by shallow panting.

“Breathe, Wilbur,” Phil soothed. “Come on, you’re good at this. All you can do right now is breathe.”

After no response and no more heaving, Phil pulled Wilbur back up. Wilbur’s head lolled back over Phil’s shoulder, making Phil’s chest tight with anxiety.

“Wil?” Phil put a hand and his son’s chest.

Charlie easily knelt by Phil and Wilbur. Phil looked back at Techno being lifted onto a stretcher.

“Wil,” Charlie prompted, taking Wilbur’s face in his hands. “Hey.”

Wilbur weakly held his head up.

“Can you tell me what hurts?” Charlie hesitantly let go of Wilbur’s head, then he waved over their shoulder for a stretcher. “Wil?”

Phil watched Charlie’s eyes go wide and Charlie cupped a hand over the side of Wilbur’s head that Phil couldn’t see.

“Wilbur, is there any pain in your neck? You’re back?”

“No,” Wilbur slurred.

Charlie made an uneasy noise. “Let’s ease him onto the stretcher and immobilize the head just in case.”

Shit, Phil thought. He missed a head injury on Wilbur? Fuck, what was wrong with him? he barely checked Wil over.

“It’s okay,” Charlie said, touching Phil’s arm. “He’s fine. Techno’s fine.”

Phil nodded. Charlie was way too good at his job. Phil let the medics take Wilbur, who was crying and delirious. Phil fought back the stinging in his eyes and dragged himself to his feet. He tried not to make the limp obvious.

Charlie noticed.

“Phil—”

Phil waved a dismissive hand and started hobbling toward the exit. His glider was broken and he had to take the stairs. Sigh.

“Philza!”

“Thanks, Charlie, bye Charlie.”

Phil needed the long walk down the stairs to think.

**********

Schlatt didn’t say anything to Tommy. He threw him in this basement—the same basement—and told him to wait. Weakened by fear, injury, and the power dampening bracelet, Tomm had nothing to do other than to listen to the man.

And stare at that table. Tommy was somewhat sure that the blood left on it was his. From the operation.

Tommy tried to convince himself that Schlatt wouldn’t put it back on him. Schlatt would see it as a waste of time and resources. Hopefully he’d just kill Tommy instead.

Another, more realistic part of Tommy knew that he would put it back on as a further punishment.

And for the first time since Wilbur took Tommy in, he was grateful for the tracker built into his power dampening bracelet. He only feared that Schlatt would figure that one out and break it. Knowing him, he’d stick another without a tracker on Tommy.

Because now that Tommy had a taste of the good life, he planned on fighting for it. Schlatt probably knew that.

Maybe he thinks he’s saving me.

But he wouldn’t. Tommy was only fantasizing to keep himself calm.

Maybe he’s helping me.

He was not. But he could pretend that Schlatt would walk in with a water bottle and pills for his headache and say, “hey pal, you got kidnapped by heroes, let me help you with that!”

Schlatt had been nice the first time they met. Tommy had to wonder where that all went. Or if it was ever there in the first place.

But Schlatt didn’t come back for hours. So Tommy sat bleeding and sore on the cold floor as far away from the table as he could get.

Maybe he was busy fighting off the heroes. Maybe he was busy covering his tracks. Maybe Tommy got locked in here, left to die.

But that couldn’t be it. Wilbur would find him before that could happen.

**********

Wilbur was good at his job. He was a good fighter, a good compromiser, and a good planner. One thing he struggled with was regulating his emotions, but right now he felt pretty good. He was hovering just outside the laundromat that Tommy’s tracker brought him to.

With Quackity’s power in his hands, and all of Wilbur’s unfortunate knowledge of supervillain tendencies, he was ready to infiltrate. And knowing Techno’s sleep schedule, he shouldn’t see the note for another hour or so. Hopefully, enough time for Wilbur to judge if this was a bad decision or not.

But it had been three days already and he couldn’t stand the thought of Tommy back in the hands of Schlatt. Alone.

Wilbur slipped through the door of the laundromat carrying a fake batch of clothes. There were two people in here. One was taking their clothes out of the dryer, preparing to leave. The other was sitting on a bench, waiting, apparently, for the load in the washer that still had twenty minutes left on it. This person had a uniform on.

That, Wilbur decided, was Schlatt’s sentry.

Wilbur casually began fumbling for coins, preparing his own detergent—little slips of foamy solid soap that he ‘struggled’ to get out of the package—all while waiting for the other person to leave.

Wilbur and Schlatt’s guard were finally alone.

“Hey uh, I think this machine’s broken,” Wilbur said. “No water coming out.”

The man sighed and stood to come see what the problem was.

“Yeah it’s got a hole down there,” Wilbur said, pointing deep into the machine.

The uniformed man stuck his head over the washing machine to get a look.

Wilbur brought the heavy metal door down on his head. The man crumpled, falling to Wilbur’s feet.

Swiftly, Wilbur stepped outside to flip the sign on the door to ‘closed’. Then he locked the door from the inside and dragged the man’s body out of the way of the window.

Wilbur sighed, somewhat ashamed of himself, because he knew all the spots to hide a secret door. However, this time it would be a secret latch.

There was an oddly placed carpet in the corner of the room. Nobody would be standing there. Who puts a small rug in the very corner of a room? Wilbur picked it up by the corner and saw the thin outline of a removable panel.

No handle.

With a groan of impatience Wilbur walked to the only machine in the building that had an out of order sign on it. He tried every latch and button until the panel under the rug clicked. Now the panel hovered half an inch above the ground and Wilbur was able to pull it open.

Stairs. Rickety, creepy, dirty stairs.

And he was walking down them expecting a fight.

The staircase wasn’t long, he could see the door at the bottom, but there was no light shining through it. This made him think that beyond the door was another collection of hallways rather than a single room. This could have been a tunnel system to various Schlatt outposts.

Schlattposts, Tommy would call them.

Wilbur’s heart squeezed.

Wilbur pressed his ear against the door and listened closely, reaching out with Quackity’s powers. When he didn’t latch on to anyone, Wilbur opened the door and peeked inside. He didn’t see cameras. He didn’t see anything that might trip an alarm.

At least not anything cheap, but who knows, Schlatt could have invested in better security than all the other guys Wilbur had infiltrated.

He stepped all the way in, closed the door behind him, and started down the hall.

Then he slipped on his mask.

On his walk he thought back to Techno and Phil, sleeping in the tower, soon to wake up. They’d freak out when they realized he was gone.

Just to be sure, Wilbur reached toward Techno with Quackity’s power.

Techno?

No answer.

Phil?

Still asleep.

Wilbur sighed a relieved breath and came to a T in the road. To his left was a door another few feet down the hall. To his right, a longer corridor that turned again further down.

Tunnel system.

Wilbur pressed his ear against the left door and reached out again with Quackity’s power. This time, it latched on to an entity in the room. The energy was smug, satisfied, and relaxed.

Wilbur chose not to engage, waiting only to hear what would happen next.

He heard muffled speaking and tried harder than ever in his life to hear.

“It will kill him if we do it that way,” an unfamiliar voice said. “And I’m willing to do it, but that doesn’t seem like what you want.”

A pause.

“It’s not,” Schlatt agreed. “But you can make a second version of the original?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you can engrave my name on it?”

Wilbur clenched his jaw, leaping to the conclusion that they were discussing another metal mask.

Then someone whispered. Someone Wilbur didn’t know was there. Somebody that wasn’t detected by Quackity’s telepathy.

Wilbur quickly backed away from the door, readying his pistol.

A hand wrapped itself over Wilbur’s mouth, digging into his jawbones. Something was pressed into his stomach, a rough pin prick before a cold rush of liquid was released.

This wasn’t exactly the plan, but it also wasn’t the end of the world.

Wilbur didn’t try to fight the sedative. He was where he wanted to be.

Chapter Text

When Wilbur was roughly dragged into the room, Tommy thought this had to be some kind of diversion. This had to be part of a plan. Wilbur was going to become conscious again any second and start beating asses, asking no questions—he was going to save Tommy.

But they strapped him to the table. That same table that Tommy had been fastened to. They tightened the metal around his wrists, upper arms, and legs. He was clamped firmly to his doom. And Tommy didn’t have the strength in his chest to scream or get up—fuck—he didn’t even try to save Wilbur. He watched.

Schlatt turned to him, waving away the others that had dragged Wilbur in. Schlatt stared Tommy down, displeased in one eye and amused in the other.

“At least it’s not you, right?”

When Tommy didn’t answer, the motherfucker left. He left Tommy to wonder what was coming next. Left him to wonder if it was a bluff, if he was really going to hurt Wilbur.

On his way out Schlatt said, “you’re lucky we don’t have the surgeons with us today.”

The surgeons being mercenaries that were good with daggers.

Surgeon was a kinder word for butcher.

As the door closed behind Schlatt, Tommy stumbled to his feet and slammed palms-first into the table. He hovered over Wilbur, strangling back tears—he couldn’t let them fall on Wilbur’s face—for some reason that seemed like the greatest sin in the world.

He tapped Wilbur’s cheeks—why hadn’t they taken his mask off?

Wilbur didn’t stir. Tommy tapped a little harder. Then shook his shoulders. And finally, he resorted to tearing at the metal. He pulled and shook the table with all of his effort. Nothing budged despite the rust coating it.

Tommy spiraled. He punched the metal table and raged with frustrated groans and curses. He looked for a crack to tear out a chunk of the wall, to use as a bludgeoning weapon—not that it would help with these cuffs.

He’d cursed Wilbur.

Wilbur was going to get tortured. But why? Why Wilbur? What would make Schlatt think that Tommy cared at all about Wilbur?

And then Tommy hoped.

Maybe he didn’t. Maybe Schlatt was more afraid of Wilbur because Wilbur had access to his powers—what powers did Wilbur have right now anyway? Maybe he wasn’t hurting Wilbur to hurt Tommy.

Tommy ran stressed hands through his hair, gripping tightly and pulling. He walked circles around the room, glancing back at Wilbur when he couldn’t slow his breathing. There were two doors into this room.

Tommy had only tried to break down one, and it was the one they had pulled Wilbur through—the left one. Tommy hadn’t tried the right because he figured it only led further into the complex. And once, he’d held his ear against it and heard shuffling on the other side. A guard was his guess.

So Tommy stalked toward the other door, listened against that one, heard nothing, and threw his entire weight into it over and over again. He relentlessly relied on the feeling of trying, the feeling that he wasn’t sitting around uselessly moping. Anything, no matter how painful, was better than letting Wilbur rot in here with him.

He just prayed that the door would wear down before he did.

“Tommy?”

Tommy caught himself mid-ram and whirled wildly back to face Wilbur. Wilbur was tugging tentatively at his restraints, to which Tommy rushed over and held him still.

“Don’t, it’s all rusty and sharp.”

“Hey,” Wilbur said softly.

“The fuck you mean ‘hey’?” Tommy bit his cheek. “Fucking ‘hey’?”

Wilbur smiled and opened his hand for Tommy to take. He couldn’t move it much, but there was still room in his palm for Tommy’s.

“Has he hurt you?” Wilbur asked.

“Not yet.”

“Be honest with me.”

Tommy blinked. “I am. I swear.”

Wilbur nodded. “Have I been out long?”

“No. You just got here,” Tommy said, rubbing his thumb over what wasn’t concealed of Wilbur’s wrist.

“That’s good, that’s good. Listen, this is all part of the plan, okay?”

Tommy’s breathing stuttered. “I—is it?”

“Promise.”

“You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

“No. No, I wouldn't do that. We’re a team right now and that means you deserve to be in the loop.”

As much as Tommy liked that Wilbur respected him enough to consider him a teammate, he half wanted Wilbur to consider him a civilian—someone to be saved.

Then Tommy realized his own thinking and cringed. He looked away from Wilbur and let his hand fall. Instead he crossed his arms and turned back toward the door.

A harsh knock against the right door had Tommy flinching toward Wilbur again, for some reason, ready to defend. Whatever the sound had come from, seemed to be an accident, because nothing came after. The guard might have switched. Or maybe they were about to come in—

“Breathe,” Wilbur whispered.

The door flew open and a team came in. They were unfamiliar people. But they donned the mark of Schlatt’s organization, the ram horns.

Tommy almost backed away but resolved to stay by Wilbur. He did, however, drop the man’s hand.

Schlatt walked in after four others. He had his hands held behind his back and Tommy’s first instinct was that behind him, he held another mask. He’d said the ‘surgeons’ weren’t in today—these weren’t the people that cut Tommy open and melded the mask to his flesh.

“I thought I heard you talking,” Schlatt said with a laugh. “Listen, I really was going to leave you alone because I thought he’d be out longer, but uh, can’t have you finding a way out.”

Tommy’s throat grew tight, swollen with terror and hatred.

If he coughed he was sure blood would splatter through his teeth. Tommy already hurt like he was being slaughtered.

“And I certainly didn’t want you to have any real company,” Schlatt continued, slowly closing in on Tommy. “Having a hero here isn't a good omen, you know. He’s got tracke’s on him, the second I hurt him his team will know it.”

Tommy glanced over at Wilbur, but Wilbur looked calm. Tommy tried to trust that he had everything under control. He tried to trust that Wilbur had known what might happen when he came here.

Fuck, was this a dream?

Tommy started roughly biting his own tongue in hopes of waking himself up.

A pinch of deja vu might have killed him then.

“I should have some chairs or something brought in here,” Schlatt mused. “I wanted to talk to you but there’s nowhere to sit.”

Tommy tried to scowl, he tried to look hateful. He felt it all, but the terror was on top, it was protruding from his skin and nearly leaking from his eyes. He was absorbed and covered in sizzling fear.

“You look tense,” Schlatt teased. “I’m not going to hurt you, Atra, that wouldn’t be smart of me. I want your loyalty again, isn’t it obvious?”

Tommy’s heart must have stopped because he’d never felt such pain between his lungs.

“You disobeyed me long ago, betrayed me, even, but I realized that you’re going to be one of the most powerful villains of our era and… and I just couldn’t waste such a valuable connection.”

Was this supposed to be an attempt at winning Tommy over?

“You’re confused. Go on, ask me anything. I’ll only be honest.”

Tommy collected his breaths enough to piece together a sentence. “What if I don’t want to work under you anymore?”

Schlatt shrugged. “Not a big deal. We’ll just have to keep things civil, maybe stay in touch.”

“So you’d let me go?”

Schlatt chuckled. “Of course, Atra, who do you think I am? I’ve humiliated you enough, I think. You'll come back to me eventually anyway. What with the heroes knowing your identity and all…”

Schlatt didn’t know Tommy wasn’t a villain anymore.

Tommy twisted his face into an insincere smirk. “You’re probably right, can’t hide from the tower and every civilian.”

Schlatt nodded, satisfied. “Maybe I can even let you do your own thing from within my operations? No strings. We’ll be like neighbours.”

Tommy dropped his shoulders and turned fully toward Schlatt. “You have to understand my hesitance.”

Schlatt nodded solemnly. “My… punishment was over the top, but you can’t tell me you didn’t deserve it.”

Wilbur's jaw clenched.

Tommy shrugged. “I guess we both live and learn.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Schlatt said, light and fakely fond, “listen, I’ll take you to the hideout and get you all settled but there’s a bit of an elephant in this room…”

Schlatt swings his head toward Wilbur.

Tommy shrugged. “What about him?”

“Oh nothing, nothing, it just seemed a little like uh, like you’d become attached to him. And maybe the others.”

Tommy's head pounded.

“What makes you say that? They kept me locked up for months.”

“That’s true. But you certainly were going out of your way to fight off my guys, and not them.”

Tommy scoffed, the sound scraping up his throat. “At the time, I thought you were just there to kill me.”

Schlatt considered this and strolled to Wilbur’s side.

To Tommy’s side.

“Guess I can’t blame you for using them as protection.”

Something about Schlatt’s tone whispered that he knew Tommy was acting.

“Stand back, Atra, this is going to get bloody,” Schlatt finally said, urging two of the others forward.

“What are you going to do?” Tommy asked, ashamed of, and grateful for the neutrality of his own tone.

A third person came forward to gently tug Tommy away. He went only two steps back, just for the sake of neutrality. For now.

“It’s always a mystery what these guys have going on in the tower. Just gonna see what I can get out of him before we kill him.”

Schlatt finally brought his hands in front of him.

Tommy choked on a gasping yelp.

“Easy, Atra, it’s not for you,” Schlatt cackled, setting the new metal mask on Wilbur’s chest. “I just think that when the heroes come to find him, he should be… branded? Is that the right word?”

This mask had Schlatt’s name engraved across it.

“It was going to be yours,” he continued, “but I don’t think I want that anymore. It would be a shame to waste it.”

Tommy swallowed down a string of pitiful sounds. “You know they’re trained for torture, right? You won’t get anything out of him.”

“I’ve succeeded with heroes before. Their training can only go so far. The real thing is very different.” Schlatt tilted the mask back and forth in the light. “I think this is going to be my new motif.”

Tommy was still being held by the elbow.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to kill him and find the tracker? The heroes will be quick.”

“They’re already on their way,” Wilbur threatened.

“Nice try,” Schaltt tusked, “I haven't touched a hair on your head yet, and we dismantled your communications.”

Wilbur shut his mouth with a click.

Tommy was almost taken out by a wave of dizziness.

Wilbur looked defeated. Scared. He glanced over at Tommy, but the second their eyes met, Tommy was yanked away and two daggers were unsheathed.

“Hold on, Atra, it shouldn’t be more than an hour.”

Tommy was going to puke.

He elbowed the person holding him in the gut and lunged forward. The fourth and last person in the room pulled Tommy back by the wrist. Together, they pounced on him and tugged him back to the wall.

Schlatt laughed, watching it all happen.

“I actually believed you, too,” he said, then turned back to Wilbur. “Make this messy, will you?”

Tommy couldn’t see Wilbur’s face.

So, when the daggers made their first cuts, all Tommy saw was a twitch. Sure, it was a twitch of his whole body, but Wilbur was being cut open and all he did was twitch.

Tommy thrashed and grunted. He kicked in the knee of one of his captors, causing Schlatt to sigh and turn around.

Schlatt flung a gun out from under his coat and pointed it at Tommy. Tommy froze, ashamed by his own cowardice.

“Listen Atra, it’s you or him, I don’t have time to torture both of you,” Schlatt snapped.

Tommy stayed still, mouth clamped firmly shut.

Wilbur suddenly twitched more violently, pulling against his restraints. Tommy’s knees buckled and he was left to fall harshly to the floor, held still by his arms.

“You’re not even asking anything!” Tommy fumed. “You’re not even getting anything out of this!”

“It’s about reputation, Atra, you wouldn’t get it, since you lost yours.”

Schlatt’s gun was lazily pointed at the ground now. He turned back to watch Wilbur. Wilbur, who was squirming on the table, having to be held by one of the people over him.

Then he made a sound. Something pained, breathy, and poorly concealed.

It kicked Tommy into action again, boosting him to his feet and blasting wind behind his punches. He dislodged himself from one person and surged toward the next.

A gunshot stilled the room.

Except for Tommy, who fell again, clutching his calf with his free hand. That free hand was angrily wrenched away again, leaving Tommy to bleed openly.

“... stard! Bastard,” Wilbur spat. “Afraid he’s going to beat you if you let him go?”

“Wil—” Tommy urged, trying to convey his concern with only a name.

“Afraid that—” Wilbur choked on a groan, “that if he isn’t cuffed and wrangled back he’d kill you?”

“Bold words coming from a man who hasn’t screamed yet,” Schlatt said.

On cue, one of the people over Wilbur picked up the mask. They raised a single finger, protruding from it: fire. They began heating the edge of the metal, right within everyone’s view.

“Stop it!” Tommy yelled. “God, at least do something new!”

Schlatt laughed, “If I didn’t know how desperate you were, I might have actually been offended.”

The table shook with Wilbur’s efforts to break free from the restraints. Finally, he couldn’t hold back his tortured sounds. He started to scream. It began short, gasping, and developed into something cracked and dry as hot metal touched his skin.

“Stop!” Tommy growled.

Schlatt held up a hand. The ‘surgeons’ stopped.

Wilbur stilled and panted in pain.

“I’ll stop,” Schlatt soothed, “if you ask me to put you up here instead.”

“Tommy,” Wilbur choked, “remember what we talked about.”

“Fuck whatever you talked about,” Schlatt seethed, “Do you care about him or not? At least you know what to expect. I mean, you’re the villain, you probably deserve a bit of punishment, don’t you?”

Tommy began to tremble. It was a miracle he hadn’t been this whole time.

“Tom—”

Wilbur was cut off by a swift jab to his shoulder.

“I mean this guy, he’s trying so hard to save you, and protect you. But here you are, letting him take all the blows for you. God, and you used to be one of the most feared villains in the state,” Schlatt ranted.

Tommy owed Wilbur so much.

“Fucking fine,” Tommy spat.

Schlatt blinked. “Fine?”

“Do it again. Mask me again. See if it makes a difference.”

Schlatt’s face lit up with hilarity. “No way, you really care that much.”

Schlatt’s minions had halted in their torture, waiting his command. The two holding Tommy seemed hesitant too, waiting for the next scene to unfold.

“So?” Tommy prompted, shaking harder. “You gonna make me pay or what?”

Schlatt finally put his gun back in its holster at his belt. He touched the table by Wilbur’s head, looking down at him with a dull but satisfied face. Schlatt leaned against the table and lolled his eyes back over to Tommy’s.

“Nah.”

He snapped his fingers, urging his henchmen on. They pressed the hot metal back onto Wilbur’s face.

Wilbur screamed again.

A loud crash came from above them. The room was sent back into a strenuous silence. Schlatt nodded to one of the ‘surgeons’ over Wilbur, who proceeded to leave through the left door.

After a minute of waiting in near silence—Wilbur’s laboured breaths weren’t a welcome ambiance—there was a loud thump followed by thundering footsteps.

“Shit,” Schlatt hissed, clicking an earpiece. “On me, now.”

Tommy flailed in his captors’ grips, only to be nailed in the side of the head by the butt of another gun.

The person looming over Wilbur was still working. And Schlatt hadn’t ordered them to stop.

Tommy tried to move again and received another hard blow to the head. He blinked and was being dragged toward the right door.

The left one flew open. Guns fired. Tommy was dropped. Wilbur screamed again. Tommy rolled onto his side to try and get up only to have a body fall over him.

He pushed the body off and used the wall to pull himself back to his feet.

Tommy saw a lot happening altogether:

Phil fist-fighting Schlatt.

Charlie—of all people—fighting off a minion.

And Sam, taking on another. For some reason.

Blearily, Tommy realized that the one over Wilbur had left the table to assist Schlatt. And Tommy recognized the glow in Schlatt’s eyes. He didn’t have time to brace himself before they were all thrown to the floor, a blast of energy emanating from Schlatt.

Tommy’s back smacked the wall but he landed lowly on his feet, a hand on the ground to keep himself steady.

Phil recovered quickly, blocking Schlatt from getting to Tommy.

Charlie leaped over his opponent on the ground and ran toward Tommy. Tommy lifted himself on wobbly legs, expecting Charlie to grab him and pull him out of the room.

Instead, Charlie snatched Tommy’s wrist and ripped off his power suppressor with the thumbprint lock.

The force of his powers rushing back to his fingertips made him dizzy. Charlie caught him and leaned him against the wall, glaring warily over his shoulder.

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut, “What—what’s…?”

“There are more of them coming,” Charlie said, “and you’re in more danger without your powers.”

Tommy blinked rapidly.

Charlie suddenly moved away, catching the daggered punch of another henchman.

Phil had taken to chasing Schlatt deeper into the complex. Tommy’s first instinct was to help him, until he remembered WIlbur on the table.

Tommy started toward him when he heard Phil cry out in pain.

Sam had just dispatched another one of Schlatt’s minions. Charlie was here. They—they would get Wilbur.

They had to, because Tommy didn’t think he could look at Wilbur’s face yet.

Tommy burst through the right door, limping the whole way, hopping over the body that had fallen on him.

He came to a long hallway where Phil was holding a dagger back from piercing his throat.

Its owner: Schlatt.

There were subdued henchmen around them, and Tommy saw more running toward them ahead.

Hobbling as fast as he could, Tommy built a withering poison under his skin. He let it burn and boil as he closed in. Schlatt heard him coming and turned his head, but not before Tommy took hold of his throat.

Schlatt made a gargling, agonized sound. Phil shoved him off.

Tommy raised a hand toward the oncoming league of minions and let fire loose upon them. He waved his hand back and forth, spewing orange like a flamethrower.

It was Phil who pulled his arm down, and started forcing him away.

But Schlatt moved. He was not dead.

“Schlatt,” Tommy rasped.

Phil stopped to see for himself as Schlatt stood weakly, holding himself up against the wall.

Phil grasped Tommy’s shoulder. “Head back to Charlie, mate. I’ll take it from here.”

Tommy yanked his shoulder out of Phil’s hand and thrust his whole arm toward Schlatt. The man flinched before the lightning ever touched him.

Tommy grinned viciously as the lightning shriveled Schlatt’s body. He convulsed and contorted.

“Enough, Tommy,” Phil warned. When Tommy didn’t stop Phil seized his arm and turned him away. “Enough.”

Tommy looked up at him, rage simmering into exhaustion and worry and pain.

“Oh—hey,” Phil said. “Shit.”

Tommy went limp in his arms.

**********

Tommy woke up sluggishly, painfully, but not confusedly. His first thoughts were similar things along the lines of “i hate it here” and “someone sedate me” followed by the crushing reminder that Wilbur had been tortured—

“Do not get up,” Techno warned. “Do. Not.”

Tommy closed his eyes, muffling a hiss of pain. The lights were dimmed and the blankets were heavy. It was comfortable like he’d expected from this crowd.

“Wilbur? How’s Wilbur?” Tommy asked, throat dry.

“Wilbur is fine.”

“But—how fine?”

“He’s receiving some treatment right now and he will be fine.”

Tommy put his palms under himself and Techno tilted his head warningly. Tommy still tried to get up. Techno placed a stern hand on his chest and easily held him down.

“You’re injured too, Wilbur wouldn’t want you being reckless, right?”

“Why are you under the impression that I listen to Wilbur?”

Techno smiled smugly and Tommy wondered what secrets he knew.

Tommy’s chest felt tighter every time he thought of Wilbur. He’d been screaming. And Wilbur said that heroes were trained for torture—but Wilbur was screaming. It had to be excruciating—

He was thinking like he hadn’t had the same thing done to him.

“Listen,” Techno started, patting Tommy’s chest, “I’m gonna have some food brought in for you, you’ll take painkillers with it, and then you’ll sleep for a bit.”

“No—”

“Yes. You’ll sleep and the time will pass and you can see Wilbur when he’s better.”

Tommy choked on air. “Is it really bad?”

“Tommy…” Techno said softly.

“You can tell me if it’s bad. Is his face all fucked? Is—is his voice all ruined? His eyes—”

Techno’s hand flattened over Tommy’s chest.

“Calm down. Wilbur is fine. Everything is fine, there is absolutely nothing to worry about. He is alive and all he wants right now is to be fixed up so he can come see you.”

Tommy pushed Techno’s hands away roughly. Because what made Techno think he could do what Wilbur does?

And also, “What the fuck needs fixing? What’s wrong with him? Does it really take that long?”

“We have different protocols for torture.”

Techno winced at the word.

Tommy was abruptly reminded that Techno hadn’t been there.

“Where were you?” he asked accusingly—despite knowing Techno didn’t deserve it.

Techno’s face melted into something plainly guilty and awful and Tommy regretted every last syllable he’d just uttered.

“I was just, uh, I was only there at the end.”

If Tommy had still been angry he would have asked what took Techno so long getting there.

“Sorry,” Tommy mumbled, slowly sitting up while Techno stared at the ground. “Sorry I didn’t really mean it.”

Techno had been stabbed many times in the previous battle… ah, fuck, Tommy shouldn’t have said that.

Techno hesitated, or moreso came back to himself, and noticed Tommy sitting up. Techno’s eyes widened a fraction and his hands jutted back forward, hovering.

“What’re you doin’—lie down.”

“Techno I can’t wait, I need to know what’s happening to him—even if I can just stand outside the room. I—I was the—I heard—”

Techno scooted forward and held Tommy’s forearms. Tommy cringed, almost wanting to pull away again because no, Techno didn’t get to do this. This was Wilbur’s thing. Wilbur was the only exception to Tommy’s distaste for vulnerability.

“You need to rest, you need to be calm. You just relived so much trauma. Take a minute for you, please.”

Tommy blinked and then scowled.

“I didn’t relive shit. Wilbur did. Wilbur relieved my trauma and I don’t feel like it’s unreasonable to want to see him.”

“It’s not,” Techno said carefully. “It’s just too much right now. For everyone. We’re going to tend to all of our injuries, then we rest, then we can reunite.”

When Tommy didn’t answer right away, Techno’s eyes slid to the side. Like he was thinking. Or nervous.

“I feel like you’re not telling me something. Is Phil with him?”

“Phil is with him. And he’s already being crowded. I mean, Phil and Charlie, and Sam and Niki—there’s just a lot of people in there.”

“So why not me?”

Techno wilted.

Then Tommy’s brain rewound.

“Wait,” he sputtered. “Why are Niki and Sam there?”

Techno’s mouth fell open. And stayed open. Until he met Tommy’s eyes with too much confidence.

“They’re friends.”

“So Niki and Sam can be there and not me?”

Techno responded coolly again, “Sam treated your skin after… after. He’s looking at Wil’s.”

Tommy’s eyes stung and his head rushed with heated anger.

“Techno.”

“Tommy?”

“Techno is there a fucking metal mask on Wilbur’s face?”

Techno’s mouth rested open again.

“Techno,” Tommy choked, “I thought you got to us in time.”

Techno’s wide eyes turned downward, his gaze becoming lidded, concealing shame and lies. He wasn’t going to admit it, but Tommy knew.

“Techno—is Wilbur wearing my fucking mask?”

“They’re going to get it off soon—”

Tommy shoved Techno away again and vaulted out of the bed. He landed on sore feet and cold ground. He stumbled the first few steps to the door before realizing he was in a hospital gown. But since he had shorts on, he didn’t bother to change before swinging the door open—

Techno pulled him back by the shoulder and Tommy fell back into his chest. Techno strung his arms around Tommy in a restrictive hug. Tommy grunted and cursed, pulling and stomping on Techno’s feet.

He realized promptly that his bracelet wasn’t on.

Tommy summoned a small spark of lightning, cringing at the pain it brought him to use magic so soon. Techno cried out in pain and fear as his arms convulsed and Tommy shoved his weary limbs back.

Tommy bolted out the door and made a high, pained noise as he put pressure on his leg. It crumbled beneath him and he followed it to the floor. Tommy lifted himself on shaky, bruised elbows.

Techno landed on his knees next to Tommy and wrapped one arm around his waist, the other firmly held his shoulder.

Tommy plastered his palm over Techno’s chest and sent another, slightly more mild shock. Techno choked out a surprised breath and Tommy crawled a few paces away before pushing himself up against the wall. He stood and tumbled forward again.

Step after limping step had him breathing harshly, eyes stinging.

He never used to let the tears come. Since staying with Wilbur, his tear ducts had loosened up a little.

Wilbur.

Tommy’s lungs stopped but his hand guided him down the hall, sliding and pressing over the concrete as he hobbled. He ran into a heavy set of doors and failed to push it open before Techno got to him again.

This time, Tommy whirled toward him and raised his withering hand.

“Stop,” Tommy spat.

“You can’t see him right now,” Techno said, hands up. “He’s being taken care of and you are hurting yourself.”

Tommy didn’t want to interrupt Wilbur’s treatment. Not really. But he had to see. And once it was confirmed, Tommy planned on leveling Schlatt’s entire complex. Schlatt had a family. Schlatt had friends. They were about to be collateral damage.

Tommy backed through the door and Techno followed him. Tommy tripped particularly harshly and caught himself against a window sill.

Techno took the opportunity to rush forward and pull both of Tommy’s hands onto his hold. Then, in barely a blink, Techno had pulled out a power dampening bracelet from his pocket. Tommy made a scared, betrayed sound.

The hesitation it forced on Techno was enough for Tommy to squirm away again.

Tommy focused on the tattoos on his ankles. He didn’t use them much because he preferred his wings, but maybe they’d work better here.

He cringed at the feeling of magic pulsing past the bullet wound in his leg.

His feet lifted off the ground. The small pair of feathered wings etched into each ankle glowed, barely appearing over his sock.

Tommy leaned back and back he flew.

“Tommy please!” Techno called. “Fuck.”

Techno clicked his earpiece. Tommy didn’t hear what he said because he’d made it to the other end of the hall and down the corner in a matter of seconds.

Around the corner he slammed into the wall and nearly fell out of the air. But spite and worry fueled his resistance.

And even though he barely knew the layout of the tower, Tommy managed to find the room he’d first been treated in. He landed on his hands and knees in front of the door into the room. He heard Phil speaking—probably answering Techno.

Tommy wasted no time storming into the room.

There were a few gasps but all Tommy heard was Wilbur’s pained breaths.

Tommy stood frozen in the doorway as Phil gently approached him. Wilbur, after a few seconds, realized Tommy was there. His eyes went wide.

Only his eyes. No wide smile. No soft smile. No sympathetic frown.

Because his mouth wasn’t there.

His face was metal.

Tommy’s shaking hand found its way to his lips. At that point, Phil was too close for comfort, so Tommy backed away.

Phil was speaking at him but Tommy didn’t intend to listen.

Wilbur was trying to get off the operating table—they hadn’t even started taking the mask off and he was already making such pained noises.

Sam and Charlie held Wilbur on the table. He winced and cringed just like Tommy had all the way down the hall. Charlie said something lowly to Wilbur. Sam pulled most of the weight in keeping Wilbur on the table.

Tommy took back to the air.

Tommy needed to ruin everything left of Schlatt.

His tunnels, his bases, his allies—he was going to slaughter Amethyst and Tiny and Wraith. Oh, they were first. They were going to wish they’d never seen Tommy. They were going to wish they’d never heard his name.

Tommy turned the corner as a red light began blaring.

It was almost thrilling.

For me?

They would expect him to head for the nearest door. So he wasn’t going to. Then they’d expect him to go to an emergency exit. Amateurs. Tommy was heading for the roof. And they’d probably go there too, but Tommy would be quicker.

One thing about this tower was that it was designed to have “efficient” elevators. And apparently that meant doorless, high speed elevators.

Tommy flew into the elevator shaft and went up. He flew as fast and as hard as he could until he almost slammed into the ceiling.

Thankfully the elevator had been below him on the first floor.

At the door into the bulkhead that led outside, stood a hero Tommy didn’t recognize. Therefore, he had little sympathy for them.

“I don’t know you, I don’t care about you,” Tommy warned. “I’ll hurt you if I have to.”

The hero dangled a power dampening bracelet between their fingers.

“Tommy—”

“You don’t get to call me that,” Tommy snapped, stepping forward with his good leg. “You can call me Atra.”

“You are not a villain anymore.”

“I’m about to be.”

Tommy.

Tommy blinked.

“Did—what?”

Tommy, stop whatever you’re doing.

The hero in front of him watched him knowingly.

It’s Wilbur. I’m using telepathy. Come back to me.

Tommy pinched the space between his eyes and shook his head out.

Quackity’s power. He must have warned the heroes about everything happening—how many villains there were—the tunnels, the way in. Everything.

Tommy, it’s alright. I’m alright. Don’t do anything drastic.

“Move,” Tommy demanded, ignoring Wilbur. “Move or I’ll fucking fry you.”

The hero frowned at him and stepped toward him.

Tommy sprung a hand out and sparks flew from his fingers into the face of the hero. They didn’t move a muscle. Tommy switched hands to use fire. It didn’t phase them. He stepped back, nearly into the elevator shaft.

The hero made a nervous, quick noise.

No matter how, they weren’t affected by his powers.

Tommy stepped further back and let himself plummet, praying he could catch himself. he did. Then Tommy rocketed out of the shaft onto the bottom floor. Although he didn’t mean to turn into the main lobby.

Three figures yelped.

Two reached for him.

The other spread his massive wings in front of the doors.

Tommy slammed into Phil who wrapped his giant wings and strong arms around Tommy. He turned them over so Tommy was pinned underneath him.

“Easy, easy,” Phil soothed.

“Fuck,” Tommy spat, “get off—get off!”

Without much thought, Tommy let electricity run at full power up his arm. Phil’s arm twitched and stiffened, then he clutched his chest and Tommy shoved him sideways. In a poor attempt to stand up, Phil grabbed Tommy’s ankle.

Tommy, please. There’s nothing you can do. Schlatt is dead. We won. We’re safe.

Tommy stomped on Phil’s hand and nearly doubled over at the pain in his calf. One of the other figures reached for his arms and Tommy launched fire at them.

Niki dodged away, clutching her neck and collar.

Tommy spun and slammed his fist into the jaw of another hero—a new one he hadn’t fought before. They crumpled. He grabbed their palm as they fell and flushed it against the front door’s scanner.

Tommy threw open the heavy door and spilled out onto the street.

This time, he called upon his wings, they were easier to control, it felt more natural. Somehow.

As they ripped from his back the doors reopened behind Tommy. He took off and someone’s hand latched around his foot, wrenching him back down into the concrete.

Phil hissed in sympathy and touched a gentle hand to Tommy’s back when he was too slow to respond.

“I’m sorry,” Phil said, hand landing more firmly on Tommy’s back. “I don’t mean to hurt you but you can’t leave. It’s not safe.”

Tommy smacked Phil with his wings and flicked his forearm forward to summon his sword. He rolled onto his back and swiped at Phil.

He hadn’t expected to hit so easily.

Tommy made a deep slice across Phil’s chin and cheek. It bled quickly and steadily. Unfortunately, Tommy was more phased than Phil.

Phil lunged at him and Tommy slashed again. As Phil dodged his strike more people burst outside. Tommy used Phil’s dodges to create more distance. He stood and grimaced at the rotting ache in his leg.

“Mate, please, whatever you think you can do is not worth it. And we can help you. Wilbur is alright, he knew what could happen when he went after you.”

I love you and I’m worried about you.

Tommy blanked.

“You’ve been through so much Tommy, you deserve to relax now.”

Tommy threw his sword at Phil, knowing it would disappear, and as the man yelped and tried to dodge it, Tommy turned and made his escape.

A net went flying past Tommy, hitting his wing but not catching.

Pricks.

**********

Techno felt like a failure. He felt like an awful hero, a terrible brother, and an even worse friend.

First, he’d failed to protect Tommy when Schlatt attacked.

Second, he hadn’t been allowed to assist in retrieving Tommy because Phil had deemed him too injured.

And third, Tommy escaped under his watch and figured out what was wrong with Wilbur.

He hadn’t done anything right. Nothing. Nothing important. He failed the three most important tasks he’d been given all in a row and all within days of each other.

One resounding thought echoed in Techno’s stupid head over and over, and it was that he was eternally grateful Wilbur had been assigned to Tommy and not him.

Now, instead of being asked to help track Tommy down, Phil told him to stay with Wilbur. Phil had obviously finally realized that Techno wasn’t capable of handling the risky, strategic tasks.

Wilbur was easier. Wilbur was independent. Techno could take care of Wilbur.

Or—fuck—so he thought. But really, he’d let Wilbur go to Tommy all alone. And Wilbur got tortured.

When Techno stormed into Wilbur’s room he’d almost forgotten that Sam would be there. Charlie went after Tommy with Phil and a few others.

“Can you leave?” Techno asked him.

Sam gave him a sympathetic frown. “I can. Just gave him more painkillers so you shouldn’t have to do much.”

Good, good. Techno would probably fuck it up and send bleach into his IV.

Sam left the room and Techno stood over Wilbur, who had been moved to a hospital bed instead of the operating table.

They were prioritizing catching Tommy, worried about what he’d do to Schlatt’s allies.

Wilbur’s tired hand found its way to Techno’s. Techno sat in the seat next to Wilbur’s bed and slumped forward. He wrapped his arm awkwardly around Wilbur and leaned his forehead into Wilbur’s stomach.

“It’s good to see you awake,” Techno said.

Techno had been immediately watching over Tommy. They took Wilbur back unconscious. This was Techno’s first time seeing him since he’d been bloody and tortured in that dingy room.

“Are you okay?” Wilbur asked telepathically.

Techno sat up more, keeping his arm somewhat over Wilbur.

“Don’t even start.”

“What?”

“You can’t ask if I’m okay after you’ve been tortured—that’s like—it just doesn’t work that way.”

Wilbur looked thoughtful and Techno knew that he was about to say something a little too wise for Techno’s patience right now.

To avoid this awkward interaction, Techno engineered a new one.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he asked Wilbur. “You could have easily taken someone with you. Or told us the plan in person.”

“You would have said no,” Wilbur reasoned, “and I know these kinds of groups, those kinds of places. I knew what I was getting—”

“But you didn’t. What if he had killed you on the spot? How would—then we’d have lost you, and Tommy—God he’d just be a mess and then he’d be there alone.”

“I knew Schlatt wouldn’t kill me. They never do, Tech, not when they have such a good opportunity for information… and fun.”

“I just—” God, why couldn’t Techno speak today? How is he fucking up words. He’d been doing words since he was at least two. Right?

He breathed.

“Wil, you were still injured from the first fight and you barely had any time to think. It was like you hadn’t changed at all since your early stages of heroism.”

Wilbur scowled. As much as he could with half his face covered.

“I can admit that it was a decision made in desperation, but Techno, I am very good at what I do and the last thing I’d want is to risk Tommy’s safety.”

“I don’t mean to discredit your skill,” Techno said gently. “And it was successful, you did so well, Wil, but you can’t throw yourself into things like that.”

Wilbur shrugged. “Maybe not always.”

Techno clenched his jaw and simply pulled himself further over Wilbur to wrap him in a hug.

“Okay, something is wrong with you.”

Techno let out a tired breath.

“Aren’t you, like, not even officially off bedrest?”

“Shhh.”

“Does Phil know you didn’t go back to bed?”

“Shhh.”

“At least climb up here or something.”

**********

This was a good familiar feeling. Explosives in his hands, heat at the tips of his fingers. It was a bit awkward in a hospital gown… but he’d cut it to t-shirt size and had shorts. It was the best he could do.

Where should Tommy go first? He had to get to Amethyst and Tiny before they were shipped off to Pandora. It would be a kinder sentence, would it not? That’s what he was going to tell Wilbur when he washed the blood off his hands in their kitchen sink.

Actually, he should blow up that damned table and torture room.

If the heroes were smart, they’d focus on Wilbur and get him all healed up. It would leave Tommy enough time to do his business, then he’d be all done and they could try to rehabilitate him as much as they need to.

Though, he was starting to doubt that they could.

Tommy, after all of this, came to the realization that he was nowhere near as good as Wilbur. He fully intended to murder a couple of people and there was barely an ounce of guilt on his conscience.

Sure, he’d feel a bit bad. They were probably just doing their job like he had all those times. But they had to know who he was. And who in their right mind crossed Atra?

Other than Schlatt.

Tommy squeezed the grenade in his hand, fist shaking with rage. He blew out a ragged breath and continued down the city catacombs. They eventually lead into Schlatt’s tunnels. And a few other sets of tunnels that Tommy didn’t care to deal with at the moment.

He also couldn’t care to handle his injuries. Who knew how much time he had before a hero found him. Or another villain.

Well, if another villain found Tommy they’d ask what he was doing. And if he chose to explain it, the chances were said villain would leave him merrily on his way.

Schlatt was the tyrant of the villain world.

Which—ha—which meant that the next most powerful, at least in terms of physical and magical power… was Tommy.

This made him pause.

He stood there in the dreary murk of the catacombs, realizing that he was the next most feared, most desired ally of the villain world. Sure, he didn’t run any organizations, he didn’t run a business. But he was Atra.

This was where he always wanted to get. But the possibility always seemed too foggy, too far, too fragile.

He didn’t think Schlatt would die soon enough for it to become real.

Tommy was the most powerful villain in the city.

In the country?

… the world?

It wasn’t just anybody that could wield unlimited powers. A few people were immune to various powers. Immune to pain, injury, illness, and almost immortal with the exception that they’ll die of natural causes one day.

But who else had unlimited magic like Tommy?

He laughed, a little wildly, shocked by himself.

Tommy lo—he liked Wilbur. But was Wilbur worth giving all of this up? The safety of being number one? Tommy was relatively likeable. He didn’t betray, he didn’t steal jobs, he didn’t rat other villains out.

Tommy could be the most powerful and he could stay on the good side of the villains. A neutral party. Maybe even between the villains and vigilantes. Maybe even a few heroes.

He could turn this thing into a network of—

“Atra?”

Tommy turned lazily to a familiar voice. “Ranboo?”

Ranboo was eccentric in their dress, almost as much as Schlatt was with his plans and personality. They swayed between villain and vigilante.. Questionable morals and motives, but Tommy had never had an issue with him.

“You’ve been gone a while,” they say casually.

Tommy shrugged. “What are you doing down here?”

“Investigating some suspicious activity in Schlatt’s area.”

Tommy’s face fell, eyebrows pulled together. “Who are you investigating for?”

“Alabaster.”

Tommy loosened up. He was on good terms with her. “That’s where I’m headed.”

Ranboo glanced at the grenade in each of Tommy’s hands. It must have looked a little pathetic, really. Two grenades and half a hospital gown. But to be fair, Tommy didn’t have that many stashes of equipment around the city anymore.

“You expecting a fight?” Ranboo asked.

Tommy shook his head. “Already finished that. I’ll explain what I feel like explaining, but I’m blowing his shit up.”

Ranboo blinked. “Is that a good idea?”

“He’s dead.”

Tommy watched amusedly as Ranboo’s mask stretched, his jaw falling open. They twitch their head, barely a shake. “Alright, uh, how do you know?”

“I was the one that did it, obviously.”

Tommy played the scene over and over in his mind when things got quiet. He’d begun to consider it his happy place.

“Really?” Ranboo sputtered. “I thought you two had an agreement. I thought you were gonna fight me for being here.”

Tommy scowled.

Which is when he realized he wasn’t wearing his mask.

“Guess we’ve all been misunderstanding.”

Tommy sighed and gestured Ranboo forward. “Come on, I’ll explain but I have heroes on my ass so let’s get moving.”

Leaving out all the details about Wilbur and the mask, Tommy told Ranboo that he had worked for Schlatt a little bit but never got along with the guy. He also said that the heroes had him for a while but he made it sound like he was being held hostage and escaped.

Gotta start reputation building early!

Well—that is, if Tommy decided not to go back to the heroes.

They reached Schlatt’s tunnels and Tommy took Ranboo further than they’d ever been before. Tommy guided him easily to the torture room, and without much explanation, popped the grenade and threw it in.

His dumbass was about to watch it explode before Ranboo grabbed him by the wrist and teleported them down the hall.

“What was that?” Ranboo shrieked.

Tommy stared dumbly back. “Forgot that explosions hurt.”

“What?”

“Listen, I have another grenade and I want to take it further in somewhere. I’m thinking his office. You coming?”

Ranboo hesitated. “What if there are people?”

Tommy waved a hand, “Nah, the heroes were here, they’ve all dipped for a while.”

“Then… okay? But let me snoop around a bit before you blow it up.”

“Right, fine, whatever. But we’ll have to get out quickly after I do it because the heroes will know this is me.”

“And if this whole place collapses?”

Tommy shrugged.

Ranboo hesitates before nodding, “Yeah, sounds about right coming from you.”

They walked further in, less than carefully, because Tommy was certain they had all left. Which is why it was such a surprise to hear shuffling from inside Schlatt’s office.

Tommy’s first fearful thought was that Schlatt was alive.

That he’d tricked them.

So when he lugged the door open with anguished energy and saw Philza Minecraft, he froze with his jaw hanging open.

“Bye!” Ranboo said, disappearing with a pop.

“Bastard,” Tommy mumbled, still staring at Phil.

Phil seemed calm, not at all shocked that Tommy was there. He glanced down at Tommy’s injured leg and then back up at his weary face.

“What are you doing, mate?”

“I’m about to toss a grenade in here so I’d leave if I were you.”

Phil still didn’t seem surprised. He finally clocked the hand Tommy was hiding behind his back. Tommy pulled it in front of himself to show off the grenade.

Phil hummed. “I thought maybe you were here to look for something.”

“Nope. Just cleaning up.”

“There are civilian apartments above this.”

“The walls are strong.”

Phil’s expression soured into something stern—distasteful? Then he looked Tommy over again and it melted into something worried.

“Mate,” he said gently, “you’re hurting a lot right now, and this isn’t going to help.”

“No, no, I’m gonna feel a lot better when everything he created is gone.”

“Like this? By hurting people?”

“Hurting him.”

“No,” Phil said sternly, “you will hurt the people living above this.”

When Tommy shrugged and fiddled with the grenade, Phil took a step forward. Tommy didn’t step back, he wasn’t about to act afraid.

“They have loved ones that are going to feel like you do. They’re going to be angry, and devastated that you hurt their friends and family.”

“I don’t care about them.”

Phil frowned. “Don’t you wish Schlatt had cared? Wouldn’t you have given anything to stop Wilbur from being hurt like that? That’s how they’re going to feel.”

Tommy bristled. “I don’t care about Wilbur.”

“Tommy,” Phil said knowingly, “I think Wilbur is probably the only person you’ve had the choice of caring about.”

“I don’t care about him.”

“He’s trying to get here, you know,” Phil said, taking another step. “I told him he’s not well enough and he’s still trying to escape and get here.”

“Don’t care.”

“Well, if you did care, just know that he would be heartbroken to hear that you’d blown up the base of innocents’ homes.”

Tommy couldn’t deny that.

“If I throw this at you will you let it kill you to teach me a lesson?” Tommy asked, tossing the grenade between his hands.

“Wilbur will be so much more desperate to catch you. He’ll be so worried.”

“Wilbur can fuck right off,” Tommy snapped. “Next to Schlatt I am the most powerful villain in this city. Maybe this whole country.”

“You could probably do a lot of good with that power.”

“You wouldn’t like what I want to do with this power.”

“Maybe you haven’t thought it all through yet,” Phil took another step, “and that’s something we can talk about.”

Tommy knew Phil was easing his way closer. Tommy was also confident he could get away if he needed to. So when Phil took another, final step, to stand right in front of him, Tommy wasn’t worried.

“Have you ever thought about a dream? Some life goal you’d like to achieve?”

Tommy scoffed, letting his fiery hand smoke. “We’re not doing this, get out of my way or get exploded, prick.”

“This lack of sympathy that you have,” Phil started quietly, “comes from trauma. And you will be much happier when we can work through it.”

“Fuck off with your therapist bullshit!” Tommy fumed, shoving Phil away. “Fuck off—fuck off!”

Phil’s hands hovered in a placating gesture. He watched Tommy’s face, dipping his head when Tommy glared at the floor.

“What were your plans for after this? Where would you go for medical help? Where would you stay? How would you eat?”

“Phil if you don’t shut the fuck up I’m going to pop this grenade with you in there.”

Phil smiled sadly but Tommy understood it to be smug. “You’ve threatened that many times and I know you won’t.”

“I will.”

“Then do, mate.”

Tommy ground his teeth together so harshly his head pulsed.

In a flash of fury he grabbed the pin of the grenade.

And a new palm wrapped around his wrist, wrenching the hand away. Tommy turned his head back and went rigid, seeing Wilbur’s face. His unmasked face.

It was scarred, red, and puffy. He shouldn't be out of bed. That operation should have taken hours—it hadn’t been that long. Had it? Wilbur should have needed days to recover.

Wilbur reached around Tommy’s middle to pluck the grenade easily out of his hand. He tossed it to Phil who caught it with a hiss. Then Wilbur let go of Tommy’s hand, allowing him to turn so they could face each other.

“How are you here… right now?” Tommy whispered.

“Mine wasn’t fastened very well. Hadn’t had time to settle. And I didn’t let them keep me in recovery.”

Phil sighed, “Wilbur.”

“Phil, can you leave us?” Wilbur asked.

With great hesitance, Phil agreed. “Don’t take too long.”

Tommy stepped away from Wilbur. Only one step.

“Easy.”

“How are you talking? Doesn’t it hurt?”

Wilbur shook his head. “We’re not talking about that right now.”

Tommy clamped his teeth down on his cheek and took another aching step back. Wilbur stepped with him, deliberately and slowly.

“Don’t run from me please.” Wilbur looked him over. “I’m never going to hurt you.”

“I know,” Tommy said quickly.

Wilbur deserved to know that Tommy trusted him—that he wasn’t afraid of Wilbur. He deserved that at least after everything Tommy put him through.

Wilbur frowned but schooled his expression back to neutrality. “You were about to throw a grenade at Phil.”

Tommy’s chest collapsed, squishing his heart between sharp ribs.

“I’m—I’m sorry—” he took a panicked step back, “fuck, Wil—”

He’d almost tried to kill Wilbur’s—father? Adopted father? Family.

“Easy, easy,” Wilbur soothed. “Please don’t run, I’m not mad at you.”

Oh God oh god, Wilbur was just trying to catch him now. He was pissed but of course if he acted pissed Tommy would bolt—oh fuck, Tommy had just lost everything.

“No, no,” Wilbur whispered, “look at me, I’m right here for you. Okay?”

Tommy could still have things, right? Even if he didn’t have Wilbur anymore, he still had the power of being the most potent villain. He could still procure everything he wanted. He could still be happy. It wasn’t all a waste.

He didn’t suffer through Schlatt for nothing.

And… and he didn’t need Wilbur.

“Tommy… kid, I didn’t expect you to be a perfect citizen right away. It’s okay, this is what the rehabilitation program is for.”

Kid.

“Did you know that I was a villain?” Wilbur asked.

Tommy looked up, startled by how close they were again.

“No,” he said tentatively.

“I was. The only other young enough to be rehabilitated.” Wilbur closed the gap between them so he could reach out if he wanted to. “Gave Phil a whole lotta hell. Gray hairs.”

Tommy might have smiled if he wasn’t fighting back tears.

“I was… half cooperative by the time Phil took Techno in. Techno wasn’t a villain but he was a uh, troubled teen? I guess? We bonded. Helped me a lot. Helped him.”

How could Wilbur sound so casual right now?

“But my point is,” he restarted, hand hovering over Tommy’s forearm, “that I fought Phil. I escaped… a few times actually. Hurt other people, hurt myself. I was a lot of trouble but Phil had a lot of patience. And love.”

Just as Wilbur’s hand touched down Tommy pulled away another step.

Wilbur took a deep breath, keeping his face neutral when Tommy expected it to appear wounded.

“And look at me now. I’d trust Phil and Techno with my life. And Charlie. I feel safe—you know, safe as a hero can be. But I feel fulfilled.”

Wilbur was a villain. And he was so… good. He was good and he seemed happy and in control and—like he said—fulfilled.

“This is not the end, Tommy. There is no threshold for how much of a villain you have to become before I give up on you. It’s not happening.”

“What if I had hurt Phil?” Tommy asked with a slight rasp.

Wilbur chuckled, short and fond, “I dropped a crane on him once, so… step up your game I guess.”

Tommy loved this too much to pretend he wanted power. He loved the way Wilbur bantered with him, and joked, and teased, and matched Tommy’s energy. He was so easy—easy to be with and listen to and exist by.

Tommy loved Wilbur too much to pretend he wanted anything else.

“Wilbur I—I have this chance at so much power. I don’t want to be weak.”

“Is it power that you want, or is it safety?”

Tommy pressed his teeth together briefly. “I want to be happy. That’s all. But this is such an—an opportunity. I could have anything I want.”

“But all you want is happiness…”

Tommy sputtered, “Well—yeah, but, I can get that if I was safe where nobody could cross me. I could have all the food, allies, and resources I need. I wouldn’t have to suffer through work and dealing with,” he hesitated, “rehabilitation.”

“You can have all of that for free with me.”

Bastard.

“I don’t want to feel weak,” Tommy said with shaky finality.

“You don’t have to get rid of your influence. You still have your powers. Maybe one day you’ll tell everyone who you were. Scare the evil out of those villains.”

Tommy made an uneasy, tired sound. It was supposed to be a sigh. It could have come out a whine.

“So, who were you?” Tommy asked, desperate for a minute to breathe.

Wilbur flashed a grin that didn’t suit his face. A dramatic smirk, one of a villain, that was for sure.

“I was all of them. I was Siren, I was Banshee, I was Vatis and Visager.”

Tommy blinked. “You were stealing powers.”

“A new villain each time.”

Tommy’s mouth hung open, incredulous.

“I mean, obviously there were other villains in my era. And I certainly wasn’t the most powerful. But can you imagine the shock of the heroes when they found out I made up at least four of their top ten most wanted?”

“That’s so sick.”

“No,” Wilbur said quickly, “not really. Don’t start seeing me as some kind of inspiration.”

“But—”

“No. I was miserable. I was lonely and destructive and I didn’t know what I wanted. I was angry, always. It was miserable.”

It was miserable, but Tommy didn’t realize that there were people out there who… weren’t miserable.

That was a bit wild.

Tommy never thought about how okay some people were.

And he could be there too. Apparently.

“Tommy,” Wilbur tried, reeling him back in with a touch to his shoulder, “you’re so tired. And you’re hurt. And you are miserable. So I’m gonna do what Phil did for me, alright? I’m going to love you.”

Tommy winced, about to protest, but Wilbur held both of his shoulders.

“I love you. And I’ll love you when you drop construction equipment on me, or throw grenades at me—”

“No—no I’m not gonna do that—”

“Then I’ll love you when you escape. Even if you disappear for months. And I’ll love you when you change your mind again—”

“Wil,” Tommy huffed, losing his composure.

“And I’ll love you when you scream in your sleep and when you struggle to eat—”

“That was once—”

“And when you feel weak and when you have a bullet in your calf.”

“Okay! Okay,” Tommy dipped his head as the first tear fell. “I get it.”

Wilbur tugged him in quickly but gently. Tommy let his face fall against Wilbur’s chest, and his arms hung loosely at their sides.

“Scared me so bad,” Wilbur murmured.

Those words made Tommy hug him back lethargically. “I was so angry.”

“I know,” Wilbur swiped back Tommy’s hair. “But it’s all fine now.”

Tommy breathed deeply, trembling in Wilbur’s arms.

“There should be a car outside by now,” Wilbur whispered. “I’d Like you to let me carry you.”

“No,” Tommy said, cringing. “That’s too much.”

“A gurney?”

“That’s worse,” Tommy hissed. Then he regretted it. “Wait—”

“Guess I’m carrying you then.”

As Wilbur tried to pick him up Tommy swatted at him. Wilbur paused, somewhat concerned, mostly fond.

“How about I carry you on my back until we get outside? Then, maybe, if you can do it well enough, you can hobble into the car.”

Tommy groaned. “Fine. Fine. Whatever.”

When Tommy had his arms wrapped around Wilbur’s neck and shoulders, and the pressure off his legs, he couldn’t keep his eyes open.

They were about to exit the tunnels when Wilbur stopped.

“It’s not far… I can just carry you the rest of the way, Tommy.”

Tommy grumbled.

“Hm?”

“Fine,” Tommy relented, “just be quick.”

What Wilbur did not mention was that the “car” was a whole ass ambulance.

“Wil.”

“Sorry Tommy.”

“You hate me.”

“You’ll live.”

“I’m not even that hurt.”

“We’ll see.”

Phil was standing next to the ambulance. His eyes turned away from—oh, that was Charlie—and they widened, seeing Tommy on Wilbur’s back. Then he smiled, relieved, assured.

“You’re a bastard,” Tommy mumbled.

“Okay, kid, just relax.”

Tommy was efficiently packed into the ambulance.

Phil forced Wilbur to sit down and be treated during the trip too.

**********

Wilbur and Tommy stayed together in a room near Charlie’s office. Phil insisted that Wilbur be treated and watched, but Wilbur argued that he needed to be there for Tommy. And that everyone else would “just piss him off and make him snap again”, which nobody doubted.

Wilbur quickly took note of the people Tommy liked the best. After Wilbur himself, Techno. Tommy liked Techno, Tommy expected honesty and composure from Techno. He didn’t expect to be smothered and he realized Techno had a strict honour code.

After Techno, Tommy was starting to like Charlie. Tommy was, unsurprisingly, wary of doctors. But Charlie was very careful with Tommy’s boundaries, health, and humour. Once Charlie figured out what kinds of comments about Tommy’s health annoyed him or made him feel exposed, he was able to match the kid’s humour perfectly.

Tommy was warming up to Phil and certainly liked him more than Sam or Niki. Everybody else was a nobody that Tommy wanted nothing to do with. Ever.

But that didn’t stop some of the others in the tower from being worried about him, wanting to meet him—because Wilbur could never shut up about him.

Wilbur and Charlie kept them away. Meanwhile, Tommy complained about “not knowing those fucks” and having “beat the shit out of half of them”. He thought they were all just curious to see who Atra was.

“They just want to see me beaten,” he mumbled as Charlie redressed his leg.

“No,” Wilbur sighed, “Quackity, for one, let me take his power to go save you and didn’t tell Phil. He just wants to meet the kid I risked my ass for.”

“They all just want to see my face and tattoos.”

“Sam just wants to see you healthy.”

“Fuck that.”

Charlie finished wrapping Tommy’s leg, leaving him free to swing his feet up onto the bed. He leaned back, watching Charlie clean up.

Wilbur waited for Charlie to leave before starting the dreaded conversation.

“So, what’s going on in your head right now?”

Tommy flicked the blankets back over his legs and shrugged. “Probably just what you’d expect.”

Wilbur nodded. “Do you feel safe, at least?”

Tommy scowled. “Yeah. Now that Schlatt’s dead.”

“Phil said you killed him.”

“Fuck yeah I did.”

“Tommy…”

“I’m not sorry.”

Wilbur nodded solemnly. “I know. Would you have felt bad for hurting Phil?”

Tommy blinked. “Hurting him? No. If he died I—”

Tommy hadn’t exactly considered that his grenade would kill Phil. Which was a bit wild. Because grenades were deadly but Phil was Phil.

“If he died I’d—yeah, I don’t know.”

Wilbur nodded again, slow, deliberate. It was threatening. “That is my dad, Tommy.”

Tommy cringed, his heart stuttered. “I’d feel bad for you…”

“I know you’re going to struggle with empathy. This is to be expected, okay? I’m not mad about it, especially not since I was like that too. But, Phil is my dad, adopted, but he’s family. And Techno is my brother. You don’t get a pass on hurting them.”

“But everyone else is fair game?” Tommy joked.

Wilbur must have caught his nervous undertones because he exaggerated his chuckle. “Yeah, yeah, sure. Grenade ‘em all.”

A soft silence eased Tommy against his pillow.

“What were you thinking when you saw me in that mask?” Wilbur asked, throttling the peace.

“I thought that I needed to hurt someone or I was going to explode,” Tommy admitted. “I couldn’t just do nothing.”

“... But what did blowing Schlatt’s shit up do to help me?”

“I don’t know,” Tommy said. “Never claimed it was logical. I was gonna go after Tiny, Amethyst, and Wraith before they got shipped to Pandora.”

“Revenge and anger is a hard one to work through, that’s for sure,” Wilbur said. “But I’m wondering what you thought about that mask. On me.”

Tommy inclined his head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Did you feel like it was your fault?”

Tommy laughed.

Wilbur did not.

“Oh—wait you’re serious.”

“Tommy?”

“It was my fault.”

Wilbur’s mouth hung open slightly and he was leaning forward in his bed, feet slotted neatly on the ground.

He stood and walked to Tommy, pinching between his eyebrows, and then he sat by Tommy with a sigh.

“You got kidnapped, was that your fault?” Wilbur asked.

“No… I don’t think so.”

“And—God—you told him to put the mask on you and he didn’t listen. How was that your fault?”

“It’s—it’s more like I should have played him. I’m smart enough I just… I don’t know I was all muddled and he got the better of me. I should have been able to trick him or fight him or something.”

“You told him to put the mask on you instead.”

Ah. Wilbur was going to be stuck on this for a while, wasn’t he?

“Yeah.”

“Why would you do that? Didn’t we talk about that?”

“Wilbur I thought it was obvious after all of this, but I care about you too.”

Wilbur huffed and grinned, he lay back with Tommy and tucked him into his side. Wilbur rested his cheek on the top of Tommy’s head.

“That’s some progress.”

“Shut up.”

The arm around Tommy placed a hand in his hair. “You can’t do that. You can’t put yourself in danger for me, even if it didn’t work, just don’t try it.”

“But you didn’t deserve that.”

“Tommy,” Wilbur said, the shock in his voice surprising Tommy, “you didn’t deserve it either.”

Tommy sputtered to save himself, “I know! I know—I just meant that you… you really didn’t deserve it.”

“Tom—”

“No. You did so much for me and you had come to me, injured, and disobeyed Phil, and you let yourself get caught—and now I know how far you’ve come after everything—”

Wilbur's hand landed over Tommy’s mouth, squishing his cheeks.

“I’ll cry. I’m going to cry.” Wilbur grunted out a stressed, but dramatic breath. “You can’t do that. I know you don’t understand but I’m going to say it again and again. I can handle what I throw myself into, okay? I knew what could happen when I came for you. It’s not your job to protect me.”

Tommy pulled Wilbur’s hand away. “Doesn’t mean I can’t, though.”

Wilbur’s other arm wrapped around Tommy and he turned towards him more. “We’ll work on it. You’re gonna see soon enough why you shouldn’t do that. Not only because I don’t want you to, but because it’s not logical anyway, okay?”

“Challenge accepted.”

“Oh God.”

There was another, more secure bout of soft silence as Wilbur stayed koalad around Tommy. Eventually Tommy rolled a bit to hug him back, leaning against him cautiously.

“How does your face feel?” Tommy asked.

Wilbur pulled Tommy all the way on top of him, making Tommy grumble.

“My face is fine. Wasn’t as bad as yours, honestly. It hadn’t been put all the way on, and it hadn’t been there long enough to…”

“Rot.”

“Yeah.”

“Were you scared?”

Wilbur hesitated, and Tommy felt a frown against his head. “Why do you ask?”

Tommy shrugged. “Just wanna know.”

“So you can feel even guiltier? I don’t think so, kid.”

“I—” kid, “so you were scared.”

“I was scared for you. I didn’t want you to see that. I was scared that I wasn’t going to be able to keep my composure and… and I really didn’t toward the end there.”

“If I’m not allowed to feel guilty, neither are you.”

Wilbur smiled. “Seems fair to me.”

Tommy turned his head the other way and wormed both arms around Wilbur’s back instead of his shoulders.

“Why do you call me kid all of a sudden?”

“Do you not like it?”

He never would have before. Kid used to be annoying. Kid used to a term of belittlement. Stupid kid, damn kid, dirty kid, greedy kid.

Wilbur just said it like it was. Wilbur chose kid instead of Tommy’s name to… to what?

“It’s just a nickname, don’t think too hard about it.”

Tommy clicked his mouth shut. Then open it again for a few seconds.

“I don’t mind it,” he decided eventually.

“That’s great because the other option was gremlin and I didn’t think you’d go for it—”

“Fuck off fuck off fuck off—”

“Okay!” Wilbur shielded himself from Tommy’s lazy slaps. “Listen, we have more to talk about.”

“Not if I fall asleep, we don’t.”

“I’ll just have to keep talking so you can’t,” Wilbur said, tapping Tommy’s back in an annoying rhythm. “I hate to say it, but you’re going to have to keep your power suppressor on for longer..”

The weight of the bracelet didn’t seem so bad at the moment.

“Whatever.”

“Oh. Okay… I was also thinking about next steps when things settle down again.” Wilbur’s hand flattened over Tommy’s back. “Did you ever finish school?”

If Tommy could see Wilbur’s eyes he’d glare.

“No. Do not make me go back to school.”

“How far did you get?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“It doesn’t have to be a public school. We can find online classes and private tutors.” Wilbur moved his hand in gentle circles. “But if you got pretty far it’s up to you.”

“Can you quit that?” Tommy snapped, feeling guilty immediately after.

Wilbur’s hand froze. Then he tapped on Tommy’s back like a piano. “This?”

“Yes.”

Wilbur removed his hand and kept his arms casually around Tommy instead. “We’ll get there someday,” he teased carefully.

Tommy grumbled something incoherent.

“But seriously, how far did you get?”

Tommy turned his face directly into Wilbur’s chest, hoping to muffle his own words. “Stopped before eighth.”

Wilbur nodded. “That’s not too bad, honestly. I won’t make you go through all of highschool if you really don’t want to, but we’ll see what kind of level you’re at.”

“All I need is to be able to read and write.”

“I wouldn’t say that’s all.”

“This is why villainy is good.”

“Don’t even,” Wilbur said, exasperated.

Wilbur’s hand landed instinctively on Tommy’s head again, he didn’t notice that he’d done it even after a few seconds of playing with the hair.

“Wil.”

“Hm?”

“You’re really clingy, aren’t you?”

Wilbur paused and took his hand away again. “Sorry, sorry. You really don’t like it?”

“No I… do?”

“But you keep asking me to stop.”

“I do.”

“So…?”

“I don’t know.”

Wilbur hummed. “That’s alright. Everything’s messy right now. We can figure out this ‘clingy’ stuff another time. Let’s keep talking about school!”

“Please. Anything else.”

“Let’s talk about that diet Charlie made because you’re intolerant to potatoes—”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Let’s talk about what’s gonna happen in your first appointment with Venus—”

“Wilbur, I’ll grenade you.”

“Let’s talk about—wait, hey, let’s talk about that villain you were with when Phil found you.”

“Oh,” Tommy blinked. “Yeah I barely know them. Works for Alabaster. I just let him tag along I guess.”

“So, not an ally?”

“No.”

“That’s good.”

The next peek of silence was different from the last few. Wilbur was building something up. And he was taking too long.

“What is it?”

Wilbur huffed. “I sort of tried to ask already, but I know you’re not okay right now.” Tommy didn’t like where this was going. “You can tell me about it, you know? About being in that room. Back with him. And having to watch what he did.”

Tommy readjusted the way he lay on Wilbur to stall for time.

“Don’t really want to right now.”

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want you to hold on to this.”

Tommy bit the inside of his cheek before forcing a chuckle. “Wil, honestly, I don’t remember how I felt.”

“Oh.”

“I can see the images, and they’re not pretty, but everything else is kinda dull.”

“Right…”

“I don’t think I could describe it if I tried.” Tommy scrambled to ease Wilbur’s worry, “But that’s kinda good right? That I feel disconnected from it?”

“I don’t know if I’d say that. But it’s alright. We’ll uh, we’ll leave that for another time.”

“Yeah, can you shut up already? I’m trying to process and shit.”

“Oh! That reminds me,” Wilbur reached over to the bedside drawer, trying not to dislodge Tommy. “Your other therapist that I haven’t told you about yet suggested starting a bullet journal—”

“Wilbur.”

Wilbur revealed a dark red journal and opened it up.

“So it’s like a diary but it’s bullet points and you can decorate it however you want and make funky little trackers for your mood every day, your sleep, any pain you feel—”

“Wilbur.”

He flipped through empty pages.

“And I like the idea of a little ‘daily highlights’ page because you can focus on something good that happened every day even if it’s just small—”

“I have like ten therapists already.”

“And you can even track all the days you go to therapy—”

“Which will be none. Try me, prick.”

Wilbur halted. Then pressed one hand firmly into Tommy’s shoulders. “Listen here gremlin, you will be going to every single appointment if I can help it.”

“Okay fuck you and also no.”

“We’ll see. Anyway, this bullet journal thing—”