Chapter Text
The place Tommy wakes up in is definitely not the place he fell asleep in.
Gone is the small tent and the sound of crashing waves he’s grown used to at Logstedshire. Gone was the scratchy blanket, and the brisk wind that usually greeted him when he awoke.
Instead, the blanket covering him is warm and heavy, and the pillow doesn’t cave in under his head. As his bleary eyes clear, he sees a stone roof and walls surrounding him.
He wants nothing more than to sink back into the warmth and sleep, but he knows he should get up and figure out where the fuck he is.
Tommy sits up and throws the blanket off, immediately missing it. He stands up too fast and staggers, but he catches himself on the wall and steadies himself.
He’s not wearing his usual red and white shirt and brown pants. In their place is clothing of the same color, but different styles and they look a lot more worn out than his own, which is impressive, seeing how much damage his clothes have taken in the past few days. The cuffs of the jacket and pants are ragged, and patches of other fabric cover holes. But despite the wear and tear, they’re comfortable.
There are two beds in the room, the one Tommy had been in, and another one that’s empty, the blankets smoothed down neatly. There are a few chests scattered around the room, and when he opens one, it’s filled with stone and scraps of metal.
His stomach rumbles, and he remembers that he didn’t eat anything last night. Dream had been there, and he didn’t want to risk bringing anything out in case the masked man got any ideas.
First objective: find out where the fuck he is. Second objective: find some food.
He goes down the stairs to the first floor. It’s empty, and all the chests are full of stone and metal again. One of the doors has a lock on it, and he’s about to try and pick it with some of the metal scraps, but before he gets the chance, the front door lock beeps, and then it swings open.
“Tommy!” An achingly familiar voice calls out. “Tommy, are you awake yet?”
Tommy ducks under the stairs before the other person can see him, and he struggles to control his breathing which has suddenly sped up way too much.
Because the person standing in the doorway should not be standing there. He shouldn’t be alive, even.
Because the person standing in the doorway is his older brother, Wilbur, who he’s almost certain was dead the day before.
Tommy presses himself into the corner as Wilbur’s footsteps sound above him on the stairs.
“Tommy!” The should-be-dead man calls happily again, before stopping. “Tommy?” He says again, this time a hint of concern in his voice.
Tommy waits until the footsteps go to the opposite end of the stairs, and then makes a break for the door. He needs to get away, needs to think this through, he has to be dreaming, or maybe he’s going fucking insane, or-
The door is locked with a keypad, and a code he doesn’t know. He swears quietly, glancing between the lock and the stairs. He’s sure the maybe-Wilbur has heard his movements- it’s not a very big house, after all, so he only had a few seconds until the other person comes to check out the noise.
“Come on, what would Wilbur put as the fucking door code?” He mutters.
“Tommy, is that you?” Wilbur calls, and Tommy can hear him getting closer.
Panicked now, Tommy presses the first numbers that come to mind: 8008. The keypad beeps, the light flashes green, and Tommy pulls open the door and stumbles into the sunlight.
None of the surrounding area looks familiar. It’s not Logstedshire, and it’s definitely not L’Manberg. The grass and surrounding trees look half dead and scraggly, and in the distance a giant dome rises above the horizon, blocking the sun and creating a halo affect around it.
Tommy scans the area quickly, trying to decide which directions would be the best to run in.
A loud sound comes from somewhere behind the house, growing louder the longer he stands there. The wind picks up, throwing dust and his hair into his eyes
A huge black shape flies overhead, and Tommy stares, trying to figure out what it is. It doesn’t look like an animal or a mob, and it looks way too heavy to be using Elytra…
A hand grabs his arm and pulls him along, just as another loud sound comes from the black shape. It reminds Tommy of fireworks, and for a second all he can see is a podium, and yellow concrete, and the red robe of someone he thought he could trust. Then the ground starts exploding around them, and he’s pulled back into the house and squeezed against someone’s chest.
His brain blanks for a second, as the person buries their face in his hair, pressing him tightly to them and rocking softly back and forth. He tenses, but then sinks into the hug, feeling safe in the protection of the person’s arms. It’s the first time he’s been hugged in….a long time.
“Oh my Dome, are you okay?” Wilbur’s voice says from above him, sounding broken and so, so scared. “Did you get hit?”
Wilbur releases him from the hug, but keeps his hands on Tommy’s shoulders. His eyes scan Tommy’s body, looking for any indication that he’d been “hit”, whatever that means.
Tommy is very confused, and he has no clue what is happening. But the look in his brother’s eyes is familiar, and something in his chest tugs at the sight of the unhidden fear in the older man’s eyes.
“Uhh, no, I’m good,” he answers slowly.
Wilbur smiles, and Tommy thinks back to L’Manberg, the era before the election, when he and Wilbur were the closest they’d ever been. He can feel tears building up, but he blinks them away.
“You have to be more careful, Tommy,” Wilbur scolds, but Tommy can tell that he’s not that angry. “You know the helicopters patrol here this time of day.”
He definitely didn’t know that, but at least now he knows what the black things are called. “Helicopter” isn’t a word he’s heard before, and it doesn’t tell him a lot about what exactly it is, but he can talk without sounding like an idiot now.
“Sorry, Wilbur,” he says. “I was just...I wanted to see the sun.”
Wilbur’s smile turns more confused, but he doesn’t question it. “Okay,” he says. “Once the helicopter leaves, we should head to the church, okay? The Messiah said he has something to show us.”
Tommy blinks in confusion. Multiple words in that sentence did not make any fucking sense, but if he’s playing along with this dream or whatever it is, he supposes this is what’s happening.
“Okay,” he agrees, as if Wilbur doesn’t sound crazier than he did in Pogtopia.
Wilbur grins, and pulls him into another hug. This time, Tommy recipricates, taking every bit of comfort he can.
He would never admit it out loud, but he really did miss Wilbur. His older brother had practically raised him, and he’d been the one that stuck by Tommy’s side through thick and thin. And sure, Ghostbur was still around, but Tommy had trouble thinking of the shade as his brother. The ghost was too optimistic and avoided everything that would make him unhappy, and he wasn’t able to touch physical people. Wilbur had always been very affectionate, ruffling his hair, resting an elbow on his shoulder, high fives, and hugs.
Ghostbur couldn’t do that.
This Wilbur could.
Tommy finds himself smiling, and for the first time in a long time, he truly feels happy.
“Come help me bring this stone and metal downstairs, Tommy!” Wilbur said, already heading for the stairs.
He grins, and scrambles after his brother.
“By the way, did you cut your hair? I swear it was longer yesterday.”
The church is a large stone building past the giant dome. Tommy doesn’t have a lot of time to look at it, as his arms are shaking from the weight of the stone he’s carrying, but he’d be hard pressed to miss the giant white sign that read “We <3 Dome!”
He remembers that Wilbur had said something about a dome earlier, and starts to put the pieces together.
“Once we get this stuff to the tool cupboard, I’ll go raid the Dome,” Wilbur tells him as they enter the church. “The loot crates should have some good stuff in them.”
Now Tommy is confused again. There’s a church for the dome, and it sounds like it’s pretty important, if Wilbur is using it in the place of “God”, but they also raid it?
He’s broken from his line of thinking by a discordant note played on a piano. He winces, almost dropping the stone.
“Smoke! Stop fucking around with my piano!” A voice yells.
There’s a group gathered around the jankiest piano Tommy has ever seen. It look like it was thrown together in a junkyard, and he’s surprised it’s even able to be played.
The guy who’d hit the chord grins. Smoke, the other guy had called him. “I’m not doing anything to your piano.”
“You’re touching it right now,” Piano guy grumbles. And it’s true, Smoke’s hands are still resting on the keys.
“Hey, guys!” Wilbur says loudly, breaking up the argument. “Me and Tommy brought more stone!”
The girl who had been sitting on the floor next to the piano jumps up and takes some stone from Tommy’s arms.
“Awesome,” she says. “One of the walls is starting to decay, I’ll fix that up.”
“Thanks, Sofa,” Wilbur says. Tommy almost laughs at the name, but everyone else seems to think this is a normal thing, so he stifles it quickly.
“Hey, Tommy!” Piano guy grins. “You wanna do another duet? I’ve been practicing ‘Piano Man’ for this.”
Tommy blanks. “I don’t play instruments,” he blurts out, realizing too late that that’s the wrong thing to say.
Everyone stops what they’re doing to stare at him, and he shifts uncomfortably at all the eyes on him.
“Tommy...are you feeling okay?” Wilbur grabs the last of the stone in Tommy’s arms, hands it off to Smoke and leads Tommy to one of the many couches in the room. His brother’s hand goes to his forehead, and he’s reminded of when he was younger and had a fever.
He’s got to play this off before it looks too weird. “Of course I’m fine, bitch,” he snaps, shoving Wilbur’s hand away. He laughs, loud and fake, in a way that will hopefully convince them he’s fine. “It was just a joke, Big Dubs, you don’t have to be so uptight.”
His brother smiles, but it’s strained and Tommy knows he’s fucked up. “Okay, Tommy, I’m sorry. I was just worried, is all.”
“It’s fine, Big Man,” he says.
“So does that mean no duet?” Piano man asks, breaking the tension.
“Not right now,” Wilbur says. “We left the guitar back at home.”
Oh shit. Whoever this other Tommy is that he’s taken the place of can play guitar, a skill this Tommy is decidedly lacking in. His Wilbur had attempted to teach him when they were younger, but Tommy had always been too squirmy to listen to the lessons. At best he could strum a chord, but he feels like he’d need a bit more than that to do a ‘Piano Man’ duet, whatever ‘Piano Man’ was.
Wilbur clapped his hands. “Okay! Game plan for today. I’m gonna go on a run to the Dome, and get the loot crates. Does anyone know where Pebble and Lake Boy are?”
“They went on a food run,” Smoke answers, and Tommy is suddenly reminded of how hungry he is. “They should be back soon, as long as they don’t run into Fort Kickass.”
Everyone other than Tommy winces and mutter some curses about “Fort Kickass”.
“Okay. That’s good, we were running low on food.” Wilbur continues. “What’s our status on weapons?”
Tommy tunes out the rest of the discussion, going over the information he knows, trying to orient himself to this strange new reality.
He’s so deep in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice Wilbur watching him with a strange look on his face.
Tommy’s first instinct when he wakes up is to grab his gun.
He’s learned to wake up quickly, and as soon as he does, he knows something’s not right. The blanket is too scratchy, there’s the sound of waves, and his back hurts from whatever god-awful mattress is on this bed.
He’s on his feet in less than a second, hand shooting towards his hip, where his gun usually hangs, only to be met with nothing.
“What the fuck,” he mutters.
His eyes shoot up, and he scans the area quickly, taking in everything. There’s a strange wooden building over in the distance, but other than that there’s hardly any cover. The plantlife looks a lot less dead than usual, so this must be an area with less radiation- it’s far away from any monuments, that’s for sure. There’s a strange black construction with glowing purple...something inside of it.
He finds a sword in a chest near the bed, and brings it with him. He’s not as skilled with a sword as he with a gun, but he’s no slouch. Wilbur had made sure of that. And any weapon is better than being completely defenseless.
He ventures outside of the tent, ears open for any sound of gunshots or helicopters.
Tommy stays away from the purple substance, hoping there’s no radiation- he doesn’t have his hazmat suit, he’d lent it to Pebble yesterday so the other man could go on a food run.
He searches the wooden structure and finds it extremely easy to get into. There’s not even a door, let alone a lock, and he just walks straight in. Whoever’s kidnapped him is either an idiot or extremely powerful. Neither option sounded appealing.
“Tommy?” A voice comes from behind him.
He spins around, raising the sword, to find a man wearing a green hoodie with a mask covering his face. The mask shows only a black smiley face, and Tommy knows it’s not real, but it unnerves him anyways.
“Tommy, calm down,” the man says. “It’s just me.”
“Who the fuck are you?” Tommy snaps, keeping the sword raised. “Why do you know my name?”
The mask tilts to the side in a way that reminds Tommy way too much of Wilbur. “Tommy, I’m your friend. You forgot me?”
“Listen, bitch, I’ve never seen your stupid smiling mask before in my life. Now where the fuck am I?”
The man takes a step forward, but Tommy stands his ground. “Do you remember my name at least? Dream? Do you remember Tubbo? Wilbur?”
Tommy tenses at the names. “Never heard of a Dream. Are you part of Fort Kickass, then? That’s the only Tubbo I know.” He purposefully doesn’t mention Wilbur. Most people don’t know of their relation, and the brothers wanted to keep it that way.
Dream seems to falter a bit at that. “I...Fort Kickass? Tommy, I’m actually very confused here.”
“How do you think I feel?” Tommy retorts.
“Is this some sort of ploy to get back into L’Manberg?” Dream asks. “Tommy, I’m not stupid.”
“You could’ve fooled me,” he scoffs. “What the fuck is a L’Manberg?”
Dream shifts his weight between his feet, and Tommy thinks that things are about to get a lot more complicated.