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Sam was fine. He was perfectly fine after the whole egg incident. Sure, it shook him up a little, originally, but he was strong. He could brush it off.
He couldn’t brush off the bandages covering his arms. The way they stuck to the barely-healed skin, the way it stung under the weight of his jacket sleeves.
He couldn’t brush off how every time he closed his eyes all he saw was bright red. How he had slept less than two hours in the past week because of it.
He couldn’t brush off the voice, either.
Tommy was staring him down. His mouth was moving, he was saying something, but Sam couldn’t hear him over the screaming whisper inside his own head.
Kill him... Kill Tommy... Please do that for me..? I’ll reward you... It will make you feel better...
Sam blinked slowly, ignoring the flash of red.
“Uh, what?” He asked. The words felt like cotton in his mouth.
Kill Tommy… Take your sword and-
“I asked if you wanted some pie. Tubbo brought me some from Snowchester and I can’t eat it all.” Tommy said, with an eye roll. Sam pretended not to notice the edge of concern on the boy’s face.
“Oh.” Kill him... Use the Warden’s weapon... Or your trident... “Sure.”
“Great!” The concern disappeared in a moment, and Sam wondered if he had just imagined it. Tommy grabbed his arm and dragged Sam into the hotel. Er, the framework of the hotel. The floor was there, and support beams were running around and over them, but there were no walls or roof yet.
Tommy dropped down on the floor, sitting criss cross, and Sam followed suit, albeit a little more hesitantly.
We need Tommy gone… You need Tommy gone… He’s vulnerable right now, it would be easy…
Red. Red, the building was red, the floors were red, the walls were red. Walls? What walls? The walls of the egg? But he wasn’t in the egg, not anymore, how was he- how- he didn’t understand.
Do you think you’re more powerful than me?
Sam swallowed. He didn’t respond. Didn’t trust himself to.
You know you can’t keep fighting, just give in... Kill Tommy, and this will all be over...
There were no walls. He was in the hotel. The ground was concrete, not… Whatever the ground of the egg was. Sam was safe. Sam was fine.
Sam was going to be sick.
“-Said. ‘Course, I think he was lying and just wanted to visit me. He can be real clingy, you know.” Tommy was saying. Had he been talking this entire time? Sam didn’t know.
“Mhm… Yeah.”
“But it’s okay, in this situation, anyway, he’s a pretty good baker, you know, and I like pie.”
Sam nodded at that. His vision was going red again, and he had no way to stop it. He still half-expected to open his eyes and wake up, still in the egg, finding out that his ‘rescue’ was just an elaborate dream. Maybe a hallucination.
He was fine. He was perfectly fine.
Tommy’s voice cut through his thoughts again. “Hey, look at me for a second.”
Red, red. Red, the red of Tommy’s shirt, red of the carpet, red of Tommy’s eyes-
No, Tommy’s eyes weren’t red. They were blue. A little more grey than they used to be, but blue nonetheless.
“Stop doing that.” Tommy grabbed Sam’s hands.
“Doing what?”
“You’re scratching. At your bandages.” Was he? A glance down at his arms confirmed that, yes, he was. A few spots had small dots of blood on them, now. “You’re going to make it worse if you do that.”
Sam hummed in response, pulling his hands away from Tommy and folding his arms.
Tommy stared at him with red- not red, blue eyes.
“...Anyway,” He then proceeded to ramble about Tubbo and Snowchester.
You’re weak…
Shut up.
And scared...
Shut up.
Why keep fighting? You’re going to lose anyway…
“Shut up.” Sam growled through gritted teeth. Oh. oops.
Tommy, who had just been talking, immediately stopped. His eyes flashed with fear, and then hurt.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Sam said, quickly, dropping a hand onto Tommy’s knee for reassurance, “I didn’t mean- I wasn’t talking to you.”
Tommy scrunched his face up in confusion. “Then… Who were you talking to?”
Right. So Sam may not have told anyone he had been hearing the egg. Well, he mentioned to Puffy that it had been whispering to him while he was inside it, he just… Hadn’t said anything about what it did after that. And she didn’t ask. He didn’t want to tell them, either, mostly because it wasn’t a big deal.
It really wasn’t. Sam was strong, Sam could deal with it on his own. Sure, sometimes it was louder than the actual sounds around him, and sometimes he started seeing things that weren’t there, but it was fine. He could handle it.
“No one. Myself.” A pause, then he added, “Don’t worry about it.”
“You feeling alright, Sam?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not all messed up in the ‘ead?”
“...I’m fine.”
Tommy suddenly looked taken aback. “I thought we were friends, Sam.”
Red, red, red. Red, blood, flesh- that wasn’t even the egg talking, that was just his blurred mind spitting out images.
“I… We are.” It sounded slightly more of a question that he intended, but Tommy paid that no mind.
“Friends don’t lie to each other, Sam.”
Weak… Weak… Weak.
His head was spinning. He gritted his teeth.
“I’m not lying.”
“You know, when Tubbo touched the egg, he was crying and everything. He said it said horrible things to him.” Tommy’s voice was surprisingly quiet and subdued. Sam wasn’t sure he’d ever heard him talk in this tone. “Did it say anything to you?”
Weak… I could make you powerful… Just give in…
“No, it didn’t say anything.” Sam couldn’t look him in the eyes. Lying to the kid felt awful, but he had been through enough. He wasn’t going to put Tommy through more pain just because of a stupid egg. He could handle it himself.
Red, red, red, red. Red of the blood on his arms as he bit into them- it wasn’t on purpose, he didn’t want to. Red of the vines, wrapped around his limbs like snakes, pulling him closer, pulling him in. Red of Fran’s collar- Fran’s collar wasn’t red. Fran’s collar was yellow.
He wasn’t sure when he pushed himself to his feet. “I just remembered, I have some business to attend to.”
Tommy looked offended. No, he looked hurt, but Sam forced himself to interpret it as offended for his own sake of mind.
“I’m sure Tom Nook will be here soon to work on the hotel, you can give him some pie.”
“I can’t give him pie, he’s a robot, Sam-”
Sam’s legs were moving. He was at his house before he knew it. Before he knew anything, really, because he didn’t realize he had been walking- running?- there in the first place.
…
Join us… Join me...
...
The next few days were a haze. He hadn’t slept once, and it was getting to him. Dripping vines stretched and tangled across Sam’s base, and he couldn’t tell if they were real or not. He prayed to Ender that they were just hallucinations, because if not, he was screwed.
Funny, to pray that you’re hallucinating.
He had been hallucinating though, at least somewhat. Mostly from sleep deprivation, which should have been more concerning than it was.
For example, Dream had been wandering around Sam’s base as of lately, even though Sam knew for a fact he was still in solitary confinement in the prison.
Fake-Dream was currently perched on top of a row of chests, cleaning an axe that Sam was fairly certain belonged to Techno.
“If you let me out of prison, I could defeat the egg. Easily. Everyone would be safe again.” Most of what Fake-Dream said had to do with being let out of prison. To be fair, most of what the real Dream said was along the same lines.
“No you can’t. You barely even know the crimson exists.”
“Then tell me! I can defeat them, you know I can!” Fake-Dream was in front of him, now. The axe held steadily in his hand.
“You know I can’t do that. You’re dangerous.”
“I’m your friend!”
“You tried to kill Tubbo and Tommy. They’re kids.”
Fake-Dream didn’t have an excuse for that. Sam was quite certain it was because Sam himself wasn’t able to come up with any excuse for that, no matter what he tried. Nothing Dream had done was even kind of justified, not even in a messed up way.
Another wave of nausea washed over him. His arms were on fire, his chest constricted and he couldn’t breathe. It was all that stupid egg’s fault.
Weak… I can protect Tommy… Can protect Fran… Just give in…
The egg was going to kill him. Not on purpose, no, the egg wanted him alive, at least Sam thought it did, but he was fighting back. There were bits of blood-vine still trapped in his arms, and it was spreading through his bloodstream ever so slowly. It felt like he was slowly being ripped apart, piece by piece, agonizing and drawn-out.
Sam… Listen to me… Take off your mask, it will make you feel better...
He didn't know why he listened. Maybe the vines in his arm compelled him to, maybe it was the sheer exhaustion he felt, but he was willing to try it. He was honestly too tired to keep fighting against it anyway, and what harm could taking off his mask do?
Carefully, he slid the gas mask off of his face.
Throw it...
The mask skittered across the floor, landing somewhere across his base, but he wasn’t watching.
It didn’t make him feel better. The pain was still there, as was the exhaustion.
That’s better...
Fake-Dream started laughing. “You really are brainless, aren’t you? And here I thought Tubbo was the dumbest one on the server.”
“Don’t insult the kid.” Sam mumbled back.
“I’m not, I’m insulting you, you idiot. Don’t you realize what you’ve done?”
What had he done? Oh. Oh no. He needed that mask, it was literally the thing that kept him alive. A bad Redstone accident a few years back had left him with some rather nasty injuries, including some sort of issue with breathing regular air. The mask was the only thing that made him able to breathe regularly.
A sudden shock of pain had Sam onto his knees. Fake-Dream stood over him, the axe now slung over his shoulder, but Sam ignored whatever he was saying, focusing instead on taking desperate breaths, as if that would make it any better.
You could have been powerful… You’re weak...
The breathing troubles started all too quickly. Tears were welling up in his eyes, which was frankly ridiculous. Ender, was this how he died? Alone, suffocated to death by his own irrational behavior? That felt like a cowardly way to go, but he really didn’t have a better option.
At least no one would be there to witness his death. Tommy would have been horrified, but Sam had made sure to send Tom Nook out more and more often since the incident, since it kept the kid away from Sam. He hated seeing him like this.
Puffy was out dealing with her own issues, something about Technoblade, not that Sam had really been able to pay attention to her over the screaming whispers in his head.
And Ponk. Ponk was… Doing something. Sam didn’t know what. It was some building project that he insisted be kept a secret, so Sam had kept his distance. He would have kept his distance even if Ponk asked him to come close.
So here Sam was, lying on the floor. He had fallen over at some point and started… Twitching? Was this a seizure? Could someone have cognitive thought during a seizure? He didn’t know. It didn’t matter.
“Is this really how you’re going to die?” Fake-Dream crouched down next to him, the mask halfway off his head, the smirk evident on his face.
“Don’t… Don’t exactly… Have… Better opt’n.” He managed to spit back. Even his hallucinations were being rude to him, what jerks.
“Here lies Sam, accidentally asphyxiated himself.” Dream laughed. “That’s what I would put on the gravestone, anyway.”
“...R’lly?”
“Mhm. Maybe something about being a good builder, too.”
Despite everything, Sam snorted. “You’re defin’ly fake… The real Dream’d never… never…” he coughed. “Never com… Compliment me.” It was a pitiful imitation of a joke, but he tried. Sam had never been the best at off-the-cuff humor.
“And why would I?”
Sam’s eyes flicked down to the comms screen, the words blurry but still readable.
Sam?
Sam
Sammy
Sam U El
Samantha?
Sammito
Are you there
Did you die
…
I’m actually getting worried, dude, answer me
Who sent these? Puffy? Puffy didn’t call him dude… Or really any names other than “Sam”... But who else would message him?
The comm started to ring, and it took Sam at least fifteen seconds before he realized it was a call. Puffy was calling him.
The name on the screen didn’t look like Puffy, but it had to be her.
Sam let out a raspy breath as the comms connected. “H’llo? Puffy?”
“What? No, it’s not Puffy, it’s Tommy. Do I sound like- no, doesn’t matter. Where are you, man? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
The words didn’t register in Sam’s brain. “...Hi, Puffy. How are you..?” Ender, his vision was swimming.
Puffy hesitated before responding. “I’m okay, Sam. Sam, I need you to tell me where you are.”
“...I’m okay, too.” His eyes fell shut. It was easier to deal with when he couldn’t see, anyway.
“Okay, where are you?"
"I'm…" He paused, coughing again. Slowly, painfully, he opened his eyes. All he could see was red? "Egg? Can't be, though… You 'n Tommy… Got me out…" he was starting to doubt that part of his memory. That could have been part of the hallucination, too.
Sam was really dying, wasn't he?
He couldn't find it in himself to care.
At least, until he heard barking.
"Hi, Fran." Sam whispered. It was getting more difficult to breathe, now, his breaths blending in with the sound of fake-Dream’s wheeze laughing.
“Fran’s there? Are you at your house?” Puffy sounded worried. He didn’t want Puffy to be worried.
“‘M… Okay…” He could feel himself slipping.
“I was already heading that way. Sam, I need you to stay awake for me, yeah?”
“...Tired.” Was all he managed to get out. It was getting harder to speak.
“Do not fall asleep on me. Stay awake.”
“Why not?” Fake-Dream asked. His voice was so much clearer than Puffy’s, easier to understand, too.
“...Wh…”
“Why not sleep? You’ll feel better.”
“I… P’ffy says… Not to…”
“I don’t care what Puffy says,” Puffy’s voice cut in… Wait, huh? Why was Puffy speaking in third person? “I’m telling you to stay awake.”
Sam’s voice had been slowly getting more raspy the more he spoke, but this time, he couldn’t get words to come out at all. He wanted to listen to Puffy but his vision was getting darker and his throat hurt so badly.
“Sam? Sam, are you there?”
“Take... “ He couldn’t think, couldn’t focus. He needed to let them know, but couldn’t force the words out. “F… Fr’n…” Sam’s eyes fell closed again, and he must have passed out, because next thing he knew, someone’s hands were on his shoulder, shaking him.
“Is he dead?”
“Check for breathing. Do you know how to do that?”
“Of course I do- no, I don’t. How do I-”
“I’ll do it, go find his mask, quickly.”
Sam didn’t recognize the voices. It probably was just another hallucination, like Dream or the vines… unless the vines were real… but Dream couldn’t be, because he was still in prison… Right? He wasn’t sure anymore.
The hands were pulled off his shoulders and he could hear footsteps running off to somewhere. He felt a new set of hands, one on his chest, the other was fingers pressing against his neck- checking for a pulse, he figured.
“Where do I even look?”
“He can’t have gone far from it. If it’s not on the floor, he should have an emergency one… Somewhere?”
“I’ll check the chests.”
The hand that checked his pulse moved from his neck to his face, and Sam jerked away violently. He knew it was a hand, knew it was warm and alive, but some part of his brain was telling him that it was the cold, dripping vines from inside the egg, and that was freaking him out.
“Sammy?” Sam couldn’t place the voice. It was calm and familiar but he couldn’t recall who it belonged to. “Are you awake?”
“‘M ‘wake…”
“Where is your mask, Sam? What happened?”
“Told…” He tried to choke the words out, but was stopped by the person.
“Mask, Sam, where?”
Sam slowly opened his eyes, staring up at the person talking to them. Their mask was usually covering the light blonde hair, but right now it was pulled off of their head, and around their neck. “Y’rs… On…” He took a gasping breath. “You… Your neck.” Sam slowly reached up to gesture at it.
They grabbed his hand, dark eyes full of concern. “Not my mask, yours.”
“...My mask?”
“Your mask. You’re supposed to wear it at all times, doctor’s orders.”
Sam giggled. It hurt his throat. “I d’n’t… Have a- a doctor…”
“I’m your doctor, stupid.” The words didn’t have malice behind them, in fact, they had a sort of… Well, love was too strong of a word, but it was something along those lines. He recognized that tone, though, and the realization of who this was hit him.
He laughed again, but it came out as a painful wheeze. “Hi.”
“Sam? Are you listening at all right now? You’re not lucid right now, are you?”
They were still holding hands. Sam laced their fingers together then squeezed it lightly. “Hi… Ponk…”
Ponk stared at him for a second, then turned around and shouted, “Tommy! Did you find it yet?”
“P-” He coughed. “Ponky, I… I need…” The words weren’t coming out properly. “Fr’n…”
“Mask first, then Fran. How long has your mask been off?”
“Take… Take care… Of ‘er…” He closed his eyes once again.
Sleep...
Sleep did sound pretty good right now.
“Found it!” A voice shouted. There was the loud sound of shoes stomping across the hard floors as someone made their way over. “Sam, you Really need to organize your chests, man.” They said it with a laugh, but there was a sharp undertone of nervousness in it.
“You’re going to be fine, Sam.” Someone- Ponk said. Sam felt something being pressed against the lower half of his face, over his nose and mouth.
Unfortunately, that was the same time his mind went dark and he went unconscious.
…
Stop… You’re hurting us… Hurting Fran… Why won’t you just die… Just give in… We can save you...
...
Sam must have died and went to the Aether. That was the only explanation for the lack of whispers in the back of his mind, as well as the fact he didn’t feel like he was breathing in sandpaper.
It did not explain, however, the immense pain in his arms.
Sam sat up, only to be immediately pushed roughly back down into a lying position.
“No, stay there.” A deep voice said. He quickly ran through who it could be- not Puffy, not Tommy, not Ponk…
“Ranboo?”
“Not Ranboo. Technoblade.”
Slowly, he opened his eyes, and sure enough, the hybrid was sitting in a chair next to him, the usual red cape draped over his shoulders, though the golden grown was missing.
“Oh…”
“Do you know where you are right now? Ponk said you weren’t very lucid earlier.”
Sam took his time to look around the room. The walls were white with dark wooden accents, the windows were lined with wood too. There were a few chests and barrels on the floor, and a large axe leaned up against the wall. Well, they weren’t in Sam’s house anymore, that’s for sure.
“Uh… I don’t think I’ve ever been here before, but based on what Tommy’s said, I’m assuming this is your house?”
Techno chuckled. “Right, I probably should have asked a better question.
Sam just shrugged and sat up again. This time, he was pushed down more forcefully, Techno’s hand staying on his shoulder instead of immediately letting go.
“Look, as much as I’d love to get rid of you, Puffy said to keep you resting.”
“I can rest sitting up.” He wasn’t weak, he could survive just fine without Techno and apparently Puffy’s help.
“You basically just had major surgery. Your doctor friend wants you to stay lying down for at least another day.”
Sam shook his head, fighting against Technoblade. “Where’s Fran?”
“Downstairs with Phil. She’s safe, don’t worry.”
It was at that point Techno’s previous message had sunk in. “...Major surgery?”
Tommy’s voice cut through. Sam wondered how long he had been standing in the doorway. “You had vines in your arms and your breathing was all rattley!”
“Rattled.” Techno muttered the correction, going completely ignored by the child.
Sam could feel the comforting weight of his gas mask against his face, as well as a less-than-comforting weight of thick bandages wrapped around his arms. He glanced down at the arms, frowning to see just how thick the bandages were. It was several layers at least, and he could see traces of blood already seeping through to the top.
“Ponk said if we’d shown up any later, you would have died. As-fix-eye-ate-id or something. But that was from the breathing, the surgery was for the vines.”
“Tommy, slow down,” Sam said. He would have tried to sit up for a third time, but Technoblade still hadn’t moved his hand. “What are you talking about?”
“Well, when you first came back from the egg, you had all these bites in your arms- and we assumed they were from you… you know…” Eating. Tommy clearly didn’t want to say that, though. “But Puffy bandaged ‘em up the first time, and we thought it was fine. But then while you were sleeping, Ponk decided to replace the bandages and he realized you had all the vines in your arms.”
Sam nodded slowly. “Right… So you took them out?”
“Mhm. It took them forever to do, too.”
“And… Why am I here?”
“We needed someplace safe to hide you, plus Ponk needed a nurse-”
“I’m not a nurse.” Techno grumbled.
“-So we brought you here. Techno’s base is far away and protected. Plus he has all the great healing potions and gapples, which you used a lot of, by the way. Almost died, like…” Tommy counted on his fingers, “Six times. Not including when you passed out in your base.” Sam hadn’t noticed Tommy had made his way across the room until he sat on the bed, narrowly missing landing on top of Sam’s legs.
“Oh… Well, my apologies, Technoblade.”
Techno shrugged. “Phil and I had a few to spare, anyway.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but was interrupted by the sound of someone clapping their hands together in the doorway.
“Alright, everybody out,” Ponk said. His mask was still around his neck, and he was wearing a white doctor’s coat. “I need to interview the patient alone.” Ponk was clearly trying to sound professional, but there was still that glint of humor in his voice that never really went away.
“Aw, I just got here.” Tommy complained, but Techno ushered him out quickly, closing the door behind them.
Sam forced a slight smile. “Hi, Ponky.”
“Sam.” Ponk sat down in the chair that Techno had been sitting in. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine, Ponk.”
“Can you stop lying for one minute!” Ponk sounded angry, scared, and exhausted. Gosh, Sam hated hearing him like that. It made his heart hurt.
“Sorry, Ponk…”
“How are you, really?”
“I’ve.. I’ve had worse.” Ponk was about to speak, but Sam continued. “Arms hurt like Hell, but I’ll survive.”
Ponk nodded at that.
After a moment, Sam sighed. “Sit on the edge of the bed for a minute, will you?”
With a raise of an eyebrow, Ponk obliged, sitting down much more carefully than Tommy. “You really scared me back there.” Ponk muttered. “I thought you died.”
“Yeah… Uh, sorry about that?”
“Don’t scare me like that again. I was worried.”
“I wasn’t planning on it.”
Ponk gave him a look. “Why did you take your mask off, anyway? I thought it hurt to breathe without it?”
“It does.” He said without really thinking. “I just… I’ve been really tired lately. Wasn’t thinking straight.”
“Have you not been sleeping?”
“Uh…”
Ponk grabbed Sam’s hand again, lacing their fingers together like Sam had in his house earlier.
“I just…” Sam sighed. “I’ve been getting these bad… Flashbacks, I guess? Since I was trapped in the egg. Every time I close my eyes, it’s like all I see is red.” he forced out a slight chuckle, trying to lighten the mood.
Ponk frowned at that. “Sam it’s been over a week, have you slept at all?”
“A little bit, here and there. But I just slept for… A while, I think, so it’s all good.”
“Passing out and then going into a medically-induced coma is not “good”.”
“Coma?”
“For a day. ‘Cause of all the healing potions… Doesn’t matter. You need real sleep, Sam.
“I’ll be fine.” He sat up, almost surprised Ponk didn’t push him back down. Maybe he didn’t need to, because his head started spinning almost immediately.
“You’re not fine, stop saying that. You didn’t even recognize us when we found you earlier.”
Okay that… That was true. And it irked him, because he should have recognized Tommy and Ponk, they were literally the two people he saw most often.
“Tommy was freaking out when he called me, you know.” Ponk continued, “He said you didn’t know it was him when he called, even after he told you it was.”
“I… Yeah. I dunno, I think the lack of air sort of messed with my head a little.”
“Yet another reason you should sleep.” Ponk let go of his hand, despite Sam’s quiet protests, and pressed a hand against his chest, slowly starting to push him down to a lying position again.
“I’m not sleeping, Ponk. You can’t make me.”
“You said you had flashbacks? It was probably because of the vines in your arms. You’ll be fine now. I promise.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No, but I’ll be right here no matter what.”
He was lying on the bed once again, and he really was exhausted… Besides, Ponk could be right. Maybe it was the physical tether to the egg that had been causing his problems. Ponk pulled the blanket back over Sam.
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Okay…” He glanced up at Ponk before closing his eyes. “Goodnight Ponky. Love you.”
“Goodnight Sam.”
A beat.
He opened his eyes again.
“Love you, too.”
Even if Ponk couldn’t see it, a smile crossed his face. “There it is.” he murmured, eyes closing again.
Maybe he shouldn’t have ignored his issues as long as he had, but it was getting better now. He had friends to help. Maybe he wasn’t fine earlier, but with help, he would heal.
…
Did you really think you could get rid of me that easily..?
...