Work Text:
Tommy had been working with—more like staying with the Syndicate for the past five months, gathering intel, making connections, and lying to people he tried to convince himself weren’t friends. He arrived on their doorstep, sort of, and was interviewed. It was a harsh interrogation and he really had to play up the poor street-kid avian without a family role.
It worked and possibly too well on the Syndicate leader, Phil, also known as the Angel of Death. Phil liked to keep a close eye on Tommy and it made spying difficult. He figured it had to do with the avian instincts and Tommy being so young.
The Syndicate was an all-avian organization. Avians were the world’s rarest hybrids, and the most dangerous. Not in comparison to the legendary hybrids like dragons and wither of course. But avians were known to flock together, growing stronger in groups, feeding off of each other's energies and instincts.
They flew and grew talons sharper than man-made daggers. They made perfect spies and assassins. Like Tommy.
Tommy worked with Manberg. They were an organization that vowed to eradicate the world of the dangerous avians, or at least, the things that made avians dangerous. When Manberg caught avians that they deemed good, they took the avian’s wings and talons.
Tommy, when he joined Manberg, was allowed to keep his wings and talons as long as he vowed to use them for good, and if he ever did something evil or wrong he was obliged to have his wings removed.
Tommy had yet to make a mistake. He had yet to do anything that wasn’t a direct order from Manberg.
Now he was here. Spying on Manberg’s greatest threat, their most dangerous enemy. And he was facing the most challenging thing he’d ever had to deal with on any of his missions: he liked the enemy.
They were, well—he didn’t like them. They just weren’t what he was expecting and ended up being surprisingly pleasant company. But not so pleasant that he was going to betray Manberg.
He often had to remind himself that these avians have killed and pillaged and destroyed. It was in their nature and luckily Tommy was brought up by humans.
That ended up being quite the conversation starter.
“You were raised by humans?” Wilbur asked. “Is that why you don’t have instincts?”
“Well. I have the instincts I just don’t act on them,” Tommy said. He didn’t chirp or let anyone preen his wings. He didn’t keep his talons sharp either, he used daggers.
“Why would you keep in your instincts? We’re all avians here… it’s not healthy to push them down.”
Tommy nearly scoffed. He’d been suppressing instincts since he could breathe. Nothing problematic had shown up yet.
He shrugged. “I haven’t noticed anything.”
They were sitting in the lounge. There were a few other avians around, reading, talking, eating breakfast. It was warmly lit and Tommy and Wilbur were sitting on the large bean bags in the center of the room.
Wilbur was one of the syndicate leaders. After Phil he was the one who warmed up to Tommy the quickest. They all liked him right away of course, but Wilbur made it part of his routine to check on and talk to Tommy every day.
“I just have to make sure the new recruit is adjusting well. It’s part of my job,” Wilbur had said after Tommy accused him of hovering.
“It’s the instincts, mate. Wilbur’s been the youngest Syndicate member since it started,” Phil had explained. “He’s never had someone to dote on.”
Which led to Wilbur slapping Phil’s arm with a squawk.
Today marked the sixth month though. The first day of the sixth month since Tommy had been deployed here. And tonight he was going on a mission with Technoblade.
Techno was the Syndicate’s general, basically. He was tasked with training Tommy—who had to pretend he barely knew what he was going—and had already taken him on a few missions. Tonight was a bigger one though. He and Techno were going to intercept a shipment from Las Nevadas to Manberg.
Of course Tommy had already warned Manberg what was going to happen. He just had to act like he was fearing for his life when they went and Manberg agents were there, ready to shoot.
“Are you nervous? About tonight?” Wilbur asked, lounging back on the bean bag, wings spreading.
His wings were the prettiest, Tommy thought. They were a splotchy mix of browns and beiges. Like coffee. Much nicer than Tommy’s gold wings. They looked like copper right now, turning dark from lack of care. They used to shine.
“Yeah. A bit. But, Techno will keep me safe,” Tommy said, forcing his eyes away from Wilbur’s.
It made the man frown.
“You do that a lot. Your eyes linger on our wings for a bit and then you force yourself to look somewhere else.”
“So?”
“You need to get back in touch with your avianism. You need to let someone take care of your wings for you, and you need to feel avian love.”
Love. Love was too strong a word for friends of six months, was it not?
“Can’t miss what I never had, Wil. I don’t need it.”
“I never even see you fly. I never see you stretch them—I swear they used to be lighter in colour.”
“Can you mind your own fucking business?” Tommy snapped.
His heart stopped. Because he’d never snapped or yelled or even seriously back-talked any of them. Tommy had always been able to keep a cap on his emotions while working.
It was something about all of the wing comments. They just got to him.
“Sorry. I’m just worried. I’m sorry.”
Worried. Tommy scoffed—out loud. Oops. Wilbur frowned harder. Tommy decided to stand up, Wilbur did too and Tommy was worried that he was about to get followed.
Wilbur grabbed his shoulder, making Tommy whirl around instinctively.
Prime. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he just calm himself down. Fuck.
“Sorry. I’ll let you go, just, talk to me. Or Phil, or Techno even, if you ever need anything. Preening, food, a blanket. Fucking… a hug? Maybe? Have you considered—”
“Die.”
Tommy pulled himself away with a laugh, draining the tension from his body manually. He loosened his shoulders and bounced his step a bit.
“Okay. Good luck later, Tommy.”
“Thanks,” he said, walking quicker than usual toward his quarters.
As he made it down the hall and to his door, he felt a tickle in his throat. He coughed, trying to clear it. It seemed to work but it didn’t feel like a regular cough.
He flopped onto his… nest.
They had given him a pile of blankets and pillows as a bed. He hated that the first night he slept in it it was the best sleep he’d ever gotten. Now he sleeps on the mattress at the bottom of the pile with a single blanket in pillow, everything else packed away.
He can not indulge his instincts.
**********
“Are you okay?” Techno asked, kneeling in front of Tommy.
Tommy blinked, feeling the pooling blood in the side of his stomach.
They had shot him.
Him. Tommy. Their spy.
“Shit, kid. It’s alright,” Techno said. He looked around, feeling confident in their current cover. “I don’t know how they knew. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Tommy croaked, before remembering that he was supposed to be making them feel guilty and more indebted to him.
There had been an explosion in the tunnel that the vehicles were passing through. The two vans, Las Nevadas and Manberg, stopped to hand off the cargo, and Techno and Tommy had moved in to steal it…
Then the explosion had gone off. Another thing Tommy wasn’t warned about.
“You hit your head,” Techno said, moving Tommy’s head from side to side. “Can you hear me alright?”
Tommy nodded. He felt floaty and numb. It was a new sensation.
Techno’s wings rose behind him, dark pinkish feathers—nearly black—boxing Tommy in and blocking out their surroundings.
Tommy bit his tongue, feeling something in his chest squeeze. Then Techno started tending to his wound, lifting Tommy’s pressing hands carefully.
“The team’s on the way. We’re hidden here. It’s alright,” Techno said, pressing gauze into the wound.
They were hiding on the side of the road in the tree line, just outside of the tunnel. It wasn’t a well-used road. The tunnel was long, traveling through a hill that bordered Manberg and Las Nevadas.
“Talk to me kid, I’m not liking the blank stare.”
“Sorry. Sorry, I’m okay.”
“It’s alright. Are you hurt somewhere else?”
Techno’s wings were fluffed up in alarm, feathers spread wide around Tommy. Not touching though. Thank prime.
“Don’t think so. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”
Tommy tried to speak, intending to tell Techno that he wasn’t worried, when he started coughing. Something rough stuck in his throat.
“Easy, it’s okay,” Techno assured, bracing Tommy as he coughed with one hand, the other on the wound.
Fuck. He couldn’t stop coughing. He was jostling the wound, making his head pound. He kept coughing.
“In the treeline,” Techno said into his radio. “I’ll flash my light.”
His wings brushed Tommy’s arms, making him choke on a cough. He tried to stay quiet. He tried not to move.
Techno flashed a light back toward the road.
“We see you,” Wilbur said on the radio.
Techno turned back to Tommy, wings closing in, feathers resting on Tommy’s shoulders and arms. Tommy backed further into the tree he was leaning against.
“It’s okay. They’re here. We’re gonna get you home, I just need you to breathe through it.”
Tommy clamped his mouth shut, blocking out the coughs and… something else. Whatever was stuck in his throat had dislodged, it was sitting in his mouth. He didn’t dare spit it out and let Techno see.
It wasn’t food. Could it have been debris from the explosion?
“I see them coming kid, gonna pick you up now,” Techno said, looping his hands under Tommy’s back and knees.
Tommy didn’t protest, as much as he wanted to. He focused on breathing now that the coughing was done.
Then Techno’s wings folded around him as they walked. They were warm and soft, they blocked the wind. It was quiet within their shield.
“You with us mate?” Phil asked, peeking through Techno’s feather wall. “Oh.”
The feathers lowered more, revealing a van on the road, Wilbur in the driver’s seat, sliding doors already open.
“What?” Techno asked. Then he looked down at Tommy and his worried face softened. “Oh.”
Tommy blinked. He could ask what they were all confused about. Or he could relax and let things play out. Because at the end of the day the mission was complete. The interception didn’t happen—and it looked like Manberg got away with the cargo. So. Win.
Tommy was being moved. Into the van. And he was gently set on a bench. His instinct when he was set down was to sit up again like he was taught—he’d only been hurt this badly once with Manberg—but the avians didn’t seem to like that he did that.
“No, no, kid, you lie down. It’s alright,” Techno said.
Something was pulled over Tommy’s legs. A blanket—no it was wings. Man they were soft. He figured wings would be rougher, more coarse. They weren’t.
“Mission must have really freaked him out,” Phil said.
The van started to rumble forward. Wilbur said something from the front.
“Yeah mate, his eyes are almost completely black,” Phil chuckled. “I suppose it’s the first time he’s been…”
Tommy wasn’t sure what the pause was about but his side was really hurting. He pawed at it, trying to investigate.
“Don’t touch that,” Techno said. “I’m taking care of it, just relax.”
The wings on Tommy’s leg flattened more, pressing against his lower half in an almost restrictive way. But the wings weren’t that strong.
“That was the first time he’d been, uh, hugged for lack of a better word,” Phil said.
Techno paused in his cleaning of Tommy’s wound. “Yeah. I guess it would be. He usually avoids it—I wasn’t thinking when I grabbed him like that.”
“I’m sure he’ll forgive you. We were going to have to help him with his instincts eventually.”
What were they talking about? Tommy had been lost for the past… how long had it been? Prime, his side really ached. His head was all fuzzy. He groaned at the pressure on his wound.
“I know. I’m sorry nest—Tommy,” Techno said.
Phil chuckled in the distance.
“Shut up,” Techno said back to him. “The only reason you’re not acting the same way is cause you’re manning the guns.”
“There’s nothing wrong with caring for a chick, Techno.”
Techno grumbled something under his breath and finished whatever he was doing to the wound. Tommy kept his eyes shut, hoping he’d fall asleep and just wake up better.
But that thing was still in his mouth. Ugh, he didn’t want that there but he wasn’t supposed to spit it out. For some reason. Why?
“Y’okay?” Techno asked him, hand barely ghosting over Tommy’s hair.
Tommy shuffled, trying to lean into the hand that was barely there. Techno let out a surprised chirp, and his hand fell gently onto Tommy’s hair.
Tommy hummed appreciatively.
**********
“No. I said fucking no dickheads.”
“But you were so relaxed in the van,” Wilbur said.
“Maybe because of the blood loss? I passed out? Because I was shot?”
“You almost chirped back at me,” Techno said.
Tommy clenched his fist and bit his tongue. He turned his back to the three avians sitting in their nest, and he started toward the door.
He’d woken up on a cot outside of the actual nest, but they invited him to join them in the nest. He said no and they rattled off a list of benefits that came with bonding and chiring and bullshit.
“You need to rest though. You shouldn’t be alone,” Phil said. “That is protocol. That is an order.”
Tommy crossed his arms. “My wound is fine. My headache is gone.”
“You were coughing up literal debris from being catapulted into the forest by an explosion.”
Ah. Yeah. They had found the thing in Tommy’s mouth. He didn’t get to see it but Techno said it was a flower stem, of all things.
But it was time to start acting. So Tommy turned to face them, turned his outrage into discomfort, and started to manipulate like he was meant to.
“I mean… if you really want me to be in the nest I can. Didn’t mean to be difficult.”
“No! No,” Phil said, sounding hilariously horrified. “Nobody’s forcing you. It’s okay, you don’t have to stay here. Only if you ever want to.”
“You won’t be mad?”
Phil's eyes widened more. It was great.
“No! No, we won’t be mad. You can head to your room, we’ll just check on you a bit. Call us if you need anything—Wil’s going to take you to your room though.”
Win. An absolute win.
“Okay,” Tommy whispered.
Wilbur got up to take him back to his room. As they went Wilbur kept his wings neatly folded on his back like Tommy did.
“We didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“It’s okay, Wil. I’ve just never not been able to suppress it before.”
That was the truth. He’d never actually touched another avian’s feathers until that moment, dodging them carefully in hallways and lounges throughout the Syndicate base. He’d been chirped at before, but nothing more than a greeting.
Wilbur sighed. “We wish you wouldn’t.”
“I don’t get why it’s a big deal.”
Wilbur nodded. “I know. You didn’t grow up with it, you don’t know why it’s so special and important. What I don’t get is why you won’t try to reconnect with your avian side.”
Acting. Always acting.
“I guess it just—I dunno—it just reminds me that my parents are gone. And it’s always going to be something I’m shamed for or have to hide in public, why indulge in it?”
“That’s what we’re doing here, Tommy. We’re fighting for avian rights and safety—so other young avians aren’t afraid to be who they are. So other families aren’t killed.”
It really was too bad that avians ended up being so violent, Tommy thought. They seemed close enough to people. They wanted to be safe and happy like people.
“They just aren’t meant for our society, unfortunately.”
“As much as they want to be good, they always get lost in their instincts. They always hoard power.”
“Tommy you passed the door,” Wilbur said.
Tommy turned around, seeing Wilbur stopped at his door, looking at him with concern.
“Oh. I was just thinking.”
“Clearly.” Wilbur opened the door with his card—the three leaders had access to every room—and ushered Tommy inside. “Get some sleep, hm?”
“Yeah yeah. I will.”
“We’ll talk more about the mission and everything later.”
Wilbur shoved Tommy onto his mattress, making him grunt in slight pain and mostly annoyance. Wilbur frowned at his shithole of a nest, but he left.
Thank fuck.
**********
It was cold in his room so he’d gone to pull an extra blanket out of the closet. That was all that he’d meant to do. But he found that his back was hurting. So he’d gotten back up to collect another two pillows, just to see if he could arrange them in a way that made things more comfortable.
He started to fall asleep. But he was still unsatisfied. Grumbling to himself, he started to arrange the feathers on his wings. He was allowed to organize them if they hurt and if they were too unkempt to be folded away. That was the Manberg rule for elite avians.
So that’s what he did. He preened lightly until he could ignore the ache in his wings and back. But even then something was wrong.
Tommy closed his eyes, trying to ignore it, until eventually it was so unbearable that he had to get up and turn on the lights. He was utterly uncomfortable, and he had no idea why, and not knowing was stressing him out even more.
Looking himself over in the mirror on his wall, Tommy saw nothing wrong. He lifted his shirt to look at the bullet wound. That was a week ago. It shouldn’t have been causing problems now.
It looked fine.
Tommy dropped his shirt and ran a hand through his hair. He was sweating but he felt cold. He couldn’t have been sick. He didn’t get sick. That just never happened to him.
Should he tell Phil?
No. He abandoned that thought immediately and looked back at himself in the mirror. He wiped away more sweat with his hand and ruffled his hair.
Phil didn’t want to deal with that.
Tommy couldn’t rely on Phil for anything. This was all fake. He was acting. It was all acting. Even if they cared about Tommy, they didn’t care about him. About Thomas from Manberg. This was a mission. Phil was not really there for Tommy to get help from.
He backed away from the mirror, turned off the lights, and fell into his mattress. Distantly he realized that it had become alarmingly more nestlike. He had planned to dismantle it again and force himself further away from the instincts when he started coughing.
Tommy tried to clear his throat, sitting back and trying to rid himself of the phlegm or whatever this was.
But it didn’t stop. And again, Tommy found himself coughing and heaving with the effort of dislodging something stuck.
When it didn’t come out after a few painful hacks, Tommy knelt, unable to stand with the force of his body convulsing.
Someone was going to hear. Fuck. Fuck. He covered his mouth, desperately trying to muffle the sounds.
One last painful heave had him nearly falling face first off of the mattress and into the floor. He sat back, exhausted, throat sore, and looking down at the floor where he’d heard something land.
Tommy scrambled to turn on the lights and yelped in disgust at what he saw.
He’d spat up a flower head.
It was dark in colour, almost black, but it was dark red. Maybe more like plumb. It wasn’t a full flower. It was more like a chunk of one. Just a heap of petals, the center of the flower, and a short stem.
It was bloody.
Tommy reached out to touch it, to see if it was real. The tip of his finger moved the flower, touching his blood.
There was a knock on his door.
“Tommy?” It was Wilbur. “Heard you coughing… it’s pretty late to be up.”
Tommy rolled his eyes. He silently—sort of—cleared his throat and cringed at the feeling. He kicked the bloody flower under his desk and prayed Wilbur wouldn’t look too closely at the blood on the ground.
Tommy opened his door.
“I was just getting ready to go to sleep,” he said, already preparing to close the door again.
“Okay. Your nest looks nicer,” Wilbur said, looking past.
Prime, please don’t look at the floor over there.
“Yep. Got cold. I’m tired though, so you should leave.”
Wilbur tilted his head knowingly, giving Tommy the “really?” look. It almost seemed like Wilbur was going to push his way into the room and demand more answers.
“The coughing?” he asked. “Your voice is a bit… it just sounded like it hurt.”
“Ah, it did. I’m fine though, not really sure where it came from,” Tommy said.
“Is your wound alright?”
Tommy nodded, lifting his shirt to show Wilbur the bandages. They hadn’t bled through or come undone. That was a relief, he hadn’t actually checked.
“Good. Alright. Well, do you need anything? Medicine?”
“No. I’m good.”
Wilbur nodded and he turned to leave, albeit hesitantly. Tommy closed the door quickly behind it and locked it. Even though Wilbur could still get past the lock if he wanted.
“...sounded like it hurt.”
“Is your wound alright?”
“Do you need anything?”
Wilbur was part of the mission. He wasn't a friend. Or “flock” as the avians called it. Tommy was using him, he couldn’t rely on him for anything. Tommy had to learn how to get by on his own. He was just pretending to be friends.
Wilbur didn’t care about Thomas from Manberg. Wilbur cared about Tommy. The parentless, pitiful street kid who’d nearly gotten blown up a week ago.
Wilbur didn’t care about him. He couldn’t. Wilbur couldn’t care about him if he didn’t really know him.
The cough came back a few minutes later. Tommy stuffed his face into the pillows, hoping he wouldn’t suffocate.
**********
“Heard you didn’t sleep well last night,” Phil said, joining Tommy in the line for food. “If you’re too tired to train today you can let Techno know.”
“Wilbur snitched on me?”
“He did.”
Tommy scoffed, focusing more on the food ahead than Phil. Today was pancake day and Tommy would give just about anything to have a stack of them with extra maple syrup.
“Really though, you’re still recovering. You don’t have to train today. Or at least, you’re allowed to go easy on yourself.”
Tommy nodded, having expected this.
Sometimes he wondered if they knew he was a spy, and that’s why they were acting so nice all the time.
“I feel fine. It was just a weird night.”
“Why?”
“I dunno, mind your fucking business old man.”
Phil blinked.
Then Tommy blinked.
Tommy sputtered, “Sorry, sorry—I, it was meant to be a joke—”
Phil laughed. Then he laughed a little harder.
“It’s okay mate, it just caught me off guard. You didn’t have to think very hard about that one did you?”
Tommy kept his mouth shut but he made himself smile. Lightheartedness was key, it made him endearing. So he smiled.
“Did you know, if you ask really nicely, the cooks give you chocolate chips in your pancakes?” Phil said.
Tommy’s mouth fell open.
“Well, Phil, you really know how to get a man’s hopes up. I think I’ll be crushed if you’re lying.”
They got to the front and Tommy asked about the chocolate pancakes like he was asking about meth. The cook looked at Phil with a knowing grin, then she said that she could do it but he wasn’t allowed to tell anyone else.
Tommy swore an oath that morning.
He spent the entire morning with Phil. They ate breakfast together, surrounded by the other avians in the organization. They talked about a lot of things but Phil managed to ease the subject into self-care.
He was always too good at that.
“It’s been half a year now, of you staying with us,” Phil began, pushing their dirty dishes aside. “We’ve been letting you adjust, but we really should discuss your instincts.”
Tommy shuffled uncomfortably in his seat.
“I don’t see why it’s so important to you.”
“Well, mate, the point of the Syndicate is to make a safe place for avians, where we can be who we are, where we can live safely and not have to hide ourselves. It just doesn’t make much sense for you to be advocating for avian freedom and believe that it’s wrong for you to indulge in your instincts.”
Ah. Yes. Good point, however, Tommy had already given an excuse to Wilbur. Now he was going to stick to the story.
“It just reminds me of my parents, Phil. It reminds me of why I’m alone and it reminds me that I’m never getting those years back or those first instinctual experiences with a flock.”
Phil nodded, actually buying the story like Tommy knew he would.
“Don’t you think it’s time you try to enjoy what you have now? Wouldn’t you like to become part of another flock—not to replace your family, just because… that’s what happens in life. Your flock expands, sometimes they change.”
Tommy’s heart stuttered.
“Whose? I don’t—I’m not really a good fit for anyone here.”
Phil smiled sadly. “Ours, mate. You fit with us. Me, Wil, and Techno.”
Something scratched its way up Tommy's throat. He tried to clear it and it almost sent him into another coughing fit.
“That’s—that sounds, uh,” Tommy almost said good. He tried to clear his throat again. It hurt. “That’s not a good idea.”
Phil’s expression fell, only a tiny bit, but it was enough to ruin the rest of Tommy’s day.
“Why not?”
Acting. Acting. He just had to act.
“I just,” prime, fuck, this was going to hurt, “I just have my heart set on something different.”
“Oh. Different people?”
Tommy nodded, trying again to clear his throat without making noise.
Phil, Wilbur, and Techno were just obstacles in the mission. They were nothing more than a hurdle for Tommy to pass. They loved—they tolerated Tommy. Not Thomas from Manberg. They liked his character, not him.
“Yeah, something better than… this.”
Tommy’s chest grew tight and he was horrified by himself. This was a mission. These weren’t important people. Why did he care?
“Okay. That’s fair. It’s a bit crowded and dangerous here,” Phil said, well practiced in controlling his voice. “But, that leaves a few issues.”
Oh prime. Tommy wanted to leave. He was going to start coughing up flowers or some shit.
“What?” Tommy asked, voice slightly raspy.
“Suppressing your instincts and avoiding a flock can lead you into depression, quite easily. I’m not convinced that you aren’t already depressed.”
Tommy blinked. “I’m not depressed.”
“Even if you aren’t,” Phil placated, “you could get there. Especially now that you’re around others like you.”
I am nothing like you, Tommy thought.
Tommy was of evil origin like them, but he was raised by righteous humans. He was raised as one of the only good avians, to bring an end to the bad. These ones… the Syndicate are violent, they call themselves heroes when at best they’re vigilantes.
“Well, how would you have me fix that?”
“It’s not meant to be an order, Tommy. I’m not telling you this because it’s part of your job, or because it’s part of mine. I want you to be happy because I care about you.”
The itch in his throat clawed its way up. Tommy couldn’t speak. He would start coughing.
When he didn’t answer, Phil continued. “We can’t find you a safer place than this to live with a flock, at least not yet. But we can offer you help. We’ll teach you how to preen, properly, we’ll help you get used to communicating with chirps and trills.”
No. Prime, that was the worst possible outcome that Tommy could have thought of. He would not indulge in his instincts. Never. They were inhuman, they were wrong, they were beastly.
“I don’t want to do that.”
Phil sighed. “I know you don’t. But this isn’t healthy, and I can’t let a fledgling do that to themself.”
“A fle—Phil. I am fifteen.”
“You’re considered a fledgling until you’re eighteen. Sometimes twenty in other avian cultures. We live longer than humans, our baby instincts take longer to go away.”
Tommy scowled. “I do not have ‘baby instincts’.”
“You just haven’t had a chance to use them because nobody’s been there to take care of you.”
“I don’t like this conversation.”
“Alright. I don’t want to overwhelm you, so let’s make a deal.”
Tommy crossed his arms over the table, feeling the need to shield himself. He pressed his wings tightly to his back.
“Okay?”
“We won’t force you to indulge your instincts, but we’re not going to keep ours away from you anymore.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that we will chirp, trill, and croon as we please. It means we’re going to keep our wings loose around you.” Phil waited for Tommy’s reaction. He didn’t give one. “Of course, we won’t back you into a corner, or touch your wings without permission.”
Oh fuck. Oh fuck. This wasn’t going to be good. Prime, he barely managed to control himself when Techno had boxed him in with his wings the night of the interception. Now they were going to chirp at him? Regularly?
He shouldn’t have been worried. He should have been more confident in his abilities to control himself. What would the Manberg leaders think?
He couldn’t quit now. He’d lose his wings.
Not that he should have cared.
I don’t. I don’t care.
“I’m going to my room,” Tommy decided, throat burning as he spoke. “Tell Techno I won't be training with him today, please?”
“Tommy…”
Tommy got up and left.
**********
It hurt so bad that Tommy wasn’t even embarrassed about crying. Flowers scraped their way up his throat, digging their thorns into his flesh, and stringing along their sandpaper stems. Couldn’t it have been the petals? Whole flowers, really?
Another flower landed with a wet splat on Tommy’s floor. He was shivering from cold, exhaustion, and fear.
It was around the time that he and Techno would be walking to the gym to train. Did Phil remember to tell Techno he wasn’t going to be there? Or was Techno going to knock on that door any second?
Tommy couldn’t care.
Some petals were falling out of his mouth, coming with each cough. They were still that same deep plumb, splattered with red from his ripped insides.
He needed to get to the library. There had to be some kind of sickness, maybe an avian thing? A curse? Could avians do that? Did they know he was a spy? Were they slowly killing him? Tommy sobbed. And it surprised him. He hadn’t cried since… when was the last time he’d cried?
“This is pathetic,” he croaked to himself.
If the leaders of Manberg weren’t there to say it, someone had to.
Tommy grabbed the bloody pile of flower heads and petals and threw them into his trash. They landed with a splat and Tommy didn’t bother to wipe off his hand or clean the floor.
He wasn’t thinking straight, and far off in the realm of experience and sanity Tommy knew that he shouldn’t have left his room.
But he did.
Tommy opened the door with his clean hand and speed-walked his way to the library. What if there wasn’t a cure? What if he was going to die? He’d have to tell Manberg that he’d fail. He’d have to cut his wings off, then die choking on flowers.
Tommy walked hastily by a few confused avians and ducked into the library archway. He settled himself on a computer away from everyone else. It was as busy as he’d expected, one of the more popular places in the base.
Tommy logged into his Syndicate-owned account and got to googling. The first thing he searched was coughing up flowers. The first thing that came up was something called Hanahaki Disease. He looked into it, feeling the flowers in his throat moving around.
After a few minutes of searching he saw: a result of unrequited love. He scowled. Love? Who did he love that didn’t love him back?
His Manberg superiors didn’t love him but Tommy wouldn’t have said that he loved them either.
It couldn’t have been the Syndicate leaders, right? Tommy didn’t love them. They certainly didn’t love Tommy. But. Well. He didn’t love them either and that was for sure.
The next thing he looked up was dark red flower. He clicked on a website titled 61 Types of Red Flowers With Names and Pictures.
It wasn’t Anthuriums, Armeria, or Aster. It wasn’t carnation, chrysanthemum, or… ha, or cockscomb. Tommy groaned. He clicked out of the website and looked at images.
He started to cough lightly. His heart sped up but he managed to stop himself from wheezing away his lungs.
A picture of a beautiful dark red flower came up. It seemed the right colour. The name of it wasn’t in the image description so Tommy image searched it.
A black dahlia.
The cough came back. This time with more force. Tommy started to close the tabs and log out of the computer, feeling in advance how bad this round of coughing was going to be. He clicked the computer off and got to his feet.
On his way out of the library the flowers broke loose. Tommy’s body shook with the power of the first cough, and the next few took him to his knees in the hallway. He fell sideways into the wall, clutching his chest with one hand and stomach with the other.
He doubled over himself, hand falling out to catch himself before face planting into the ground.
Blood dribbled from his mouth, but no flowers yet.
“Tommy?” someone called from down the hall. “Oh. Shit! Someone get one of the leaders!”
Tommy had no idea who was yelling at him but he hated them for it. He couldn’t afford to have the three biggest mother hens hovering over him. Not now. Not while he was fighting off instincts and killer fucking flower disease.
“Hey kiddo,” the person said, they knelt in front of him, reaching out. “You’re okay.”
Tommy flinched back. “Don’t,” he rasped.
The action made him spit up a glob of blood. He groaned in pain and scooted further from the stranger ahead of him.
“Tommy, right? Let me help you get to the medwing,” the avian said.
Their wing touched his arm and he shuffled away again.
“Don’t. Don’t please—”
“Tommy? Niki?”
Techno.
Tommy pushed himself up on weak arms and tried to get to his feet. The avian—Niki—yelped and reached out to catch him but Tommy stumbled away. Techno made it to him though, catching Tommy against his chest mid-fall.
“Woah. Easy, what’s going on?” Techno asked, lifting Tommy and leaning him back against the wall. “Is that blood? That’s blood.”
“He’s coughing it up,” Niki said, very unhelpfully.
“What?” Techno hissed.
Tommy flinched back into the wall, surprising himself with his own reaction. That was not a human hiss. And that was not a human reaction.
Tommy turned his head to the side and another cough sent a string of blood to the ground.
Without warning, Tommy was scooped into Techno’s arms and carried down the hall. Techno’s wings folded around him like they did that night at the tunnel and Tommy bit his tongue to keep something other than flowers at bay.
He could feel his heart hammering in his chest. Against his lungs that hurt.
“I know. Just keep breathing kid, we’ll take care of you,” Techno said. He kicked open a door and let it fall shut behind them. “I need Phil and Wilbur. Kid’s coughing up blood.”
“On it,” someone said.
Tommy was placed on a soft bed. He was disoriented and panicky, but he knew that he needed to get up. He needed to be anywhere but in the care of the Syndicate.
“No, nono, stay here Tommy. I’m serious,” Techno said.
The bed was quickly transitioned into a seated position and Techno lifted Tommy’s blood hand to observe it.
Wilbur burst through the door as one of the Syndicate doctors brought a stethoscope over.
“Why didn’t you contact one of us?” Techno asked, moving out of the doctor’s way.
Tommy didn’t answer, trying to come up with any way to get out of here that didn’t jeopardize his cover.
“Abnormal lung frequency,” the doctor said to their partner. “We can do a quick x-ray.”
Could flowers show up on an X-ray? Did it work like that?
“No,” Tommy croaked, blood spilling down his chin. It made Wilbur gasp. “No I need to—there’s uh—”
“Shh,” the doctor soothed. “It’ll only take a second. We have a really cool piece of tech for this.”
Tommy shook his head. The doctor stepped away to grab something and Tommy seized his opportunity. He flung himself out of the hospital bed, for some reason thinking he had time to pass Wilbur and Techno.
He stumbled into Wilbur’s arms and a pair of chocolate wings enveloped him.
Tommy froze.
“Calm down,” Wilbur said, holding Tommy close. “There. Shh.”
It was really warm, Tommy noticed. And again, the feathers were much softer than he would have expected. They looked really nice. They were like a heated, weighted blanket.
“Back to the bed with you,” Wilbur said. When Tommy stayed still, processing everything, Wilbur chirped at him. An order. back.
And he had no choice but to follow. He walked back, staying in pace with Wilbur just to keep the wings on his shoulders.
Phil opened the door with a bang and rushed in. It shocked Tommy out of his instincts—oh prime, his instincts.
Wilbur pushed Tommy back onto the hospital bed.
“Blood?” Phil asked.
“He’s coughing it up. We’re doing an X-ray,” Techno explained. “Stay on your toes, he’s a runner apparently.”
Phil frowned and Tommy felt disappointed in himself. He wasn’t being obedient. He wasn’t being a very good flo—
Tommy blinked.
Then again.
Then he scowled. Because where did that thought come from? Flock? Flock? When did he start thinking about flock? The doctor passed something over Tommy’s entire body. It was a thin white wand. It never touched, just hovered.
“All done, one moment,” the doctor said. “If we don’t see anything here there’s some other things we can do but we’ll get oxygen on him right away.”
The second doctor was preparing an oxygen mask.
Tommy shook his head again, hard. He needed his brain to sober up.
“I need to leave,” he said, sounding desperate. He cringed at himself.
Phil stepped up, a hand holding Tommy’s shoulder down. He looked stern, worried, and confused. It was a terrifying expression to be on the receiving end of.
“You are not leaving. You’re coughing up blood, Tommy. You could have a lung infection, or a disease.”
“But—”
Phil split the air with a stern chirp.
Tommy clicked his mouth shut, looking up at Phil with wide eyes.
That shouldn’t have done anything to him. He shouldn’t have reacted like that. Tommy should have been better. Oh prime, Manberg was going to have his fucking head. His wings, really. Oh prime.
“Hanahaki,” the doctor whispered.
Phil’s head whipped toward them. So did Wilbur and Techno’s. Tommy stared at the door, his only exit.
His instincts were getting the better of him. He needed to get back to Manberg. He needed to be honest with them. They needed to fix him again.
Three heads turned back to Tommy in sync.
“Who, Tommy? Who doesn’t love you back?” Phil asked, placing his other hand on Tommy’s free shoulder.
Stupid card. Play the stupid card.
“What do you mean?”
“Do you know what hanahaki is?”
Tommy shook his head. Phil’s expression somehow became more intense.
“Hanahaki is a disease, a magical one, that is born of unrequited love. So who is it that doesn’t love you back, Tommy?”
When Tommy didn’t answer, it was Wilbur that spoke up.
“You either have to stop loving them or they have to start loving you. That’s all that can be done.”
Tommy bit the inside of his cheek. Then he started coughing. Phil braced a hand on Tommy’s chest. One of his wings—truly black—wrapped around Tommy’s back as he folded over himself.
Tommy leaned into it.
Then pulled himself away with a sobbing cough.
The other doctor was standing at the side of the bed with the oxygen mask, ready to put it on when Tommy stopped hacking out flowers.
A full black dahlia head landed in his lap.
Tommy’s vision soon matched its hue.
**********
“Are we all in position?” Phil asked from somewhere over yonder.
Tommy blinked his eyes open. He was looking up at a high ceiling in a dim room, warmly lit, and on soft blankets. This is not where he fell asleep.
“He’s back,” Wilbur said. “Tommy?”
Tommy registered that, ah, yes, he had limbs. His fingers twitched and he turned his head, trying to figure out where he was and what had last happened.
He made eye contact with a nervous Technoblade. That man didn’t look nervous too often. It’s what put Tommy on high alert.
Why was he sitting so far away?
“What’s—” Tommy’s voice broke. He coughed, clearing it.
That’s when he registered the little mask on his face. It was like an oxygen mask but it was much smaller.
He turned his head the other way and Tommy made eye contact with Wilbur. Also sitting oddly far away.
A pit. He was in a pit-like structure. But it was padded with a soft circular mattress—covered in pillows and blankets.
He started to sit up.
“Go slow,” Phil warned. “Just stay down if you need to.”
Phil was behind him. Tommy turned his head and met the man’s eyes. His wings were spread out behind him. The only door in the room was beyond him.
Tommy’s stomach churned.
“I don’t want to be here,” he gritted out, throat screaming. “You better let me out of this fucking nest.”
Tommy tried to push himself up to his knees, then feet. He wobbled and fell back to his knees.
Phil had lurched forward a bit but managed to hold himself back.
“We’re not going to do that, but if you sit down and relax for a few minutes we’ll explain why, and what’s going to happen next.”
“Nobody’s going to come near you until you’re okay with it. Just breathe. Just listen and breathe,” Wilbur said.
Tommy crossed his arms digging his filed-down talons into his biceps.
“Okay. Talk,” Tommy spat.
Immediate guilt flooded his heart. A vine slithered up his throat. He coughed and groaned in annoyance.
“You have the hanahaki disease,” Phil began. “I know you know what that is because someone reported you looking it up on the computers after word got around that you were hurt.”
Fuck.
They knew everything. They knew everything.
“Considering we’re the only people who interact with you—antisocial child,” Phil chuckled but Tommy sneered, “it’s safe to assume that we’re the ones causing this issue. Is that true, Tommy?”
Tommy scoffed. It made him choke on the vines in his lungs.
“I don’t love you,” he spat.
Something bubbled in Tommy’s throat. It was not a flower.
sorry, sorry, didn’t mean it, sorry—love
He went to slap a hand over his mouth but it hit the mask, and the world’s puniest string of chirps made its way past Tommy’s lips. He ripped the oxygen mask off.
“Tommy, you need that,” Techno urged.
“I don’t love you. I do not love any of you!” The mission was failing. Tommy was supposed to make them think he did love them. But, prime, what was he doing? What was he doing?
He needed Manberg.
“You do, Tommy. It’s okay. You’re scared of your instincts, and that’s fair. But you do love us, and we love you back,” Wilbur said.
Tommy shook his head violently again, this time able to stand with less wobbling. Phil slowly stood with him, but gestured for the others to stay seated.
“I’m not like you,” Tommy said. “I’m not. I’m one of—”
The good ones, he almost said.
He was losing it. He was losing it all. All of his progress, all of Manberg’s trust and respect. Oh prime, oh prime and fuck.
“Breathe, Tommy. Take a deep breath,” Phil instructed. He didn’t step closer. “Your life is in danger, we’re not letting this continue. You need to accept the fact that you are an avian, and these instincts are a part of our natural survival.”
“No. No. They’re not, they don’t have to be,” Tommy sputtered.
If that was the only way Tommy could live then he didn’t want to. It was wrong. It was evil. Manberg would fix this. They would fix him.
“Why shouldn’t they be?”
Tommy bit his tongue. There was blood in his mouth, from that and the flowers. Tommy ran an aggressive shaky hand through his hair.
“Please let me leave,” he whispered, stepping toward Phil. “I need to leave. I need to get outside—I won’t come back. I swear—”
Phil’s eyes flicked from one of Tommy’s to the other, searching for logic, for an explanation that Tommy couldn’t give him.
“We don’t want you gone, mate. We love you. We want you here. You have hanahaki because your mind has tricked you into believing we don’t care about you. We do. We want you here, we want you safe, we love you.”
“I need to go,” Tommy pleaded, feeling his knees weaken again. “I can’t be here. I need to get—”
Back to Manberg, he almost said.
No, Phil chirped. Tommy froze, voice lost, thoughts paused. “We won’t let you die because we haven’t been able to prove our love for you. That is not happening.”
Phil approached Tommy. Only by a few steps.
“I want to hug you. My instincts are wailing, Tommy, and I want you under my wings. Will you let me do that?”
Yes, his instincts whine.
“No!”
Tommy hadn’t coughed since the initial wake up.
“What about Techno or Wilbur?” Phil asked.
Yes, his instincts continued.
Tommy couldn’t speak. If he opened his mouth now one of two things would happen. He’d either sob, or he’d chirp his answer—yes.
“Somebody has taught you that these instincts are wrong, that avianism is evil. I’ve wondered if you were a Manberg survivor,” Phil said. “They’re wrong, Tommy. This is not evil, this is not impure.”
“Do we seem like bad people to you, Tommy?” Techno asked, stealing Tommy’s attention. “Past the wings, talons, and squawks. Are we evil?” No, Tommy thought. It wasn’t his instincts talking, it was him. And he thought that, no, they didn’t seem evil.
“You don’t love me,” Tommy whispered. “Not really.”
“We do.”
Tommy shook his head. “Even if you did, we’re all monsters. Manberg’s going to get rid of us all.”
“Is that a fear of yours? Or did they tell you that?” Phil asked.
He’d said too much.
He’d lost. He’d failed. This mission had been over for months. It had been over when Tommy decided that Techno was cool and safe. It was over when Tommy decided that Wilbur was funny and comforting. It was over when he deemed Phil a good leader.
Thomas had failed Manberg.
What was there left to lose? Even if he did escape, that’d be the end of his career as a spy. He’d lose his wings, his job, his status, and he’d work for Manberg from the sidelines. As a lesser human in the city.
“We don’t deserve love,” Tommy whispered.
“Come here, mate. Please,” Phil said, arms and wings out, ready to take Tommy in.
And Tommy shuffled forward.
Phil met him halfway there, wrapping his arm and wings around Tommy’s own, lowering them into the blankets below. Tommy heard the others shuffling closer, cautiously.
Tommy wrapped his arms around Phil’s back.
“I’m a spy,” he whispered. “For Manberg. I’m a spy.”
Phil didn’t halt. He squeezed Tommy tighter. Wilbur and Techno arranged the blankets around them and sat close, watching patiently.
“I’m not surprised,” Phil whispered back. “I’m so sorry mate. We’ll show you, they’re wrong.”
Tommy trembled in Phil’s hug and rested his forehead against Phil’s collar. His wings fluttered nervously under Phil’s. The hug easily drained the tension from his body. It was like being drugged.
“I’m not staying here,” Tommy said, as if the others should have expected it. “I have to go back to Manberg—”
“No,” Phil said, voice warning. “I know what they do to their avian agents who make mistakes, or fail their missions. No.”
“Why would you?” Wilbur asked, voice small, fragile. “Why go back?”
“I failed. I’m not on your side, I just don’t have anything to lose.” Phil’s hand rubbed steady circles into his upper back, between his wings. “I just wanted to see what this was like before I left—you won’t want me when my wings are gone.”
“No,” Techno hissed.
Tommy flinched, hiding in Phil’s feathers.
“Sorry,” Techno softened. “I’m sorry. You think avians are evil, undeserving of life and love, or whatever—but we’re going to show you. Stay longer. Just to see. Consider it part of your research before you head back and report your failure.”
“There is no reason why you would need to go back now,” Phil agreed. “We’re not letting you. And You might hate us for it. I’ll feel guilty about it, but you’ll die. You’ll either be killed or kill yourself, and that it not happening. Not as long as we can help it.”
Tommy’s eyelids grew heavy.
“Just sounds too good to be true,” Tommy mumbled, leaning further into Phil’s chest.
“It is good, and it is true. Relax, don’t think about Manberg right now. Listen to our words, enjoy the comfort of the nest,” Phil said. He started leaning back so they could lie down. “We have a lot to prove to you, but I know that we’ll do it.”
Tommy’s wings relaxed further at the supporting croons of the brothers at their sides.
**********
“This is stupid.”
“The fact that you think that is exactly why we’re doing it,” Wilbur said.
Tommy was standing outside the nest, leaning against the wall across from the door. It was only Wilbur in the nest because Phil didn’t want to overwhelm him with all three of them at once. Or some shit like that.
Tommy had done this with Phil once already and managed to run away, escaping out the door and nearly managing to get outside the base before Phil caught him. After that Phil let him go to his room and promised that they would do everything they could to make this easier for him.
“All I need you to do is sit in front of me,” Wilbur said, stealing back Tommy’s attention. “You’ll sit in front of me and we’ll talk a bit—with chirps—and if you think you can we’ll preen your wings.”
“This is humiliating Wilbur.”
“It’s not. It’s bonding, it’s calming, it’s avian.”
“Humiliating,” Tommy mumbled as he stepped into the nest. It was Wilbur’s nest, his room was nice but cluttered. Decorated but chaotic. “Stupid.”
Tommy stood in the nest in front of Wilbur for a few seconds before gently lowering himself to sit in front of Wilbur.
hi, Wilbur chirped.
Tommy grimaced.
“It’s either this or you get a real avian therapist,” Wilbur reminded. “And you talk about Manberg.”
Tommy shook his head.
no, he chirped.
Wilbur smiled. good.
Tommy sat with Wilbur for ten minutes, exchanging simple chirps and trills. Wilbur seemed completely at ease but Tommy couldn’t understand it. The thought of chirping back in Manberg made Tommy’s stomach roll, if he’d ever so much as peeped he’d have been fucking crucified or something.
“Okay. That was good, wasn’t so bad right?”
“I hope you die.”
Wilbur snorted. Then he loosened his wings from his back and moved them forward, hovering over Tommy’s side but not touching.
“Wanna try preening?” Wilbur asked.
Tommy half nodded, then shook his head, then nodded again and froze.
Wilbur’s wings brushed his arms, sending goosebumps up his spine. He tensed, scowling up at the man, but he turned and laid out his wings.
“I have never seen anyone as touch starved as you, Tommy.”
“Can you fucking kill yourself? Maybe?”
**********
These “lessons” as Phil called them, started making Tommy more susceptible to the avian customs and habits around him. If somebody chirped by him he’d have to look, he couldn’t make himself ignore it anymore. If someone crooned his heart rate slowed. And if someone hissed at him he backed away.
But there hadn’t been a flower in his throat for a few days now.
“It doesn’t feel safe,” Tommy explained to Techno as he sat in front of the man. “I don’t like that people can just… manipulate my brain like that.”
Techno nodded. “I feel like that too sometimes. I don’t like it when Phil forces me to relax, or when Wilbur tricks me into doing things for him with his sad warbles.”
Tommy shook his head. “It’s not the same. Someone could make me all relaxed and unaware and shit and then just fucking, I dunno, slice my throat open with their claws.”
Techno frowned, harshly, nearly a scowl and Tommy worried for a second that he’d figured out their plan. That they were going to do that any day now.
“If anybody here so much as gives you a paper cut, they’ll answer to me.”
“But that doesn’t mean it couldn’t happen.”
“Something you don't understand yet, because you haven’t been around it enough, is that adult avians would rather tear off their wings than hurt a chick. Everyone here, and I mean everyone, has a soft spot just for you.”
“I hate that.”
“It’s true. You’re protected here.”
Tommy looked down at his hands, processing.
“I feel weak here. In Manberg I was a spy, a soldier. Here I’m a kid.”
Techno crooned approvingly, making Tommy’s shoulders fall. “That’s the point. That’s a good thing.”
Tommy grumbled to himself, turning to let Techno see his wings.
**********
Phil blinked. “Are you okay?”
“Can you shut the fuck up?”
Tommy was clinging to Phil’s shirt, face shoved into his chest, instincts screaming. He’d had a rough day and something in his avian brain snapped. He needed Phil.
Phil touched Tommy’s feathers and embarrassingly, Tommy pushed his wings further into his hands. Phil chuckled and started to arrange the feathers, brushing through them gently.
“This is good progress Tommy. You came to me on your own.”
“Die. Actually die. Kill yourself.”
**********
Tommy stood in Wilbur’s doorway. It was late. Middle of the night, if not later. And the second Tommy knocked his heart plummeted, because what the hell was he doing?
But Wilbur answered with a chirp, and Tommy chirped back.
Now Wilbur was scrambling to his feet to get to the door that Tommy was already opening.
“What’s wrong?” Wilbur asked, frantic, hands landing on Tommy’s shoulders.
Tommy’s wings fluttered nervously. “My nest isn't very nice.”
Wilbur’s gaze flicked from one of Tommy’s eyes to the other.
“You can’t sleep.”
“I can’t sleep…”
Wilbur smiled, pulling Tommy into the room and closing the door. He nudged Tommy toward the nest and went to his fridge to get some water.
“You’re learning,” Wilbur said.
Tommy groaned. Then he looked up at Wilbur shuffling over the blankets with a bottle of water.
“Yeah. Fine. I’m learning.”
“Do you like it? Being avian?”
Tommy cringed. “No. Not yet, really. But I like it here. I like… some of it.”
Wilbur hummed, satisfied enough.
**********
“Tommy?” Techno asked, having cracked Tommy’s door open just a bit.
Tommy was sitting in the corner of his room, not in his nest, warbling and hissing at himself, trying to claw the sounds out of his brain.
“Hey, be careful with yourself.” Techno knelt in front of him, cautiously pulling Tommy’s hands off his head. “Your talons are growing out, remember?”
Tommy shook his head.
Techno looked down at the hands he was holding and saw that the claws had been filed down. Nearly to the flesh.
“Oh. You—what happened?”
“Manberg contacted me,” Tommy said through a warble. He shied further away from Techno. “They want me to come back now and—I don’t—they’re gonna cut off—”
“You’re not going back.”
“But—”
Techno leaned forward, almost instantly regretting it but continuing anyway, and pulled Tommy into his arms and wings.
“You’re not going back. There is no single good reason for you to go back. They abused you, they lied to you, they made you think you were a monster.”
“I am.”
NO, Techno chirped, more like squawked.
“Sorry, sorry,” he rushed, knowing Tommy was overwhelmed. “You’re loyal, that’s all you’ve known your whole life and you were prepared to give everything you had to them. But you will not go back, and I will not let you lose all of the progress you’ve made.”
“But I was perfect, Techno. I did everything right, always. I was the best—I never made a mistake—that’s where I was meant to be.”
Techno shook his head, tightening his wings, cocooning Tommy in.
“No. You’re perfect, you’ve always been perfect. You’re perfect here. Right here, in my arms, in our base, in our flock.”
Techno could tell that he was winning the kid over. Or, at least he was getting to Tommy’s instincts. Tommy was calming down.
“You guys don’t want me. You want a chick. You don’t want who I am.”
Tommy started coughing. Techno blamed it on his panic. Until it didn’t stop, and he remembered.
Tommy turned his head and choked out a flower head.
Techno felt sick. Especially seeing that the flower’s colour was the same as his wings.
“It’s okay,” Techno whispered. “I’m taking you to our nest. It’s okay.”
He picked Tommy up, feeling the exhaustion seeping off of him. Techno picked up the flower and tossed it in the garbage.
**********
After that incident the Syndicate leaders became more persistent with their lessons, and they didn’t leave Tommy alone unless he specifically asked them to. Which was relatively often.
But, he’d started to approach them more for help. When he was distressed, and when Manberg contacted him again.
Wilbur wanted to ask Tommy how they were making contact, because none of them had the mind to do it earlier, Phil thought it was a good idea. Techno thought they should let Tommy keep contact, which earned a few protesting squawks. But he reminded them that Tommy was a spy, he had information, they could use him to take down Manberg.
“Use him?” Wilbur asked, eyebrows raised. “Do you know how that sounds?”
“He won’t go into the field, but he has information. We can take down the people that did this to him.”
Wilbur looked to Phil for a second opinion.
“We should ask him about it, I think it’s worth it. If he’s the answer to taking down Manberg then so be it, but he will not be forced.”
“He won’t want to,” Wilbur said. “At least no right away but I need to—we—I want them gone.”
Phil smiled at him. “We’ll see.”
“I’m awake you pricks,” Tommy mumbled from where he was supposed to be sleeping, squeezed snugly between Phil and Wilbur.
The three laughed.
“You heard all of that?” Wilbur asked.
Tommy nodded.
“Well what do you think?”
“I’m not a traitor. Manberg… that was my home. I’m not a traitor.”
You kind of are, Wilbur thought, passing a hand through Tommy’s hair. But that’s a good thing.
“...okay,” Phil said. “Have they reached out again?”
“Yeah,” Tommy admitted, making Wilbur’s heart sink, “they asked if I was compromised and needed an extraction.”
“And you said…?”
“I said give me another month.”
Wilbur tilted his head. “Why?”
Tommy shrugged. “Figured by then I’ll have decided what side I’m really on.”
Wilbur frowned. Tommy loved them, and they loved Tommy. Manberg loved Tommy’s abilities, and Tommy loved that Manberg saw him as useful.
It was tricky, it was sad.
“A month is all we need,” Phil said.
**********
“How do you feel?” someone asked.
Tommy was sitting exhausted on the ground after having narrowly escaped an assassination attempt—the attempt wasn’t planned exactly.
“Did he get you?”
Tommy had no clue who was talking. All he could do was look at his Manberg superior ahead of him, locked in chains, being dragged away. Screaming.
“Traitor! Fucking monster! I knew you were too weak for this—you’re all the same in the end!”
He was knocked out with the bottom of a pistol.
“Tommy?” someone knelt in front of him. They were blurry. Wings folded around him like a protective wall. “Okay. Phil! I’m taking him to the medwing.”
Tommy was picked up. He thought. If he had to guess, he’d say it was Techno carrying him because Techno was the strongest. But, the voice seemed too worried to be Techno’s. Was Wilbur that strong?
Tommy blinked in and out of reality for the next few minutes. He was set on a hospital bed again, a nurse approached to start checking him over. There was a lot of muffled speaking, questions aimed at him that he didn’t feel like answering, and eventually the other Syndicate leaders appeared.
They tried to talk to him some more but all Tommy could think about was how much he’d changed over the past year. Going from being disgusted by avians, to becoming one himself.
And he liked it. He wasn’t ashamed anymore. Not really.
Not until today. It wasn’t a problem until Manberg arrived. Until he saw their horrified faces. Some of them were disappointed, one of them concerned, most angry.
It was a small team, sent to extract Tommy. He’d agreed, finally, to contact them and lure them in. He’d explained to Phil that the extraction teams always had one of the higher ups in it.
This time it happened to be Tommy’s direct superior. The one who trained him.
After an hour or two in the medwing, being monitored, receiving ice for his bruises, and staying unresponsive, Tommy was moved to Phil’s nest.
He rested on Phil’s chest, blanketed by his wings, staring blankly at Wilbur to their side. He was probably freaking the man out.
fledgling? Phil crooned.
Tommy didn’t want to chirp back. Not that he had the energy to. Manberg was gone. And of all people it could have been, it was Tommy that guided their downfall.
“Talk to us,” Phil whispered, running his hand down Tommy’s back, between his wings.
They’d discovered that to be Tommy’s weakness. Soothing lines pressed between his sore wing muscles. It made him melt.
please? Wilbur asked.
can’t, Tommy finally warbled back.
“Okay,” Phil whispered. “You can rest. Let yourself relax.”
Tommy coughed. He turned his head as far away from Phil as possible. He felt the air stale as the coughing continued.
He hadn’t had a flower in ages.
sorry, he warbled.
love, the three around him crooned. love, easy, relax, love.
The flower head landed in the nest, bloody and battered.
**********
“I’m sorry,” Tommy said, looking up at Phil’s teary eyes a few days later.
“It’s alright mate, I’m not mad. We’re working together here.”
Tommy dropped the handfuls of ripped feathers—his own—and leaned into Phil’s hug.
“Did you file your talons again?”
Tommy nodded.
“That’s alright. Let’s go make sure you didn’t pull any important feathers, hm?”
Tommy nodded.
**********
“What’s up?” Wilbur asked when Tommy flopped into him on the library bean bag. “Y’okay?”
Muffled by Wilbur’s shoulder in his face Tommy said, “I don’t feel good.”
“Sick?”
“...no.”
“Sad?”
Tommy didn’t answer.
“Is this a regular sort of sad or an ‘I need to pull my feathers and file my talons’ kind of sad?”
“The second one.”
nest? Wilbur asked.
yes, Tommy answered.
**********
“I did it!” Tommy shrieked in delight. He landed on the grassy field and slammed into Techno, arms wrapping around the man. “Did you fucking see that?”
“It was an excellent barrel roll,” Techno laughed.
“Manberg hated it when I had to fly during missions.”
“Feels good though, doesn't it?”
“It feels like fucking heaven, Techno.”
**********
Two years. It had been two years since Tommy started his mission infiltrating the Syndicate. It had been slightly less than one and a half years since he’d started learning how to be an avian. It had been a little less than a year since Manberg tried to take Tommy back.
Now, Tommy waited in Phil’s nest, patiently, anxiously, as they charged Manberg. They had left at eight pm, and expected to be back by two the next day. It was two fourteen.
Tommy was alone, he’d asked specifically to be alone during this time, and Phil trusted him enough. He asked that Tommy be in the nest when they got home. So Tommy hadn’t left it all day.
Fourteen minutes wasn’t much.
He’d worry when it hit three o’clock.
So he sat in the nest, nervously preening his wings, browsing on his laptop—a gift from Phil not long ago—and enjoying a late lunch of pizza.
It was three o’clock on the dot when Phil burst through the bedroom door, Wilbur hot on his heels, and Techno flying in after them—literally. He soared over their heads and dived into the nest.
“We did it,” Techno deadpanned.
Tommy cackled at his frazzled entrance and dead face.
“Manberg is gone!” Wilbur cheered.
Tommy found himself cheering and laughing with them, enveloped in wings and warmth. Not a black dahlia in sight. Not a single itch in his wings or doubt in his mind.
He was an avian.
He was good. He was happy.