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A dusty fog rolled over the landscape, casting a gentle shadow over the already night darkened maw of the crater below. The TNT didn’t dare stop as the clouds rolled in. Their ignition only sending bursts of light through the low hanging mist, like lightning-
A deep rumble interrupted Tommy’s thoughts. Looking up towards the sky, he saw the real storm coming. It was almost serene there, stood atop the obsidian grid above, feeling the heat of wick flame, but not himself burning, watching lighting ripple through clouds, but remaining untouched by precipitation.
The last few days had been a furor of explosive thunderclaps and rubble rain, angry squalls forming a tempest around the ever-growing gash in the Earth: the scar in bedrock that had once been home. Cuts and scars littered his body, some fresh, some from years ago, and an unfortunate few from a different kind of battle in weeks past.
If he was thankful for anything now, it was that Wilbur didn’t live long enough to see L’manburg like this, or him like this.
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"Wait!"
A lanky young man, or perhaps an old boy, clad in a yellow sweater with a guitar strapped to his back, turned.
"Tommy?"
"Don't go! You can't go!" He ran up and clutched at the man's pants with the knuckle white grip of a child.
The man placed a hand in his messy blond hair, a little smile painting his face.
"I'll be back, it won't be long."
The boy sniffled, grip only curling further into the man's jeans. "That's what Dad and Techno said..." He whispered.
His smile dropped. "Oh, dear-" He scooped Tommy up into his arms, holding him close. "I promise you, Toms, I'm not leaving you behind. I just need to go to the village to get some things for us."
Tommy only nuzzled his face into the crook of his neck. "Then just take me with you!" He whined "Or-or-"
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"Let me follow you, Wilbur."
The young man, now truly a young man, guitar still strapped to him like a second skin, turned to face his brother once again.
"Tommy…"
"You heard me." He stepped forward, determination in his blue backed eyes. "Even if you won't buy me a ticket for the train just- just, please, don't stop me from getting on."
Wilbur placed a hand on his brother's shoulder and pulled him into a hug.
"If you want to, Tommy, you can follow me anywhere."
He smiled "Thank you Wil-"
"But…" He gently pulled away.
The boy's smile faltered.
"Today you don't have to." He pulled two train tickets from his pocket and held them up between the bend in his forefinger and thumb.
"YES!" He tackled his brother with full force, nearly knocking the taller man over. "Holy shit, you got me good! I can't believe youd-"
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“I can’t believe you’d do something like this.”
The man didn’t turn to face his brother. His guitar was somewhere… Pogtopia probably, broken strings and all. He kept his hand over the button, and Tommy in his periphery.
“Then you’d better start believing, Tommy. There’s no going back now.”
“Yes, yes, there is Wilbur!” Quackity butt in between them. “Schlatt being in power right now doesn’t mean Manburg is done for!”
“ L’ manburg.” He spat, head jerking away from the button to half-eye the man.
He tossed his hands in the air, half frustration, half placating gesture. “Right, sorry! Just- get away from there, we can talk about this!”
Wil looked to Tommy.
“Please Wil.”
“Fine… Just give me a minute…”
Tommy and Big Q stepped out of the small room, Wilbur watching until their figures were washed out by the light of the entrance.
He gave the button a longing look, just grazing it’s face with the palm of his hand before stepping out to block the door.
He spoke to himself words he wishes he could give someone else:
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"You should have never followed me, Tommy."
“I know.” The boy curled into himself.
"Then why-"
"You know why."
Wilbur only hummed in response, pausing briefly before continuing to set up a game of solitaire. The playing cards were stark against the infernal black that reached forever in every direction.
"Hindsight's 20/20." Tommy murmured, watching his brother with glazed over eyes.
"Unfortunately so…" Wilbur placed the last of the cards. "Now!" He clapped his hands. "How about some Double Klondike?"
Tommy sat up from where he had been sitting with his knees against his chest.
"Again?" He groaned
"Well, we certainly have the time."
His words and actions confused themselves as he stood up to sit next to the cards Wilbur had put out, all while complaining;
"Ugh, Wil-"
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“-I don’t want to play your stupid game!”
"Sure you don't." He turned away, not even looking his way as he rummaged through the chest in the back of the van. "You're standing right there, aren't you?
“It seems more like you are the one who doesn’t want me here!” He gestured to the burger van interior, “You started a business without me! What happened to sticking together?”
He waved away the notion “You were busy in therapy or something. Time waits for no man, Tommy.”
“Well, I’m not waiting either. I’m leaving, Wilbur.” He turned to leave and opened the door, but before his face could meet the sun, a cold hand caught his shoulder.”
“Tommy wait-”
“No! I just said I wouldn’t! I’m not following you into whatever stupid shit you make up! Not this time.”
Wilbur's grip tightened, and Tommy’s breath sped up as memories flickered at the edge of his mind.
“Let me go!” Attempts to shrug off Wil’s hand proved futile. “What’s your deal?”
Tommy was once again reminded that this man had not been his brother for a long time. His face said it all.
His voice was foreign. “You’ve forgotten yourself, Tommy. You’re my brother, and family sticks together.”
“Should have thought about that before you had yourself fucking killed.” He spat.
Wilbur let her go, and Tommy quickly pulled away.
“Now buzz off. I’m going to Las Nevadas, you can’t stop me.” He rolled his shoulder to ease the ache left by his "brother's" white knuckle grip.
He remembered the final night of Doomsday, watching the storms collide around him, thankful for little more than that someone wasn't there. Now that someone was a pain in his side.
Literally.
Tommy collapsed to his knees as fire shot up his spine. He grasped at his back, hands finding purchase on the shaft of an arrow. He didn't pull it out, knowing better after years of war, but his palms came away bloody nevertheless.
"Sh-shit." He sunk further to the floor as the pain overcame his senses. "Wilbur- please-" His voice caught as he looked back to see Wil, bow in hand, a second nocked and pointed at his leg. "No, no- please-"
He released the arrow, and Tommy braced for pain, but it never came. As he opened his eyes to face the wound, deep and bloody he realized he couldn't feel it. In quick succession came the next realization: He couldn't move his legs.
Tommy didn't like crying, certainly not in front of other people, but shock kept his shaky hands from wiping the tears away.
Wilbur kneeled down next to Tommy and picked him up, holding him close. His legs felt nothing, but his back still burned. His face fell into the crook of Wil's neck, silent tears wetting the collar of his coat.
"Why?" Tommy whimpered.
"You should have it figured out by now Toms." Wilbur smiled down at him. "If you won't follow, I'll just have to take you with me."