Chapter Text
Smoke curled around him as he stood. All his life, the smell of the greyish air had been the one consistency. Whether it be watching a campfire die out while sat next to Tubbo, sitting in the van whilst Wilbur planned how they’d make it out of there, or watching everything he worked for go up in destruction. He stood, and watched the man who had worked so hard to create this country be the same to destroy it, out of seething jealousy and paranoia. Watched as he begged his father to put an end to it, an end to him. Watched as he did.
Around him was shouting. He could hear the noise but could not understand it, entranced by the blood on Philza’s sword as the man pulled away and ran off. He felt something hit his shoulder, then hold onto it. He felt himself being dragged away as someone was clearly shouting at him. But he did not respond. Wilbur was dead. Philza had killed him. Technoblade had betrayed him- had betrayed Tubbo. The young ram had been carried away almost immediately after a fight broke out. He hoped the boy was safe.
Something sharp dug into his shoulder, finally snapping him back a little. An orange paw held onto him tightly and was shouting, though it was hard to hear what exactly the fox was trying to say over the explosions.
“-OMMY-”
The boy hears as he feels another furry paw grab his cheek, trying to grab his attention. Finally, he manages to tear his eyes away from everything in front of him, and looks over at the boy he recognises as Fundy.
“Tommy! Tommy we have to get out of here- now! Technoblade, he-"
Technoblade. The man who had just murdered his best friend in cold blood. In an instance, Tommy turned to look at Technoblade, who held up his crossbow high, loaded with what could only be more fireworks. More death and destruction. Behind the piglin stood two headless shapes of soul sand. Tommy almost huffed out a laugh at the clear love this pig had for destroying what he loved.
“Let me tell you a story, Tommy,” Technoblade’s voice rumbled. “A story of a young hero, who fought and gave everything for his country. A true warrior, named Theseus. Now, Tommy… I’m sure you remember, but these heroes… never have a positive finale, do they?”
Everyone is silent as Technoblade slowly paces around, small bells ringing as he moves. Tommy’s red tail flicks around, revealing his anxiety and anger.
”No, no they’ve always got to die in a ferocious, vicious manner. Theseus is no different, Tommy. He fought for his country, ensured it remained safe. He destroyed the largest threat to their country. And alas, they banished him. Exiled him to a place far, far away.”
Technoblade pauses.
“Tommy, you behave an awful lot like these ancient heroes. Prideful, headstrong and well-nigh excited to fight.”
The piglin stopped pacing as Tommy’s eyes tracked the movement. The blades of grass coming to a still. The wind calming down. It was as if the whole world was waiting to end. And when Technoblade spoke again, for a moment, Tommy’s world did.
“You want to be a hero, Tommy?”
Tommy watched as Technoblade stepped towards the figures of brown sand, the surface squirming with trapped souls which appeared to be stuck in a silent scream. Tommy pushed away the idea of almost finding that thought relatable.
“THEN DIE LIKE ONE!”
The boy snapped back to the moment, running forward to stop his only remaining brother from killing everyone he loved, from destroying everything he cared for, for betraying him like this. From the side, he saw someone move from Technoblade’s side towards him, holding a shield up high. It didn’t matter anyway, as the Withers floated up with haunting screams. They blended in with everyone else’s.
He figured he would just… run. Run wherever his legs would take him, run to Tubbo, run to his jukebox, run to his bench. It didn’t matter. He felt the heat on his back as he jumped around, attempting to reach higher ground. If he could just get up there, if he could just attack a Wither from above…
There was no room to discuss or plan, no time to do anything but act in the moment. The smell of smoke and gunpowder filled the air once more, leaving a foul taste in Tommy’s throat. He saw flashes of people running and jumping around, making a feeble attempt to drain the health of the screaming skeletal beings.
Everyone was shouting at one another, commands, cries for help or anguished screams. It made Tommy want to tear off his ears as he covered them, mostly just leaving a ringing noise. He gazed at the destruction created as the Withers finally crumbled apart.
Without another sound, Technoblade had fled the scene, much like his closest ally.
---
As smoke entered his nose, Tommy’s face scrunched up. He had never had a particular dislike to the smell before November 16th. He glares over to find Niki, staring out in front of her with a cigarette in hand. It was unlike her. But everybody had been unlike themselves recently.
Technoblade had been right about one thing. Tommy was stubborn as a mule. Meaning he’d be damned to be unlike himself.
As the boy drags a separate lanky teenager with him, the other speaks half-mumbled protests. “Tommy are you sure-? What’re you even wanting to do?” They ask.
“Relaaxx bitch boy! We’re just gonna rob him, maybe set fire to some stuff but… not like.. griefing. In this political climate…” Tommy responds, cheerily.
The two teenagers stand in front of the mushroom shaped hut, Tommy stands confident and big, taking up space despite his size and shining out despite the circumstances. Ranboo stands shrunk into themselves to a point of looking awkward, looking gloomy and anxious. Though as they start digging through chests, Ranboo slowly feels a smile grow on his face.
As Tommy watches the other dig through chests, he opens his inventory to place around some netherrack. Just to make it look like the house was set on fire. He never meant for it to spread. How was he supposed to know mushrooms were so flammable?
“Ranboo- Ran!” A hint of panic seeps into Tommy’s voice as he pushes it back down and grabs onto the other’s arm. Surely they must’ve felt the heat? Maybe they were less affected by it because of the enderman thing. Tommy was too occupied to think about it.
Hurriedly, he throws water onto the fire, trying desperately to extinguish it. Who would make their house out of highly flammable material anyway? Make it out of dirt and stone instead. Like he did. He clearly was the smartest guy ever.
Again, that smell of smoke protruded his nose as he starts to cough. Despite his efforts, the house melts into itself into a hot, smoking mess. Instead of the grey clouds Tommy is used to, it’s black—and it stinks.
People come running, though Ranboo seems to notice before Tommy does. The lanky teen turns towards the people and Tommy follows their gaze. There’s Quackity and Fundy, two men who have stuck with him (mostly)(ignoring Quackity’s whole thing with Schlatt) most, besides Tubbo. Puffy and Niki seem to follow behind them with worried looks on their faces. These faces quickly morph into annoyance once they see the very likely culprit.
“Tommy,” Quackity spoke. “What did you do?”
---
The small courtroom fills with chaos. The room feels smaller each time Tommy glances at the walls. He can tell he’s shouting but isn’t tracking what he’s saying. None of the others are happy about it, clearly. Tubbo, Quackity and Fundy all seem to be trying to speak. Two silent figures stand to the side, one being the lanky friend he had dragged into this hot mess. The other being Dream.
He could hear Dream speaking up, demanding something, but could not see his mouth move underneath the white mask. Tommy could not see his gaze or expression, which was creepy. While he never particularly cared for people’s emotions and reactions to his actions, it was always nice to be able to tell anyway. It was nice to be able to tell when someone was angry with him, before they’d start yelling.
Tubbo’s brows would furrow and he’d hold up his nose, huffing. He’d stomp around or his ear would twitch. Fundy’s hairs would raise and he’d squint his eyes and bare his teeth. Quackity’s yellow wings would puff up, or his eye would twitch. Ranboo had never really gotten angry at him. Dream… it was impossible to tell before shit got out of hand.
“Everyone, quiet down!” The man speaks and reveals his sword from his inventory. At the silent threat, everybody seems to simmer down a little, though still angry. Dream points the weapon at Tubbo.
“This is your country, your citizen, your responsibility,” The man started again. “If you do not do something about this, I will have no choice but to exercise my right as owner of the Greater SMP, and resolve this myself.”
As Dream spoke, his sword slowly turned to point at Tommy himself, who immediately starts shouting.
“Tubbo! Don’t listen to him, we can fix this-! Just give me some time, we can plan and—”
The ram holds up his hand, signifying Tommy should be silent now. He does, only out of respect he holds for his best friend—this does not stop him from shooting a glare at him.
Tubbo clears his throat before speaking. “If everybody can agree upon this,” he starts as he glances around the room. “I will provide Tommy Innit with a probation period of three weeks. Meaning, he will not be allowed to steal from anyone, grief any houses or directly insult anyone.” Another pause.
Tommy’s brows furrow. “What-? That’s kind of extreme innit, I didn’t even mean to—”
“Tommy. Just… listen. For once in your life. Listen to me.” The ram spoke, his voice distant. Tommy found it didn’t sound like Tubbo. Not like his Tubbo. Unsure, he glanced around at the others. He saw Ranboo standing up and grew confused.
“Tubbo— If I may,” The enderman paused. “It wasn’t Tommy’s fault completely, I—” They’re cut off by a loudly coughing Tommy, who starts talking again quickly.
“They’re lying—misremembering, whatever the fuck! I did do it, I just didn’t mean for it to get so- so out of hand! I didn’t mean to actually burn down his house, I just- it- why do you make your house of flammable material, anyway?!” He bursts out, not granting Ranboo a moment to interrupt and take some of the blame. He had dragged the other along, he had set the house on fire—accidentally, but he did it nonetheless—and he would not let Ranboo take the fall.
The ram spoke up again with the same detachment in his voice. “If we can get back to the matter at hand… Does everybody agree with my proposal? Three weeks probation period, if Tommy manages to finish it just fine we will discuss again by the end of this period. If he breaks the rules I stated before the period is over, we will gather once more to discuss further consequences.”
Tommy could see Quackity and Fundy nod hesitantly, still talking between the two of them.
“Fine. Three weeks, no more.” The masked man demanded. “I’ll observe his behaviour throughout this time, and if there’s even one thing…” He trails off, clearly trying to appear threatening—his words held no weight.
“You’re such a bitch,” Tommy muttered, and Dream let out a scoff.
“See? Can’t even go 5 minutes without breaking the rules. I suggest you think of a different solution, Mr. President—this clearly is not going to work.” Dream pauses. “Don’t forget my proposal, either. The door’s always open.” He said with what Tommy assumed to be a smile of some sort, but he couldn’t see. He resisted the urge to punch Dream in the face.
---
He was really growing sick and tired of this goddamn smoke. Wilbur clearly left an impression, as his younger brother stood with Quackity and Fundy—the latter’s nose scrunching up when Quackity exhaled with a sigh, not noticing the fox’s expression.
“Alright guys,” Tommy started. “We remember what L’Manburg stands for, yeah? We remember what we stand for. And it’s to not let little bitchboys like Dream rule over us. So I’ve come up with a plan, a great one at that!”
He’s done being pushed around by Dream—in fact, he knows that’s exactly what the green bitch wants. So he refuses to give that to him, he and Quackity and Fundy and Tubbo will refuse to roll over and accept defeat.
Regardless of if Tommy successfully completes the probation period, they’ll fight Dream. With all of L’Manburg, the boy is sure they can take him and his little army.
The trio prepares for battle. Tommy informs Tubbo, and he agrees. He agrees. He promises Tommy he’ll prepare and of course, he trusts his best friend to be honest about it. Of course he believes in Tubbo and Quackity to prepare for battle, to plan strategies and ready everybody for battle. He believes in Fundy to create functional, proper weaponry and armour. As much as the fox can make—which is still not enough for everybody remaining in L’Manburg.
On the last day of Tommy’s probation period, he’s only insulted a few people to their face, though he hasn’t robbed. Hasn’t griefed anyone’s house, the two main rules. He could get away with a little bit of name-calling.
Tommy was called towards the courthouse. He walked over the Prime Path towards it, looking down. Despite the fact it’s only a bit into the afternoon, the outside seemed… darker, than usual.
Inside, he spotted Tubbo, Dream, Quackity and Fundy. The last two gave him a greeting, almost affirmative nod. They had prepared all they could in the period of time they were given. Tubbo does not nod. Maybe this means Tommy should have seen it coming. But he didn’t. He nods at everyone as a form of greeting.
“So… how’d I do,” He says with a grin on his face. “Am I a free man now?”
Tubbo’s mouth twitched downward—not a good sign. “Tommy, you… broke the rules. Several times. You insulted numerous people towards their face, calling them all the words in the book—I can’t…” He sighs. “Why, Tommy? It was three weeks! Three weeks, and this would have been done!”
Tommy tenses. “So… so what now? Then?” He glances over to Dream, who has been quietly staring at the two. When Tubbo did not continue speaking, the masked man decided to give his opinion—which Tommy could not appreciate.
“I have a simple proposition. Come with me, all of you, come outside.”
Stepping outside, Tommy finally observed the leading cause of the darkness over the area. Walls, built higher than ever before surrounded him. Yellow, then black, and back to yellow. Exactly how L’Manburg’s walls had been, but almost double the height.
Dream turned to face Tubbo.
“These walls are not even near the building limit. They can and will be, if you do not exile Tommy Innit from L’Manburg.”
At these words, Tommy sprung back into action, looking at Quackity, Fundy, then Tubbo. Tubbo, who hesitated.
“Tubbo. Tubbo! Tubs- the plan, let’s stick to the plan! We have all of L’Manburg behind us, ready to fight, ready to—”
The ram glances over at Tommy, then behind him. “Where? What army? Who is willing to fight for this country if people keep endangering it? Do you know what happens to people in a country that is in danger, Tommy? They die. If they are lucky, they are able to flee.”
Fundy protested. “Tubbo, you can’t seriously be thinking about… exiling Tommy! What happened to sticking it to the man? Fighting for what your country stands for? Not rolling over and dying?!”
“I care deeply for my country, Fundy.” Tubbo’s ear twitched. “I care for it’s protection, and for the safety of my civilians. It would be inhumane to risk the safety of hundreds of civilians to protect one.”
Tommy saw yellow wings puff up in the corner of his eye, Fundy’s hairs standing up straight. Everybody was getting angry—if Dream was, Tommy couldn’t tell.
He couldn’t speak up. He wouldn’t know what to say. He could hear Quackity protest against his exile, could hear Tubbo’s rebuttal.
“Tubbo—” Tommy managed to say, making the ram glance over. “Don’t do this, don’t— isn’t it supposed to be us against the world? Against anyone who opposes us? Just… just fight with us, or let it go, or, or… just— we could be done with this, we can solve this, can’t we?”
The detachment is back in Tubbo’s voice, which hurts Tommy more than he would ever dare to admit. “Yeah, we could have. If you had listened. I told you before, I’ve been telling you—if you had just listened to me, none of this would’ve happened. But you refuse to, you always have to cause some problem! You are always at the scene of the crime, always “wrong place, wrong time”! I can’t risk it any more! I want my civilians to feel safe. It is my responsibility as president. It is not my fault this has not caught up to you yet.”
“Tubbo—”
“Dream.”
As his name is called, the man looks over, the smiley on his mask never changing.
“I hereby, officially, exile TommyInnit from L’Manburg.”
Tommy starts to panic, his tail swatting from left to right. “Tubbo!”
“Please. Escort him from my country.”
“TUBBO!”
Tommy’s shouts may as well have fallen upon deaf ears. It didn’t matter to him, he kept shouting as he felt a hand grip his arm and start to drag him off.
---
Dazed, Tommy sat in the back of an oaken boat. His tail wraps around his knees and his hand has started bleeding from how much the demon hybrid had been gnawing on it. The fangs probably didn’t help much, either, but it would not stop him.
In front of him sits Dream, who is rowing towards some undisclosed location. Around him floats Ghostbur—Tommy had not quite gotten used to the apparition of his late brother. The ghost seemed… childish, in his gleefulness and innocence. Tommy could do nothing but despise it; Ghostbur was nothing like Wilbur—the man had been a menace when alive. A paranoid and unstable and deeply hateful man, but at least he could express more than happiness. In fact, he expressed pretty much everything but happiness—a complete counterpart in every possible way to Ghostbur.
Ghostbur, who was chatting with Dream (and attempting to with Tommy) as if this was a vacation. A day out, maybe a week. Tommy could only hope it would last a short while.
“Relish in the attention you got back home, Tommy. I doubt people are going to want to visit you here.” Dream spoke, snapping the demon hybrid back to reality.
“But they can, right? Whenever they want?” He tries not to let desperation seep through his words.
Dream scoffs. “Yeah, yeah. They can.”
“And they will, yeah? They’re my friends, of course they will!” The boy reassures himself and shoves away the looming feeling over him. He vaguely hears Dream spout out something but doesn’t care to listen until he’s lunged forward a bit. Immediately he’s back to shouting. “Hey! What gives?!”
Dream turns slightly towards him, glaring, Tommy assumes, then repeats himself. “We’re here. Hitting the sand will cause the boat to suddenly stop, so hold on.”
“Could’ve said that before we hit the damn thing,” Tommy mutters as he stands up to get out of the small boat. His legs hurt like hell from sitting in that cramped place for so long.
“I did. You ought to learn to listen, it’ll be favourable to you.”
Dream seems to make not a single noise as he exits the boat and drags it onto the shore. Wilbur Ghostbur starts yapping again.
“Isn’t this place so pretty? Come on Tommy, look!” His voice echoes a little as he points towards the field in front of him. Half of it seems to be surrounded by forest, the other half borders the ocean, though only a bit of it really is a beach. Lining the edge of the forest are a handful of different flowers, though one stands out. Literally, these flowers are taller than the others, maybe around half a meter length in total. The pink-ish petals make a circular shape inwards.
“Those are pretty, do they mean anything?” Tommy asks, sat on a wooden fence while kicking his feet. He’s looking into a garden with a whole bunch of different flowers, all different colours and smells. Further ahead is Philza, hands covered in dirt as he removes any weeds from the flowers. He smiles softly at the question.
”These,” Philza starts, pointing at the small, white flowers, “represent… purity, and humility, if I remember correctly. It is said they are taken to the gates of heaven with someone, once they pass.”
”They look like bells. Are they bells? Techno likes those.” The boy babbles, as he looks at the droopy nature of the plant.
Philza hums. “They do look like bells, and there is a flower called a bellflower, but it doesn’t look like this—these are lily of the valleys.”
A firm hand on his shoulder abruptly drags him from his thoughts, and the feeling is gone before Tommy registers it must’ve been Dream. He tears his eyes away from the flowers which are definitely not lily of the valleys, but he doesn’t know what they actually are.
Feeling rain start to hit his head, he turns to see Dream creating a small, dirt hut. Ghostbur seems to be very grateful, hiding underneath the small dry patch to avoid being hit by the droplets.
Tommy walks on over, making a point out of finishing the hut with the few pieces of cobblestone he was carrying with him. Dream doesn’t verbally respond so Tommy can only assume his reaction through a concealed facial expression. He doesn’t seem particularly happy, though that’s not new at all. Instead of lingering on it, Tommy simply enters the hut and puts down a single torch for light.
“Alright, Tommy,” Dream starts and Tommy resists the urge to roll his eyes. He watches Dream dig a hole in the ground with a confused expression—what does he need more dirt for? And why do it in such an ugly manner?
“Drop all your items in the hole.”
The request-which-sounds-like-a-demand is so outlandish to Tommy that it takes him a couple seconds to register that Dream is dead serious.
“What? I’m not going to—” He starts, watching Ghostbur empty his inventory without further question or hesitation. Clearly not Wilbur. “Ghostbur! What’re you— what the hell?!” Tommy exclaims, before turning back to Dream, who is staring at him pointedly. “What if I don’t, huh? Bitch.”
“I will kill you.” Dream responds in a manner that is way too calm to be saying that sort of stuff. Tommy’s breath hitches, but he doesn’t back down.
“You won’t— you won’t, bitch, you can’t kill me, so—” He’s cut off by the noise of Dream unsheathing his axe, holding it still. It shimmers a faintly glowing purple from the enchantments, and is clearly netherite underneath.
All of Tommy’s planned protests linger in his throat as he watches the blade reel back. The only words he manages to squeeze out are “okay, okay, fine don’t-”
Tommy hears Dream’s laughter as he drops everything from his inventory and despite having no explanation for it, the sound sends chills down his spine.
The smell of gunpowder fills his nostrils as his countries goes up before his eyes. As his brain feebly tries to process what’s happening, where the explosions are coming from, who… could have done it. People are yelling and he is being dragged somewhere. The smoke fills his lungs and he can’t breath. He can’t breath- he tries to inhale deeply but only ends up coughing as he inhales more of the burnt smell.
”—ommy? Tommy are you alright?”
“Do you want some blue?”
He feels a wet blob be pushed into his hands, dripping down onto the grass through his fingers as he stares at the hole in the ground. Tommy keeps coughing, moving his hand to cover his mouth and dropping the blob in the process.
“It’s really not that much smoke, the way you’re acting makes it look like I detonated enough TNT to destroy a nation!” Dream cackles, stepping back from the hole. Tommy gathers his bearings before looking over. At the bottom of the hole was a bit of rubble, though none of his items had survived what must’ve been an explosion.
“You are such a dick, you know that? You’re being a dick, and a bitch and—” He looked over to Dream who (probably) was glaring daggers at him.
“Well, it’s getting late… Time for me to head out. Goodbye Tommy.”
Before the boy could protest, Dream had pearled away, leaving purple particles to flutter to the ground.
“Tommy! Hey Tommy, guess what?” He heard the echoing voice of Ghostbur snicker. “You know when he told us to drop everything?” He pauses, as if waiting to say a punchline. “I didn’t!”
The ghostly form pulled out a shovel and a pickaxe from his inventory, showing them off to the blonde.
“Well this may surprise you big man,” Tommy replied, sticking his hand into his pocket. “But neither did I!” In his hand was a crumpled photograph, which he quickly tries to undo, without success.
Tracing his fingers over the messy folds, he looks at Tubbo’s face on the picture. The ram was grinning larger than Tommy ever managed to capture on camera again. His arm slung around Tommy, who was clearly yelling at someone when the picture had been taken. Despite that, his arm was slung around the other, too. They were dressed in uniforms that, despite being taken in already, were obviously too large for either of them. Another piece of evidence to show the uniforms were not made for them were the haphazardly cut holes to create room for Tubbo’s horns and ears, as well as the small tents poked into Tommy’s hat by his horns. They’d been too small for people to consider cutting holes, hopeful the boy could just hide them in his curls. Tubbo’s situation was harder to deny and ignore, though no one was happy having to make adjustments. Tommy had almost punched everyone who dared to make an annoyed face at it.
As he turns it to look at the back, he reads the text he’s read more times than he can count. Soldier boys gotta stick together—I’ll be true to you. He recalls that night with ease. The man taking the picture had commented on their clothes, referred to them as “soldier boys”, and Wilbur had made a jab which Tommy still did not really understand the implication behind. “Means you’ve got to be true to each other ‘n shit, it’s decided! Not like I’d expect any different—you’re practically morphed into one another.”
And despite the scrabbled promise Tubbo had made, despite the affection-filled-insult Wilbur had made, Tommy was still here, alone. Because Ghostbur wasn’t really… anyone. Not anyone he really wanted to be around all the time. There was just something so off about him that being around him was weird. Ghostbur however clearly did not seem to understand the hint as Tommy promptly ignored him to go mining, wanting to at least gather some materials back.
His tail swats around him in annoyance as the cave he found only gave him bits of coal, sometimes some iron ore. The stale air in the tunnels bothered him, though only because it felt exactly the same as back in Pogtopia and because Ghostbur didn’t have the sense to smell or feel it. No, Ghostbur chatted away as if nothing even mattered. He went on about blue and death and blue and blue again and how he melts in the water and then he talked about fucking blue again.
“Ghostbur this is like the fifth time you’ve started going on about fucking blue—shut up.” Tommy snapped at him, glaring at the ghost.
“Is it? Sorry, my memory really isn’t what it used to be haha…” His laugh sounds forced, but it fails to make Tommy feel guilty. He refuses to let his dead brother make him feel guilty. He’s dead! He can’t feel anything, meanwhile Tommy has to put up with the consequences of what Wilbur did to L’Manburg, he has to put up with Wilbur being dead, he has to deal with being exiled. Ghostbur could fucking melt for all Tommy cared.
Fresh air felt like a gift as he finally climbed back up to settle for the night. It must’ve been well past midnight, but Tommy didn’t own a clock, and his communicator stupidly had run out of battery. He didn’t think he had to recharge it before meeting with Tubbo earlier. He knew how absurdly long those damn batteries last, could do a day with 7%, so 3% for an hour was nothing! Tommy barely resisted the urge to throw and shatter the thing, instead stuffing it into a quickly crafted chest, along with most of the stone he had found. The remaining bits he uses to craft a furnace, lifting in the iron ores and coal he’d collected.
While his “house” is illuminated by the small fire eating away at coal pieces, Tommy decides to place some torches around. He is not in the mood to be dealing with mobs today. They’re in the mood to mess with him though, while he runs around the field. He barely avoids a few arrows and manages to kill a creeper right before it would explode. Despite that, he’s determined to finish the task at hand to at least avoid that mess in the future.
The light from inside slowly dies out, beckoning Tommy to walk back. He carefully collects the iron and stuffs it in the chest next to the pile of stone and communicator, but leaves the leftover coal in the furnace.
He wasn’t sure when Ghostbur had left—maybe during his escapade outside?—but he couldn’t bring himself to be too worried. It’s not like he could die after all, so he would be fine.
Tommy lets himself drop onto the bed, tired. Taking a little nap wouldn’t be the same as accepting the conditions he’s in, it doesn’t mean he’s fine with everything going on. He was going to find his way back, or at least make sure someone would visit him if it was the last thing he did. First thing on the agenda though… getting some shut-eye.