Chapter Text
The next several days after feel like a drawn out breath of relief.
It’s quite an impossible challenge to tear the children or families apart, which leads to some awfully cramped carriage rides. They elect to cycle in shifts, extending the journey home by at least a day. It’s worth it, of course.
Before leaving, they recover Ranboo’s book - something the kid is beyond ecstatic to reclaim. It’s Wilbur’s stroke of genius that leads them to purchase Tommy a red leather journal of his own, to track down his new and restored memories.
The kids have been having a field day flipping through worn pages and filling out crisp, new ones. Phil’s heart hurts to learn that Ranboo has no record of any family or where he came from. He supposes with a bitter aftertaste that the child was more than likely a street kid like Tommy before Dream snatched him up for his experiments.
The first order of business once their carriages roll back into town is to take all the injured straight to Sam’s lab. Of course, no one’s injuries are urgent thanks to Quackity’s extensive potion supply, but that doesn’t leave any exempt from assessment.
Phil can’t help but wince at the look on Sam’s face when they all file in - he’ll have to be sure to pay the man triple for his services this time, regardless of his protests.
First to be assessed is Tommy. And while Sam can’t give them much more than Karl regarding his memory, he sure has his work cut out for him when it comes to the boy’s arm.
“It’s been re-broken and re-fused in several places, I- …He’s going to need surgery, Phil,” the man sighs, massaging his temples with stress.
Taking care to compose himself, Phil merely nods, squeezing his fists. He doesn’t even want to think about how that happened - he can’t. He wishes he could kill the bastard all over again.
“But Phil, ” Sam adds pointedly, staring him down. “I can’t tell when the fusings began, but they were fusing wrong, and it was clearly influenced by potions. I would have had to re-break them regardless.”
Ducking his head, Phil swallows thickly. He was afraid of this, but worrying did nothing to change his actions, now did it? Sam continues staring in the awkward, condemning silence, utterly unimpressed.
“After this surgery, you better wrap this kid up in foam - because he is completely banned from potion usage until his arm fully heals. Do you understand me?”
Phil hurriedly nods, too terrified and guilty for speech. Prime, an entire deadly road trip full of assassins, death traps, and terrible flashbacks to his war times, but it’s still Sam that puts the divine fear in him.
They treat the rest of Tommy’s wounds (potion-free), and they’re familiar to Phil from the first time they found the child - deep cuts and swollen bruises unquestionably caused by his own vines and thorns. But the worst of the wounds aren’t around his arms and head, as they previously determined to be caused by his rage.
No, far more disturbingly, his worst wounds are around his throat - the place they’ve found favoured by his white vines and thorns. Fear. And the most twisted - self-hatred.
But rather than interrogating an amnesiac child about his deepest trauma that can’t be undone anyhow, they just care for wounds - coating them in a new concoction Sam produced in anticipation of their arrival. It treats the swelling and creates a numbing sensation. Tommy squirms and giggles about it being ‘tickly’, but luckily it seems to set in well.
Next up for assessment is Ranboo. Sam is morbidly fascinated by the condition of his eye, but he has little success with anything other than determining it’s not painful or dangerous to the kid. He doesn’t think it’s safely reversible, but it may just fade over time.
Ranboo seems content enough with this, so they leave it be.
“Could you take a look at Kristin for a second?” Phil dares to ask, ignoring his wife’s glare.
Sam gives him a puzzled frown. “Why? Where are you hurt?”
“I’m fine, it healed over already! It’s nothing!” Kristin insists, waving a hand.
With a sharp breath, Phil snaps back, “You got shot! ”
“You got what?! ”
Lastly, the man examines Wilbur. Phil holds his breath and his wife’s hand through the whole process, mind racing through every terrible possibility. Their son seems to be recovering, his pain fading and energy returning, but they’ve already noticed some lingering effects.
Most obvious, his blackened fingertips. They look horribly frostbitten, and all of his skin has remained cold to the touch. His tongue is also discoloured, and he’s noted difficulty tasting and feeling things with his fingers.
With a heavy grimace, Sam confirms what they’ve been fearing - nerve damage. The side-effects are likely permanent, with some hope of partial recovery over time.
“Withering…” the man murmurs, wiping his brow like even the thought is exhausting. “It’s… very uncommon to find on the living. I’d just thank Prime he’s still here… there’s not much else to be done for it.”
And Phil has. He hasn’t stopped thanking Prime, and Karl, and just about anything that listens that all his sons and his wife and all his loved ones are still here with him. He doesn’t think he’ll ever stop being grateful.
They prep for surgery next, Phil trying to encourage Puffy to take the others back to her place, but Ranboo refuses to leave without Tommy and Tubbo refuses to leave without Ranboo. So… they all just hunker down in the lab and wait for the surgery to be done.
Sam calls in Hannah Rose to assist him, and they set Tommy up on the operating table. Hannah leans over, offering the boy a tall glass of water.
“Here, sip carefully, okay? This has some weakness potion to help you sleep through the surgery,” she explains, smiling softly.
But the child’s face pales, and he jerks away from her, nearly knocking the glass.
“ No! ” he shrieks, scrambling back as white wines wrap around him.
Hannah just starts in surprise and Phil’s heart jumps to his throat. “Tommy-”
“No!” he hollers again, sliding off the table and backing against the wall.
He’s breathing in ragged, eyes wide and glazed with terror. Phil recognizes the look immediately - Tommy is not seeing what’s truly in front of him.
Stepping forward, Phil reaches for the boy, but another body races past much faster, crossing the distance in a blink. Ranboo is at his side, clutching Tommy protectively and putting himself between him and Hannah.
“Leave him alone! Get away!”
“Wait- I’m not-”
“I said get away! ”
Sam steps up as Hannah stumbles back and Phil is getting dizzy with the speed of all of this unfolding. Now there’s too many people moving, speaking, shouting-
Raising his hands, Phil halts Techno, Wilbur and Sam all at once. “Stop, stop it! Everyone stop!”
Ranboo’s head snaps to him in an instant, posture still keyed up for a fight, but gaze cautiously curious. Tommy clings to him and Tubbo, who- Phil didn’t even see the shorter boy appear.
With a deep, forced inhale, Phil slowly lowers himself to his knees, trying to meet both Ranboo and Tommy’s eyes. “Just breathe, everyone breathe… You kids are safe, no one’s going to hurt you.”
He watches Ranboo’s hesitant gaze flicker to Tommy and to Tubbo - the former still swamped with panic and the latter sending a silent vouch. The trio all seem to be taking the suggestion to breathe, which is one slight weight off of Phil’s chest.
“Tommy…?” Ranboo whispers after a moment, half turning towards the boy who’s death-gripping him as he lets the silent question hang.
Despite all the words cluttering the tip of his tongue, Phil holds it, waiting for the panicked child to calm down enough to voice what’s wrong. Tommy blinks, eyes still darting between Hannah and Sam, lungs still struggling. He murmurs something too quiet, even Ranboo leans closer to hear.
“Sorry, what was that?” the kid prompts, but Tubbo speaks before Tommy can repeat himself.
“He said he doesn’t want to forget again.”
The words feel like a blade to Phil’s chest, twisting deep as Tommy cowers back, hazy, blue eyes pooling with tears. Something flickers over Ranboo’s expression, and abruptly he turns back and grasps the blond by both shoulders.
“I watched her, Tommy. She only put in three drops. Just enough so you won’t feel pain or wake up, nothing more,” the kid assures him earnestly. “You’ll remember. You won’t forget anything.”
Somehow Ranboo’s assurances are only more daggers to Phil’s heart, finally piercing through his confusion with bitter, biting clarity. Not only is Tommy clearly traumatized by being drugged, but every bit of horrifyingly intimate knowledge of potions and their effects that Ranboo displays will surely keep the man up for weeks.
“...Promise?” Tommy croaks, a single tear spilling out as his friend nods without hesitation.
“Tommy,” Phil finally finds his voice. “We all promise you are safe here. If you’re not comfortable, we don’t have to do the surgery yet.”
He ignores the glare from Sam at that last comment, focusing solely on the way that Tommy’s shoulders are slowly easing of tension. Suddenly Techno is crouching beside him, a little closer to the trio.
“We never would’ve let anythin' happen to ya that ya didn’t want, Theseus,” he says like a vow.
And like the final bit of pressure collapsing a dam, Tommy’s face crumples before he launches himself into Techno’s waiting embrace. Sam flinches at the reckless movement, but luckily the boy is gracefully caught in a way that he does not land on his cast.
Not wanting to crowd the boy, Phil lets Wilbur fold to his knees on his twin’s other side to stroke Tommy’s hair, while he himself just squeezes Techno’s shoulder.
After a few moments, Techno lifts one hand off Tommy’s back and carefully reaches and rests it on Ranboo’s shoulder, only slightly startling the kid.
“Hey, good job protectin’ him, kid,” the teen praises with a small smirk. “Keepin' watch like that, runnin' to his side even when ya didn’t know what was wrong. Ya did good.”
The way Ranboo positively glows under the praise - shyly tucking into himself and playing with his hair - might just reduce Phil to atoms. Tubbo smiling and taking the kid’s hand certainly doesn’t help that possibility.
After about another half hour of calming down, Tommy shakily declares that he’s ready for the surgery. He demands to be the one to hold the glass and drink from it, which they of course happily oblige. He also demands for Techno and Ranboo to stand guard, but he hardly needed to ask for that anyway.
Pride swells in Phil’s chest as Tommy bravely sets his shoulders and slowly drinks the diluted potion down. White morning glories tangle Phil’s hair as Techno takes the empty cup and gently lays the sluggish boy on the table.
Against their preference, Sam and Phil allow Techno and Ranboo to stay for the surgery. Honestly, Phil doesn’t think they’d be able to force them out in any case.
And Techno is the calmest he’s been for days, still over-cautious and mentally wounded from his violent breakdown before. It’s hard enough for Phil himself to leave the room, he knows Techno would spiral terribly. He doesn’t want to tear his son away from the source of the calm he’s found - back into that wound-up hell, making him afraid of himself, feeling like a dangerous monster.
The teen knows what surgery entails - he knows there will be blood, and knives turned on Tommy’s injury. He swears to Phil he will let Ranboo be the one to watch carefully. Techno will only watch the boy’s expression, ensuring he remains at peace.
“I’m fine, Dad, I promise. Ya know I wouldn’t ask to stay if I wasn’t,” he adds meaningfully, and Phil knows it’s the truth.
If only Ranboo could be convinced. The boy should not be so used to any of this, he just wishes they could shelter the kid from the horrors he’s already comfortable in.
The rest of them reluctantly clear the room and Phil binds himself to his love and support, burying his face in Kristin’s hair to try to breathe her in and block out the swirling anxieties barraging his mind.
He knows without the understanding squeeze that his wife feels the same - like an unbearable weight is pushing down on their ribs every second that a single member of their family is out of eyesight. It’s a drowning panic, a mindless, screaming urge to propel himself forward until he can find his sons and at last gasp for air.
They are safe. His promise to Tommy was not empty. Sam and Hannah are old and trusted friends. They’re skilled experts in their craft. Nothing bad will happen to his children in their presence. Nothing will happen. He knows this.
But his every thought insists upon the countless things surely going wrong. The carefully counted dose was wrong. Somehow the boy’s mind will be destroyed. He won’t wake and be trapped once more in limbo.
Or Tommy will wake up early and panic, and then Techno and Ranboo will panic, and then everything will turn red and violent and in the tumbling, whirling mess blades will pierce and bones will break and Phil will lose everything and everyone they all fought so hard to protect–
“Love,” Kristin’s hushed, sweet voice cuts through the screaming noise.
Phil stiffens, abruptly aware of his heaving breaths as dead branches crumble from his ribs. Kristin’s thumb brushes down his jawline, her arm reaching around the back of Wilbur’s neck. The trembling teen is tucked tight against her side, but even he is staring up at his father with shining concern.
“Sorry,” Phil gasps, blinking back stinging tears. “I’m alright.”
His wife gives him a look he knows too well, but it’s Wilbur who beats her to the punch.
“You have ‘nothing to be sorry for’, Dad, ” he drawls pointedly, and Phil is immediately choked up, flashing back to tearful conversation in a bathroom that feels like a lifetime ago.
“Your son is right, Phil,” Kristin playfully scolds, pressing a kiss onto his cheek and parting with a flurry of falling white and black petals. “And don’t you lie to me, love. We’re all falling apart together, no need to be brave about it.”
A tear runs down his cheek as a chuckle bursts past his lips at that and he relents, pulling them close with a sigh. They drop all pretenses of stability and crumple to the ground as one.
“Yes, together…” Phil mutters softly, tears streaming. “As a family.”
They remain like that until the creaking of the door signals the end of the surgery. It’s Hannah that greets them, cheerfully announcing that the process was a complete success.
Wasting no time stampeding the room, they’re quick to wrap Techno into their disaster cuddle pile, scooping one unfortunate Ranboo in the eagerness. The kid luckily doesn’t seem to mind, offering no more protest than a startled squeal and mildly uncomfortable body language.
Techno is quick to come to his rescue, freeing him from their affectionate bonds with a whisper of: “Go, kid… remember me.”
He’s no doubt confused by the theatrics, but the roaring laughter and Techno’s poorly hidden smirk seems to ease the anxiety. Especially when Tubbo joins in on it, coming up beside Ranboo.
“Look at the legendary Technoblade, defeated by his only weakness - family affection!” the boy teases, leaning into the taller kid’s side.
With a startle, Ranboo turns wide, disbelieving eyes on Techno. “Your name is Technoblade? ”
Now, Phil and Kristin manage to stifle their snickers, but Wilbur doesn’t remotely bother hiding the sharp cackle that bursts out of him. Techno’s cheeks burn just slightly red as he struggles in their cuddling branches to grab for his hysterical twin.
“I was seven when I chose it, no one calls me- Wilbur, I will strangle you-!”
“What, you’re not gonna stab me with your Techno-blade? Ack-”
As soon as Techno gets his brother into a headlock, all the bravado is evaporated. Wilbur is left blue-faced and squirming, somehow still inexplicably amused.
“Okay, boys, that’s-”
“I think it’s really cool!”
Phil could swear that time freezes for a single moment after Ranboo speaks those words - grinning wide and endearingly earnest. Techno does not release Wilbur just yet, but his face does burn a little brighter, eyes dropping away.
“Oh. Uh… thanks…” he mumbles.
Phil forces himself not to coo, lest his son completely melt away in embarrassment. He can see Tubbo and Wilbur both wisely holding back, especially as Techno finally lets his twin breathe. Ranboo is still beaming like an angel, seemingly unaware of the impact he’s just made.
They’re definitely going to have to figure out a way to keep this kid close.
After a little while, Sam steps in to inform them that Tommy won’t be waking for another few hours, so they can once again take him back home to rest. They hope that waking up in a familiar environment will help with not only the boy’s panic, but his memory.
Once again, they are faced with the conundrum of none of them wanting to separate from each other for even a moment, but Puffy easily relents that they’ll all continue moving together to Phil’s home and stay there, at least until nightfall.
That will be a bridge they burn only once they're forced to walk it.
In the minimal attention Phil has spared for Tubbo’s family, he’s found himself mildly intrigued that Puffy and Schlatt seem to be interacting on neutral terms. They still bicker and are hardly cuddly or affectionate with each other - but now it’s more in the petty way that siblings are, rather than the venomous festering of mortal enemies.
He supposes that caring for their kid through mortal danger like they did can have that effect. Still, it warms the man’s heart. Especially seeing the way Schlatt is watching so attentively over his son, and how dramatically the man has changed.
Now Phil will not soon forget that day two years ago - Schlatt was beyond out of line, and his grief was absolutely no excuse to mistreat his own child the way he did. Phil doesn’t regret what he did. Telling the people the truth of Schlatt’s alcoholism and abuse was the right thing to do, and costing the man the election was truly for his benefit.
Of course, Quackity was an unfortunate casualty in that situation, but Phil was not in control of the way the people responded. And he can’t really harbour any remorse over the man’s undoing when he’d turned it into a years-long revenge plot that harmed innocent children.
It was an uneasy thing, leaving Purpled and Charlie in that crazed man’s care, but Schlatt assured them all they would be well taken care of and he’d personally see to it that they return to L’Manberg as soon as they’re well. The look in his eyes was enough for Phil to trust his word.
With all of that, forgiving Schlatt is no simple thing. But if Tubbo is accepting the man back into his life, and even Puffy is willing to reconnect with him, then Phil can work on the same.
And so they all cram into Phil’s single carriage once more, leaving Puffy’s to be picked up later from Sam’s, and head off together for home.
–
Tommy is surrounded by warmth and softness, swaddling him like a loving embrace. His thoughts drag lazily through a peaceful current, slowly drawing his consciousness closer and closer to the surface.
Stubbornly, he tucks further into himself - into the perfect warmth. He doesn’t want to leave it yet. It’s so lovely here, floating in between awareness and sleep. That’s a funny thought. It tickles something strangely cold in the back of his brain.
He frowns and tries to shake it away, still chasing after that drifting current that now seems to be drifting away from him. A dull pain pulses through his skull and echoes sharper along his arm. A grouchy groan slips out and he sneers.
No, he doesn’t want pain. He doesn’t want to be awake. Why do they always have to go together? He’s so sick of pain…
He falls limp into the warmth - they feel like cushions. Something itches inside his head at the thought, making his head pound. It’s that weird, fuzzy feeling… What does he know it from?
Oh…
Suddenly there are fingers scratching his scalp, trailing soothing circles through his damp, itchy curls. Tommy melts into it, sighing softly, content. All the pain and fuzziness washes away back into cradling warmth. He knows this.
A sloppy smile tugs at his lips as he remembers, settling into the comfort and the gentle, humming tune.
He is home.
