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"Three,"
Jack Manifold nervously glances down at his communicator.
"Two,"
Nihachu whispers to you: hes in position launch it now!!
"One. Insert your keycard!"
Jack shoves the keycard into its slot, and the nuclear missile fires into the sky in a glorious arc, headed perfectly towards its calculated coordinates.
It shouldn't be long before–
TommyInnit was nuked from orbit.
Nihachu was nuked from orbit.
Niki has plenty of lives to spare, and comes back to existence in the bedroom of her house, eyes full of tears, gentle voice shaking as she clutches her bedsheets and questions how this could have happened, that she didn't look at her communicator, that she was just collecting resources with Tommy when they died in less time than it takes to blink.
She's a talented actress. Jack was her co-conspirator and even with full knowledge that she was in on the plot from beginning, he almost believes she had no idea it would happen.
Tubbo is sitting in a chair at the end of the room. He's had the same blank expression on his face since Tommy's death message showed up in chat. He hasn't moved since Jack steered him into his seat. He sits, silent, and stares at nothing at all.
Admittedly, Jack does feel bad for this part. In the planning of their perfect assassination, he hadn't really considered what it would do to Tubbo, thinking he had killed his best friend through a freak accident, or worse, negligence. Jack liked Tubbo. He didn't deserve that.
"Hey, man," Jack puts one hand on Tubbo's shoulder, "This wasn't your fault, okay?"
Tubbo stands up sharply, and flees from the room.
Shit.
Well, it's for the best, anyway. At least now, without Tommy, things will calm down.
Things do not calm down.
It's been a month since Tommy's death, and everything has stayed exactly as shitty as it ever was.
Jack is beginning to think that maybe, just perhaps, he might have been wrong about exactly how much of the blame lay on Tommy's shoulders.
Dream had seen Tommy's death message in chat, and had promised to bring him back, as long as he was let out of prison. Sam put his foot down hard on that one, refusing not only to let Dream out, but also to let anyone else in, on the off chance that they might try to free Dream for Tommy's sake.
Tubbo was perpetually on the verge of using a second nuke on Pandora's Vault, and the only thing keeping him from actually going through with it was Ranboo, who reminded Tubbo that a dead Dream could revive no one at all. In the wake of Tommy's death, those two had become alarmingly co-dependent in a shockingly short time frame.
Once clingy, always clingy, Jack supposed. It wasn't as though Ranboo would argue with the situation.
Jack himself had moved away from Snowchester, back to his original home of Manifold Land. Every few days, Philza Minecraft would walk over from wherever it was he was living these days, one and a half wings trailing behind him, and would spend the day wandering around the ruins of L'Manburg, beautifying them. Every few days, Jack would give a polite nod to the man, and Philza would return it with a tired smile.
Tommy wasn't actually his kid, Jack didn't think he was anyway. He knew Wilbur had seen him as a little brother and given him all the extra leeway of one, even in wartime, but they had never shared blood.
Jack watches Philza as his smile fails to reach his eyes and wonders, blood or no, had Philza seen Tommy as his kid to the same degree that Wilbur had seen him as a brother?
"Niki," Jack says, eyebrows raising, "Didn't expect you today,"
"Hi Jack," Niki smiles sadly, "May I come in?"
"'Course you can," Jack steps aside to let her in, "You're always welcome here,"
Jack makes tea, because he is a good host and Niki is the sort of person who deserves good manners, and they sit at his kitchen table. There is a plate of shortbread biscuits between them. Neither one has the appetite for snacks.
"So," Niki begins, staring down as she fiddles with her mug, "I've been thinking about–"
"It didn't work," Jack blurts out, startling her somewhat, "Sorry. But it didn't, did it?"
"No," Niki says, the corners of her mouth pulling down, "It didn't. Not even a little bit,"
"I mean, fuck!" Jack drags one hand down his face, "If anything, shit's worse now, what with the fucking nuke threats,"
"We probably should have considered that Tubbo wouldn't take it well," Niki takes a small sip of her tea, "This is lovely, by the way,"
"Well," Jack sighs, "Thanks. And you're right, but–"
"But we were so sure it would fix everything,"
"It should have!" Jack smacks his mug down into the table, sloshing tea over the rim and onto his hand, "Ah, fuck!"
"Are you okay?!"
"Fine, I'm fine. Just–" Jack hisses, using the bottom of his shirt to dry his hand, "Fuck, I wish I hadn't done that,"
"Tommy? Or the tea?" Niki laughs, half heartedly, "…Sorry,"
Jack lets out a slightly hysterical burst of laughter.
"Both," he says, chest tightening, "Honestly? Fucking both,"
They sit in slightly uncomfortable silence for a moment. Niki rubs at her mug with one thumb, opens her mouth, and then closes it again. She shifts in her seat, biting her lip.
"What if–" she starts, "What if we did undo it?"
"Pretty sure fire resistance potions only work if you use them before burning yourself,"
"No," Niki exhales, "I meant Tommy, actually. I've been talking to Techno recently, and–"
"Niki!" Jack's face scrunches in shock, "Why the hell would you be in contact with Technoblade of all people?!"
"He owes Dream a favour–"
"That's worse than what I was imagining, Niki! You're making it worse! This is not a good reason to be talking to Technoblade!"
"Listen to me!" Niki snaps, silencing a panicking Jack Manifold, "Techno owes Dream a favour, he's asked that Techno break him out of prison–"
"Oh, God,"
"–and it's going to happen, Jack. With or without us. But if we help, then he'll owe us a favour. We can get Tommy back! Everything goes back to normal!"
"That's what we said about killing him in the first place!" Jack leans across the table, eyes wide behind bicoloured lenses, "Think this through, Niki! Things suck now, sure, but at least Dream's not loose on society! Why would you actively try to change that?"
"Well it's not like either of us know a way out of Limbo!"
Jack opens his mouth to retort, and freezes. Slowly, he sits back in his chair.
"Oh," Jack says, alarmingly calm.
"Exactly, so–"
"No, Niki, wait," Jack tilts his head, "I might actually have an idea,"
"This feels like a bad idea, Jack," Niki says, leveling the crossbow at her friend's head.
"Niki, trust me. I'll be fine. Just don't stop firing until I'm dead, and…" Jack's mouth thins into a line, "Try to make it quick?"
"I'll make it as painless as possible," Niki promises, and squeezes the trigger.
Jack thinks about how he and Tubbo are about to have another thing in common now, and then his brain matter is too splattered across the walls to be able to think anything at all.
.
.
.
It feels just like last time. A sinking sensation like someone has woven a rope from his intestines, tied an anchor to it, and dropped it off a cliff. He feels violently ill, but he has no stomach to empty, so he just has to deal with the sensation.
Fucking perpetually shitty afterlife.
Nothing good ever happens on this server.
Slowly, the falling sensation turns to a forward pulling one, and a train carriage forms into existence around him. The doors between the carriages open, and a figure in a conductor's uniform walks through, headed for Jack. They extend their hand towards him.
"…I don't have a ticket," Jack says.
The figure extends their hand more firmly, crowding into Jack's space, as if doing so will somehow coax a ticket into existence.
"I don't have one!" Jack smacks it's hand away, standing up to force the being backwards, "And if I did, I wouldn't give it to you. Fucking pushy dickhead,"
The conductor backs away, and the train stops.
Like instantly, just stops dead.
The forces of inertia still exist on this plane of existence, and they throw Jack Manifold into the doors between the carriages just as violently as they would in the mortal realm, and he swears just as violently as if this had happened to his physical body. Can't be sick, can't bruise, but can experience the pain of both of those things in lifelike realism.
Fucking. Perpetually. Shitty. Afterlife.
The doors that would open onto the platform, were they at a station, slide open to a void of nothingness instead, and Jack feels the tugging sensation again, this time dragging him out of the train.
"Oh, fucking– Come on, man!" Jack grabs for any part of the train interior he can reach, and his hands slide through the metal poles like they're mere illusions.
Maybe they are. Who's to say?
Not fucking Jack, apparently.
Jack gets dumped on the partially-existent ground next to the tracks, and as soon as the doors slide shut, the train is off again, at the same pace as it had been before its impromptu pitstop, as though it had never even faltered in its journey.
Fine.
Fine.
Jack had two working legs, and while the… Actually, he hesitated to really call it ground. It was barely anything. Jack could feel himself sinking into it. But instead of sinking physically, it was more like his essence or… soul or whatever was melting into it, becoming the weird half-nothingness.
No fucking thank you.
Jack steps onto the tracks, comfortably firm beneath his feet, and strides after the train.
"Wilbur, you know I love you like a brother–"
"Stop, I will cry,"
"– but we have got to start doing this in turns,"
"What? No, look, you're just not doing it right,"
"I know I'm not doing it right, dickhead! It's impossible to do it right! You can't play solitaire with half a deck of cards!"
"Well it's not competitive if we don't do it at once, and we only have the one deck!"
"Why don't we just… Use a timer?"
"Oh, a timer! How clever! Wait. Oh no, I seem to not have one on me at the moment. How unfortunate. Do you have a timer, Tommy?"
"Fuck off, don't be a dick. Fine. Let's just make Schlatt count, he's impartial,"
"Do not drag me into your weird card shit,"
Jack is exhausted as he approaches the platform. Not physically, but mentally. He has been in that fucking tunnel for almost two weeks, and he has had nothing to do but walk, and nothing to look at but train tracks and, occasionally, a train that runs right through him like a ghost. Limbo fucking hates Jack Manifold, and he's not sure what he did to deserve it, but the feeling is extremely mutual.
Finally in line of sight of the voices that had been echoing down the tunnel, Jack sees Wilbur and Tommy sitting cross legged across from each other, a full deck of cards spread between them with no clear purpose. It's more three loose piles surrounded by a ring of cards that looks to have been laid out by a particularly stupid toddler, rather than any sort of cohesive solitaire game. Schlatt is sitting directly behind Wilbur, leaning against his back, and seems to be playing spin the bottle… with himself as the only player. On the far side of the platform are two people Jack has never seen before, a tall blond woman with a mask similar to Dream's, and a hispanic man dressed in an identical set of Dream’s clothes, and also draped in a Mexican flag. They're cuddled into each other, ignoring everyone else on the platform.
Well, at least some people are enjoying the afterlife.
Jack slings his arms over the edge of the platform and jumps, trying and failing to climb onto the standing area. He struggles for another minute or so before realizing that his plan simply isn't going to happen.
"Can one of you fucks please give me a hand?!" Jack snaps, glaring at the trio of people he's at least vaguely familiar with.
Schlatt looks up at him.
"Nah,"
Schlatt goes back to spinning his bottle, smirking to himself.
"Jack?" Tommy frowns, "You're dead?"
"Yeah. Or… Fuck, mostly. Probably. Who knows, just help me up!"
"Oh, right," Tommy stands quickly, jogging over to grab Jack's hands.
And is almost pulled onto the tracks himself.
"Fuck! Wilbur! Come help, he's heavy,"
"Ay! I am not! Not my fault you have… stick limbs, you… underdeveloped child,"
"Fuck you!"
"Oh my God," Wilbur rolls his eyes, coming over and pulling him up and finally, finally, Jack is on the platform.
"Fucking hell," Jack groans, lying on his back as Wilbur goes right back to leaning against Schlatt and fucking around with his stupid card piles.
"See, this is why I didn't help," Schlatt chuckles, "Because that? That was fuckin' embarrassing,"
"Shut up, Schlatt. Everyone's glad you're dead," Jack turns his head to glare at Schlatt.
"Oh, wah wah wah. Boo hoo. That's me if I gave a shit," Schlatt let out his signature manic, high pitched laugh.
"Ignore him, he's a dickhead," Tommy says, "But Jack, you died? How'd that happen?"
"Niki shot me with a firework,"
"Ah," Tommy said, awkwardly, "If it makes you feel any better, she also lured me to my death with an explosion, so you're not alone in the betrayal–"
"No, Tommy. I asked her to,"
"Ohhh," Tommy brightens, "Well, we've all been suicidal here. No judgement. Except maybe Mexican Dream and Mamacita. HEY! Pájaros del amor!"
The couple look over at Tommy
"Tendencias suicidas? Si? No?"
They glance at each other, then shake their heads.
"No? Alright," Tommy shrugs, turning back to Jack, "Just us four then. Still, no judgement from those two, they're cool,"
Jack feels… exceptionally wrong-footed. He didn't know how he expected this to go, but this definitely wasn't it.
"The fuck? No!" Jack sits up, "No, I asked her to kill me so I could come get you! And when did you learn fucking Spanish?"
"I've been here for… two and a bit years? And three quarters of the people who were already here spoke it. I picked it up, I guess,"
"Two and– Tommy. You have been dead for a month,"
"Time dilation," Tommy, Wilbur, and Schlatt say at the same time.
"Every day up there," Wilbur points at the ceiling, "Is a month down here. So a month up there, about two years here. Or just over, I don't know. Math is for nerds, and I'm way too cool for that,"
"That is so unbelievably not true, you fucking loser," Schlatt laughs, and Wilbur shoves back into him, sparking a pushing war that is far too childish for two ex-presidents. Prime Ministers? L’Manburg was… inconsistent with its titles.
"I'm choosing to ignore… whatever that is, for the sake of my own sanity," Jack says, gesturing at the baffling and downright friendly behaviour between the pair that, last he checked, were sworn enemies at each other's throats, "Right. Okay. Do you have like, Limbo stuff to pack, or are you all ready to go?"
Tommy blinks at him.
"…Go? Go where, exactly?"
"Back to the overworld,"
"We can't go back," Tommy laughs, "This is it, man! End of the line! Train only runs in one direction,"
Jack has had enough of Limbo. It's weird, no one is acting like themselves, and he has no fucking clue who Mexican Dream and Mamacita are.
The time for diplomacy and general social etiquette has come to an end. It's time for Jack to express some rage.
"Fuck you, Tommy Innit!" Jack yells, "You don't know shit! Oh, the train runs in one direction? Guess it's good I'm not a fucking train then!"
Jack grabs Tommy by the arm, and throws him unceremoniously onto the tracks. Wilbur and Schlatt finally stop shoving each other, but make no move to intervene in the new fight happening in front of them.
"Ow! What the fuck, Jack!"
"The fuck is that nothing was your fault!"
"I– Thank you?"
"Shut up!" Jack jumps down onto the tracks next to Tommy, grabs him by the wrist, and marches towards the tunnel he entered from, dragging the teen behind him, "Y’know, your death was supposed to make things better. That was the whole fucking point of luring you out to that middle of nowhere nuclear test site–"
"You– What? You knew Niki was–"
"Who the fuck do you think timed the strike to be exactly when you were there? Of course I knew, I helped plan the damn thing!"
Tommy began struggling in earnest now, digging his heels against the wooden boards of the track, pulling as hard as he could against Jack's grip around his wrist.
"Jack, stop! Why– You killed me! You know it's better with me dead!"
Jack clamps down on Tommys wrist as hard as he could. No bruises on the dead. He picked up the pace, at the very end of the platform.
"No, it's really fucking not!"
And then they were in the tunnel.
"I don't get it,"
"Okay, let me explain it in a way your pea brain can understand," Jack sighs, "Sometimes, people are wrong. And when those people don't have an ego the size of the moon and an urge to cause problems wherever they go, those people are able to admit they're wrong,"
"I don't cause problems on purpose, fuck off,"
"You absolutely do, don't lie to me,"
The echoing of two sets of footsteps against the tracks are the only audible noise for a moment.
"…Not always," Tommy eventually mutters, "Still fuck off. At least I've never planned an assassination before!"
"At least I've never failed an assassination before!"
Tommy scoffs at that, waving his free arm, the one not being death gripped by Jack, in a loose, confused circle in the air.
"…How would I have failed an assassination if I've never planned one?"
"Oh, fucks sake, Tommy! Not everything's about you! Let me take my victories where I can get them!"
Tommy laughs, and it's a full, genuine belly laugh. Complete with that stupid 'pahaha' noise he makes when he finds something exceedingly hysterical. Jack would never admit it out loud, much less to Tommy's face, but it's kind of nice to hear him laugh like that. Like maybe Jack didn't completely fuck him up with that stupid murder plot.
Tommy gets himself back under control, sighing heavily with a wide grin across his face.
"Well, maybe if you had some actual victories, you wouldn't need to make them up,"
Nevermind. Tommy was the worst. Fuck him and his mental health.
"I will turn around and walk you right back to Limbo,"
"No, you won't," Tommy said, entirely too confident and correct for Jack's liking, "You want me alive way more than I do,"
Wait. No. Don't fuck Tommy's mental health. It's entirely too precarious to be fucked with at this moment in time.
"We gotta get you some fucking therapy, man,"
"I was in therapy," Tommy says, cheerfully, "Then you killed me with a nuke,"
"And I am sorry about that, but how long are you gonna keep bringing that up?"
"Probably at least until you drag me back to the Overworld," Tommy says, "Beyond that? Not sure. Haven't thought that far ahead yet,"
Jack lets out a bone deep sigh. This was going to be a long fucking walk.
"Train's coming," Jack says.
"Again? Could've sworn we just had one go by," Tommy says, stepping off the track onto the weird nothingness ground, holding Jack's hand to tether himself to the rails just enough to keep from sinking into the nothingness.
The train hits, passing through Jack like he's not even there, and ruffling Tommy's clothes with its jetstream. And just as fast as it arrives, it's gone, and Tommy steps back onto the tracks.
"How the fuck do you do that, man?"
"What, the train thing?"
"Yeah!" Tommy says, swinging their joined hands between them, "Seriously, it's like you're not even there!"
"Honestly, I think I might be permabanned," Jack shrugs, " I tried to fight the conductor. You know how it is,"
"No!" Tommy laughs, "No, I fucking don't, you lunatic! Forget Technoblade and his never dying, death just doesn't want to work on Jack Manifold, apparently! You fought it off and now the train is scared of you!"
"It's not that hard," Jack says, smiling despite himself. Of all things for Tommy to have given him credit for, honestly.
Still.
It felt nice to be seen.
"Not that hard," Tommy scoffs, "Ooh look at me, I'm Jack Manifold! Death is my bitch because I'm simply too powerful. Death asks if it can please take me away and I say 'No, thank you! No, thank you, Death! Maybe later, I'm busy right now!'"
"I honestly cannot tell if you're mocking or admiring me,"
"Good, then it's working,"
"What's working?"
"Mmm," Tommy nods, "Yes,"
"Fuck, you're annoying,"
"At first,"
"And then forever,"
"But then I grow on you,"
"What, after forever has passed?"
"Yeah, exactly!" Tommy grins, and Prime help him, Jack grins back.
"How'd you know how to get out of here, anyway?"
"Hm?" Jack hums, "Oh, I've done this before,"
"What?!"
"Yeah. I died, and then I didn't want to be dead, so I just… left. I don't think anyone else was here, then. Or maybe I just didn't see them. But yeah I just saw which way the train came, and walked along the tracks back to the living world,"
There's silence for a few moments, which in the presence of Tommy Innit, usually means something is terribly, horribly wrong. Jack risks a glance over and sees Tommy gaping at him in shock.
"…What?"
"You just casually sauntered out of the afterlife, and didn't bother telling anyone?!"
"Who would I tell?"
"Everyone, man!" Tommy smacks their joined hands between them, just hard enough to make Jack edge away, "If I found a secret way out of the afterlife all by myself I would literally never shut up about it,"
"And yet it would remain secret because no one would ever listen to or believe you," Jack laughs.
Tommy's excitement dies a lot at that, and Jack is honestly considering taking it back when Tommy finally speaks.
"Hah, yeah. That's true, I guess," Tommy shrugs.
Ah, fuck.
Jack's going to do it.
He's going to pry into the mind of Tommy with intent to help.
Oh, how far he has fallen.
"So, when I told you Niki killed me–"
"Oh, no. Are you actually going to make me talk about it?" Tommy wrinkles his nose, "Like, out loud? Feels cringe, to me. I think I should just bottle it up deep inside with all my other bad feelings until they explode uncontrollably late at night where no one can see and I can get all my crying out in private so no one else has to deal with me,"
Jack stumbles at that, only being saved from an embarrassing faceplant by Tommy quickly pulling him back up before he was too far gone, with a quick 'oops, there you go'.
"…Jesus Christ, Tommy,"
"Yeah, sorry. That was supposed to be a joke, but then I started being real and couldn't stop. Limbo made me a little too honest, methinks! Gonna work on that, don't worry,"
"Work on what, lying more? That's a terrible idea! The fucks wrong with you!"
"I don't know, but people keep failing to fix it!" Tommy laughs, and when he realizes he's the only one laughing, he clears his throat awkwardly, "For the record, that joke did numbers in Limbo. Tough crowd, this tunnel…"
"If I had the ability to contact Puffy from this plane of existence, I would be booking her out for the next three months solid just for sessions with you," Jack says, "You said everyone in Limbo was suicidal!"
"Not Mamacita and Mexican Dream!"
"But you?"
"I mean, not right now,"
"You're dead right now!"
"…Fair point," Tommy grimaces, "Look, I would think this would be relatable for you. You saw a fucked situation and thought 'This would be just so much better if Tommy Innit were dead!'"
"Yeah, and I was literally wrong!"
"Yeah, but like," Tommy tilts his head, "Were you, though? I mean how much worse could things–"
"Nuclear war,"
Tommy's eyes widen.
"…I'm sorry?"
"Dream is holding your revival hostage, saying he'll revive you if he's let out of prison. Sam doesn't want to give anyone the opportunity to free him, so he's locked the prison down. Tubbo is trying to nuke the prison. Literally the only thing stopping him from doing so is Ranboo, and who fucking knows how long that guy's spine is going to hold out for," Jack says, "Oh, and Technoblade is already gearing up for a breakout attempt because he owes Dream some kind of favour apparently, and given that Niki was down for it, I would guarantee Philza’s on board for it as well. And if Dream gets out and doesn't revive you, which he almost certainly won't since he's calling in a favour and doesn't owe anyone shit for it, Tubbo is going to lose the last remaining shred of restraint he has and nuke the entire SMP into a permanent wasteland. I'm talking down to bedrock as far as the eye can see. Real 2B2T shit,"
Jack can almost see the gears turning in Tommy's head, processing exactly how crucial his continued existence is, right before he tightens his grip on Jack's hand and takes off in a dead sprint towards the mortal realm.
Niki is sitting beside Jack's bed. She has been here for the last twenty hours, for every possible moment since she watched her friend's head explode. Since she caused her friend's head to explode.
Niki is no stranger to brutality and violence. She has seen wars. She has fought in them. When push comes to shove, she's as deadly as she needs to be to survive, and she doesn't regret necessity.
But killing Jack? That wasn't necessary.
Except it was.
Because otherwise everything was going to go to shit even more.
But Jack’s death was…
Niki decides she’s probably just concerned about how long it’s taking. Taking a life and condemning someone to permadeath are two very different things. She’s just worried he won’t come back. It was fine.
Oh, fuck. What if he didn’t come back?
Okay, this was– Niki needs to stop thinking about it. Because otherwise, she is going to cry, and then Jack would see her crying, because Jack was going to come back, and it was going to be soon, so she can't cry right now.
"Ah, shit," Niki sniffles, as she feels the traitorous burning in the back of her eyes. She tilts her head back, fighting the inevitable.
It's at this auspicious moment that Jack pops into existence in his bed.
"Oh my God, you're okay!" Niki breathes, giving in to the tears.
"Fuck, hold on, one second," Jack says, one arm out in front of him weirdly and– what.
"Jack," Niki says, "Where is your hand?!"
Jack's hand, mysteriously, does not appear to be attached to the rest of him. His arm is there, but it just sort of fades into nothing right where his wrist is.
"Hold on," Jack says again, bracing himself and pulling his hand from its weird nothingness, and suddenly, Niki realizes that he is not talking to her.
Jack's hand begins to form, and then another hand forms with it, and then an arm, a shoulder, torso, and with all the grace of a foal being birthed, Tommy Fucking Innit slides from non-existence to collapse elbow-first directly onto Jack's stomach.
"Oh, fuck you," Jack groans, "See if I drag you out of Limbo again, with a fucking thank you like that,"
Tommy sits up as quickly as possible, grabbing Jack by both shoulders and shaking him violently, similar to the way in which one might shake an infant, if one were a particularly reprehensible or violently stupid individual.
"JACK FUCKING MANIFOLD!!" he screams, at maximum Tommy Innit volume, before scrambling off the bed and racing out of the room, again screaming, "TUBBO!! TUBBOOO!!"
"Jesus Christ," Jack sits up gingerly, rubbing the part of his abdomen most directly affected by Tommy’s landing, "I have spent the last, and I am not remotely exaggerating here Niki, two weeks straight, literally holding Tommy’s hand. However sweaty you’re imagining it is, times it by ten. No, wait, a hundr– Niki? Are you crying?"
Niki grabbed Jack, pulling him in close and hugging him as tight as she possibly could.
"Don’t you ever make me do that again, Jack Manifold. Not ever,"
"Okay? That’s okay," Jack reached up, hugging Niki back, "I’m sorry. Really, you were just the first person I thought of–"
"I get it, and I know. But Jack, you took so much longer than you should have," Niki pulled back, "I was so scared you weren’t coming back,"
"Oh, Niki,"
"You’re my best friend, Jack. Don’t ask me to kill you again,"
"…I’m your best friend?"
"Oh," Niki faltered, "Well, we– We spend a lot more time together than I do with, well, anyone else, really, so I mean–"
"No, Niki, you're my best friend too!" Jack said quickly.
"Oh,"
"Yeah,"
"Well," Niki grinned, "Good,"
"Yeah!" Jack grinned, "Okay, where'd Tommy go. This is important, he needs to not die again and frankly I don't trust him to manage basic survival on his own,"
"Well, he ran outside screaming 'Tubbo' repeatedly, so–"
"TUBBO!" Tommy called again, jumping down from the top of the water highway into Snowchester, "TUBBO, WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU, I'M NOT DEAD!! DON'T VENGEANCE NUKE ANYTHING!!"
"Holy shi– oot. Holy shoot. Tommy?"
"Ugh, Ranboo," Tommy groans, "You're not Tubbo. Youre such a shit substitute for Tubbo,"
"I'm sorry?"
"You should be. Also I came back from the dead, that's not worth a proper 'holy shit' to you?"
"Nope, not happening. I caught it in time,"
"Fuck you. You're the worst fucking Tubbo substitute. Where the hell is Real Tubbo,"
"Oh, God. Right. Uhh, so don't freak out but–"
"He's going to nuke something isn't he,"
"Yeah," Ranboo winced, "Admittedly, it's only the prison, so not as bad as it could be, but…"
"Goddamnit, Ranboo. One job, don't let Tubbo vengeance nuke anything in my absence, and you fuck it up,"
"Sorry,"
"You should be," Tommy says, "Now I have to run all the way back to the prison and I was so much closer to it earlier,"
"Wait, why do you need to go to the prison?"
"…To stop Tubbo?" Tommy frowns, "Look, Ranboo, I know we joke but how bad is your memory, actually. Because this feels like a legitimate cause for concern at this point,"
"I'm not that bad, Tommy!" Ranboo says, both bewildered and a little hurt, "The nuclear launch station is on the docks, Tubbo is right there!"
Ranboo points down at the water, and sure enough, there's Tubbo, entirely visible if Tommy had walked another three steps forward. Or had not had an eight or nine foot tall half-enderman standing directly in front of him.
"Oh," Tommy says, "Nukes are remote controlled?"
"Yes? Do you not know how nukes work?"
"I figured they were like, Big TNT," Tommy shrugs, and jogs down towards Tubbo, leaving Ranboo to just sort of stew in that assumption, "Tubbo! TUBBO!"
"WHAT!" Tubbo snarls, turning to look at the source of his name and freezes, rage at the interruption turning to disbelief.
"Hi," Tommy grins nervously, "I'm not dead,"
Tubbo stares at Tommy for another second, and then bursts into tears.
"Where the fuck have you been?!" Tubbo sobs, leaning on the nuclear launch panel for support.
"Oh, okay, just going to scooch in here and–" Ranboo edges past Tommy, power walking over to Tubbo and gently steering him by the shoulders towards the house, "Yeah, there we go, away from the nuclear codes, alrighty. This feels like an inside conversation,"
Normally, Tommy would argue with Ranboo on principle. The principle being that it's Ranboo. But, admittedly, it is fucking freezing out here, and while Ranboo and Tubbo have their fancy layered outfits, Tommy is braving the elements in a t-shirt.
Inside conversation it is.
Okay, the inside conversation is worth it if for nothing else but seeing Ranboo awkwardly hunched to keep his horns from hitting the ceiling.
Fucking idiot.
Jesus, he's even got jewelry on his horns, some kinda gold ring on the… left one…
Tommy looks at Tubbo again, who has stopped sobbing uncontrollably and is now only slightly crying and taking deep, calming breaths. He looks at his left horn. There's another gold ring.
"Oh, you motherfuckers," Tommy says softly, and then louder, "You couldn't wait one goddamn month for me to stop being dead?! Who was it. Who best-manned Tubbo. I'll kill them,"
"Oh, it was really more of a picnic than a ceremony, so we didn't really have–"
"Fine! Who picnic-manned Tubbo! The specific title makes very little difference to my Killing Intent, Boob Boy,"
Tubbo bursts into uncontrollable giggles, rubbing at his eyes.
"Fuck, I missed you so much, Tommy,"
"Clingy," Tommy says, "And also I missed you more. Time dilation. I missed you thirty times as much as you missed me. It's basic math,"
"Tommy? Tommy!"
"IN HERE, JACK!"
Niki follows Jack through the door, and then there were five in their little party, huddled around the Underscore-Beloved table.
"How are you even alive, Tommy?"
"Well, you see, Jack Manifold here decided to let Niki Nihachu here explode his head with a fucking firework, and then went on a three or four week long Death Quest through Limbo to literally drag me back to life,"
"Holy shit," Tubbo breathes.
"Seconded," Ranboo adds.
"Right, but, and I say this at the risk of getting myself nuked, I am the one who killed him in the first place,"
"Jack, it was just shit luck. We can't keep blaming ourselves for the acci–"
"No, I mean it wasn't an accident at all. I knew Tommy would be there. I had him nuked on purpose," Jack says.
The silence is deafening.
"So you–"
"I helped," Niki cuts Tubbo off, "That's why I was in the blast radius. I knew I was going to die. I was the one making sure Tommy didn't read any of the warnings in chat or accidentally wander to a safe distance,"
Tubbo swallows.
"I see,"
"And then they brought me back!" Tommy says, doing jazz hands, "So really, all's well that ends well, right? Right, Tubbo?"
"How are you so calm about this?! They killed you! With one of my nukes! And made me think I was responsible!"
"I– Okay, that last one is kind of fucked up," Tommy shrugs.
"In fairness, I did tell you it wasn't your fault," Jack says.
"I thought you were being nice! I didn't think you literally meant it was a fucking murder plot!"
"That's… fair," Jack admits, "Oh, also. Therapy for Tommy. As much as possible. He started being honest on like, day three of our walk back and it is just… so scary. I'm scared for him and I actively decided to kill him,"
"Snitch!" Tommy kicks at Jack's chair, "I'm fine, mostly. It's not from the murder! It's just the, y'know. The other stuff. Limbo just drags it to the surface and everyone else there makes you feel like its normal,"
"Got it, therapy for Tommy, he's going to downplay everything," Tubbo nods.
"Oh, fuck you both,"
Jack and Tommy sit on the edge of the L'Manburg cliffs, staring down at the water below. Six weeks had passed since Tommy's revival, and life had been pretty good. Tommy was back in much-needed therapy sessions with Puffy, two a week. Jack and Niki had managed to not be vengeance nuked by Tubbo, who was instead pouring his time and effort into planning a vow renewal ceremony to give Tommy the opportunity to properly and officially best-man him.
Tommy picks up a rock, and throws it down towards the water. Jack and Tommy both lean forward to see its tiny splash.
"It's a long way down, huh," Tommy says.
"Mm,"
"Want some good news?"
"Sure,"
"I don't feel any desire at all to jump," Tommy grins, and flops backwards onto the grass, kicking his legs without a care in the world as they dangle over the cliff's edge.
"Hey, look at you!" Jack crows, leaning over to bestow a congratulatory smack upon Tommy's shoulder, "Progress,"
"You know, for a murderer, you're pretty bad at wanting me dead,"
"Well for a murder victim, you're pretty shit at staying dead,"
"Whose fault is that!" Tommy cackles with laughter, and then gasps, smacking Jack on the arm repeatedly, "Oh, fuck. Wait. Jack. Do you know what you've done?"
"What?"
"You've made Dream irrelevant!" Tommy bursts into a fresh round of laughter, "Who gives a shit about his fucking revive book! You can drag anyone you want out of Limbo! Dream is a worse version of you!"
Tommy… isn't wrong.
Jack lets himself laugh, and it feels fucking good.