End Of Days

45: Graveyard

A moment passed.

It went in a blur, and Tommy wasn't fully sure of what was going on. He kept his wits about him as best he could, trying to keep the fog from his mind as the weight of another death fell upon him. Techno's hold on him was tight, but he knew his brother would let go if he asked. He knew he didn't him to.

For now, as he knelt by George's body, Techno's arms were the only thing in the world left to hold onto.

Dream was screaming. Tommy had to go and tell him, he owed him that much. George was dead, and his body was a wreck, and someone had to tell his best friend. He pulled away from Techno, and his brother let him go with a concerned call of his name.

Tommy made it to his feet, and it was easier than he thought it would be. He looked behind him, and the shell of the car was still burning. It was a wonder anyone had survived at all. Numbness ricocheted through him, and he knew this feeling all too well.

He took a step, and then another. Dream caught sight of him.

He was being put on a stretcher, thick bandages wrapped around his abdomen, his arm held in a temporary splint, and he was pleading with his rescuers to let him go. Puffy was standing right by his side, a hand in his hair, murmuring reassurances, telling him it would be okay.

Dream caught sight of him, and for a moment he stilled. An oxygen mask was being placed over his face, and it fogged up as he choked out a desperate word. "Tommy?"

Tommy's face twisted before he could even open his mouth, and he blinked through tearfilled lashes. "I'm sorry." He whispered, shaking his head and biting his lip as hard as he could, doing his best to keep himself together as iron flooded his mouth. "Dream, I'm so sorry."

He watched as his friend was lifted and moved through the gates of Haven, and he listened as he stopped screaming. The sobs came soon after. Tommy had never heard Dream sound so broken. He closed his eyes, and it took everything he had to keep standing.

When he opened his eyes again, there were more people by George's body. Buckets of water were being tossed on the burning shell of the jeep. A car was coming to a stop by the dirt road that led to the Outpost, and his father and his friends were rushing out. It all happened in a blur. Tommy felt tears on his cheeks, and did what he could to keep standing.

"Tommy?" Phil asked, his voice laced with shock as he caught sight of the car and then his son. Relief and fear mixed on his face, and he stepped towards him hesitantly.

Tommy tried his very best to keep it together. Phil would be mad at him, of course. It was only fair. Tommy had run away in the middle of the night to the place that had been responsible for both the apocalypse and his brother's demise, and hadn't left so much as a note. He'd been gone for weeks. His father thought he had lost another son.

He couldn't expect comfort, not until they'd had a talk. Not until he had apologised, and things were back to normal. Or rather, things had found their way into a new normal, because Tommy knew that they would never be the same again.

"Tommy?" Phil asked again, and there was nothing but concern in his voice. He was closer now, and Tommy braced himself for the worst.

He took a breath to stell his resolve, but everything seemed to crumble around him. The first sob escaped, and he brought a hand up to tug at his hair as he shook his head and tried desperately to pull himself together. "I'm sorry." He choked out, unable to bring himself to move. "I–I'm–"

"Oh, mate." Phil whispered, and in an instant Tommy was pulled into his arms.

He melted into the embrace, his hands balling into the fabric of his father's jacket as he sobbed, burying his face in Phil's chest and willing the world to go away. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."