Father Figure

Present Day

Tommy was standing face to face with Dream, the owner of the Dream Smp where he, Wilbur, and all his friends lived. Tommy inhaled, turning so he was back to back with his enemy he had just recently fought.

Both looked over at Wilbur, who hesitantly raised his bow in the air. "Ten paces, fire, okay?" Tommy glanced at Dream before nodding. Wilbur sighed. "1." Tommy took a step, the reality of what was happening settling in.

Wilbur stared nervously at Tommy, the boy he had raised since he was young. The boy Wilbur... found in an alley. Wilbur swallowed. "2." Tommy took another step, looking over towards Fundy and Tubbo, who were staring back with worried expressions.

"3." It was anyone's game, anyone's shot. "4." Was Dream even moving? "5." Maybe everyone was lying to Tommy and Dream was already facing him, ready to shoot. "6." Maybe Sapnap or someone would shoot him before Dream could. "7."

Why was Tommy so paranoid? "8." His childhood. His first memories. Under a table. "9." And who? Who was he waiting for? Surely Wilbur, or Phil. Wasn't he hiding under their table? Maybe he was just angry.

"10 paces fire!"

Tommy whipped around, his bow raised as Wilbur's words swarmed through his head. "Do whatever your heart says." That's right, this would be easy. But before Tommy could do anything he felt a sting in his heart. He slowly looked down to see a red arrow sticking from his chest.

Tommy looked up to Dream staring at him, his mask blank. Wilbur had his hands to his mouth in shock. Fundy's ears flicked back. Tubbo had tears pricking his eyes.

Tommy smiled, his eyelids falling. He stumbled backwards. Wilbur gasped. "Tommy!" Then Tommy hit the blistering cold water, trying it's hardest to wake Tommy up. But Tommy was falling, sinking more or less.

Around him fish swam, examining his floating body. Tommy sunk farther down, wondering when he'd hit the bottom. If there was a bottom. This river was always very large. Wilbur warned Tommy and Tubbo about it when they were younger. Now he was sinking in it.

Blood was trailing above him in the water. It looked fancy. Tommy wanted to laugh, but he couldn't under water obviously. His clothes stared to sag, sinking him down quicker. And finally, Tommy hit the bottom, then he passed out.

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"Tommy, Tommy wake up!"

Tommy shot up from a soft bed. He was in his room, alone. A comforting smell floated to his nose. Cookies. Fresh ones. Tommy grimaced, his stomach hurting. He looked down to see a large bandage that wrapped all the way around his stomach.

Tommy sighed, looking back up. He slowly moved the bedsheets off of him. It took a minute or two until Tommy got the courage to try and stand. When he did he was wobbly, but he stabled himself quickly.

He licked his lips worridly. He looked up at the door. He wanted those cookies. If Tommy knew better, he would just stay in bed. But Tommy wasn't raised like that. He remembered his father, Phil, would always make brownies, but for some reason Tommy always loved cookies more.

Tommy slowly snuck to the door. He opened the door a crack and peeked out. No one was there. He opened the door fully, stepping out. His room was on the first floor, mostly because it took Tommy a little while to get a hang of the stairs when he was younger.

No one was in the living room, and by the sound of it, no one was even in the house. Tommy went to the smell of cookies in the kitchen. But when he got there, he realized there weren't any cookies.

In fact, the smell seemed to be coming from the backyard. It was dark outside, which Tommy didn't expect. Who what put fresh cookies on the back door in the middle of the night? And where was Phil, Wilbur, and Techno?

Tommy opened the back door, immediately spotting the culprit. A small cream box sat below the swing set. Tommy narrowed his eyes. Part of him wondered how he smelled them from his room, the other part wanted to taste his childhood. His childhood.

Tommy stepped outside, the cookie scent getting stronger. He picked his steps carefully, even though he didn't have to. He looked up and he was there. Standing right next to the swing set he used to play on as a kid. For some reason he prefered jumping on his bed insead. He always had wanted a trampoline.

Tommy crouched down, reaching for the box. His hoof finger touched it. Tommy jerked away. Why was it so cold? It wasn't cold outside. Tommy didn't feel cold. Tommy leaned forward, studying the box more now that he was closer.

The box was cream colored, Tommy had noticed that earlier. It was flushed with the scent of fresh baked chocolate cookies. Tommy's worries about this box were washed away and a sudden jolt of warm air was pushed his way. Tommy grabbed the sides of the box and went to slide it open, when,

"Tommy? Is that you?"

Tommy gasped in surprise, looking behind himself to see Phil holding grocery bags in the back doorway. Phil grinned. "Tommy! You're awake!" Tommy looked back down, but the box was gone, and he didn't feel warm anymore. In fact, he felt freezing.

Tommy jumped up, quickly turning around and running over to Phil, jumping into his arms for a hug. Phil laughed. "Tommy!" Tommy hugged his father, but it didn't feel right. He felt so cold. Tommy held on to the back of Phil's shirt.

What happened?

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Tommy likes cookies.