Chapter Text
“Hey,” Mumbo says, and a fond hand brushes gently through Sam’s leaves, and he lets out a small hiss and drags the blanket up over his head.
The sound is toothless, though - there’s no real threat to it. Mumbo knows that, obviously, because he doesn’t scramble back - his hands stay pressed between the curling vines. For once, he’s not even trying to detangle them - his hand is just there, a bright warm weight against Sam’s side -
A kindness, maybe. A reminder that he’s not done running, yet.
“You don’t have to get up,” Mumbo tells him, voice soft. “If you don’t want to. But there’s food, if you’re ready for it.”
And Sam -
He should get up. Get up, and face the three of them, and his own shame -
He doesn’t want to, though. It’s a petty, childish thing, but he doesn’t want to.
He buries himself a little deeper under the blanket, and Mumbo -
Laughs.
It’s - it doesn’t hurt, though, not like he expects it to. There’s nothing mean about it - just something soft, and fond, and not teasing at all.
“It’s okay,” he says. “We can have a late morning, if you want. No one’s going to mind.”
He doesn’t move, though, and it takes Sam a moment to realize -
To realize that it’s because his vines have shifted to twine around the other redstoner’s fingers. Not tightly - just enough that Mumbo would have to pull to extricate himself.
It’s a whole new source of mortification, even if the other player doesn’t seem to mind -
He isn’t expecting Mumbo to hold him, when he tries to unwind himself.
It’s not a hard grab - he just turns his wrist, catching the vines between his fingers as they try to pull away. Sam could tug them loose, if he tried - but there’s a moment of confusion, where he stills, and Mumbo senses weakness and strikes.
“I’ll stay,” he says, voice gentle. “If you want.”
Sam doesn’t want - he shouldn’t -
But something in his posture betrays him, obviously, because the next thing he knows, Mumbo is petting his vines again, and his body feels boneless.
They sit like that, quiet, for… a while. Sam loses track of how long. He might doze off - he isn’t sure; Mumbo doesn’t seem to mind, either way.
It’s… nice.
Eventually, though, it has to end. Mumbo breaks the stillness between them - shifting, just a hair, on the mattress, even though his touch doesn’t vanish.
“No one thinks less of you,” he offers. “You know that, right?”
They’ve seen him melt down - seen the mess of overwhelmed panic that he’s always fighting to keep at bay. They’ve seen him weak, and - Mumbo is a bad liar, but at least it’s a kind lie.
Sam - doesn’t know what to say to that.
“Lots of us -” Mumbo starts, again, when he says nothing. “All of us, I mean - the hermits - have… things we’re running away from. It isn’t easy. But you - you’ve done so, so well.”
He - yes. He’s done a good job, running -
- running from the problems he helped build, the monster he helped create, the thing he failed to contain and which he has even now unleashed on a server helpless to defend itself -
He laughs into the blankets - or maybe it’s a sob.
Either way, Mumbo hums, softly.
“You made it this far,” he says. “I don’t - I’d never have lasted a week in the borderwilds, not with nothing but the clothes on my back and the gear in my inventory. Not without being able to set up a base, or go mining, or - void, you couldn’t even sleep, could you? Not those first couple weeks.”
Not with Dream so close behind him -
“And you survived Doc,” Mumbo adds, gently. “And Xisuma. You got away, and had the energy left to break into Bdubs’ house, and even when I caught up to you, you were still fighting.”
There wasn’t anything left to do but fight -
“And I think,” Mumbo tells him, like he’s coming up to some kind of thesis, like he has something to tell Sam about himself, “That that’s - you’re incredible, Sam. This?”
His fingers stroke the vines, curling into them to tug, lightly, and run between the leaves. “You aren’t weak,” he says like he knows. “No one - none of us think that. It’s just - it’s okay to need to rest, Sam. It’s okay if you’re not okay.”
It - it isn’t, is the thing. Nothing is ever going to be okay again, and he needs - he needs to adapt, to get past the grief and fear and dread swallowing up his chest, to push through the exhaustion -
He needs to get up.
He doesn’t know -
He doesn’t know what to say, so he shoves himself upright, and Mumbo’s hands are still there and all around him, helping him sag against the edge of the bed for a moment before he claws his way to his feet.
“Let’s -” he starts, and falters, but he’s strong enough, he has to be - “Let’s go eat breakfast.”
And Mumbo smiles, like the sun, and keeps a hand steady on his back as they stride out into the hall.
-----
The table they settle around is new.
It’s - wider, better-suited to the fact that there are now four players to be seated in Bdub’s kitchen. They’ve put in a chair for him, too, apparently - it’s padded, the wool not as cutting against what’s left of his fading bruises as wood might be.
He curls up in it, legs tucked under himself as they bustle around him. He - isn’t expecting it to be Ethos that drags a blanket over him, tucking it carefully around his shoulders as Sam tries to think of something to say.
Fortunately, Bdubs puts a plate of food in front of him before he has to say something, buys him a little time as they all sit around him, and the prickling feeling of being watched doesn’t abate, but he can at least pretend not to notice -
“The compass,” Mumbo says, and it’s such a non-sequitur that he forgets to eat, too. “That’s the problem, isn’t it?”
“What?” he manages, and his voice sounds awful, wet and rasping. He swallows, mouth too dry to do much good, and takes the bottle of water Bdubs pushes towards him gratefully. “What?”
“We were talking,” Bdubs says, by way of explanation. “I mean - you want to get off the server, right? Which - understandable, I guess, but you can’t do it safely until we do something about the compass, so Dream can’t just run you down.”
“That’s -” true, probably, but - “I’ll make it work,” he tells them. “I mean - I kept ahead of him for months. He won’t catch me - I’ve recovered a lot -”
“You kept ahead of him,” Ethos’ voice is quiet, “when he had just escaped a prison, and was weak from being tortured for months. I don’t think - Sam, he’s had time to heal, now, and you’re the one who’s injured. I don’t think it’s going to play out the same, this time.”
The words sit between them, blunt and unkind, as if Sam didn’t know that -
“I’ll make do,” he tells them. “Every day I’m still here puts you three in more danger. Puts your whole server in danger - there’s a reason that admin are territorial -”
“Xisuma’s strong,” Bdubs protests. “I mean - he’s strong. Dream’s not going to be able to put a scratch on him, if it comes to a fight.”
Mumbo, besides him, looks less certain.
“There’s - a lot of damage an admin can do,” he admits, finally. “Even off of their home server. But! That doesn’t matter - not if we can keep this from ever getting to that point -”
“We get the compass,” Ethos says. “If you want this to end without us talking to Xisuma, that’s - you stay here, safe, until we manage to break the compass, and then we can get you over the server border and on your way to Hypixel scott-free.”
The ultimatum is just as blunt as everything Ethos’ told him, this far, but -
“It’ll be dangerous,” Sam argues. “I mean - if you get caught -”
“If we get caught,” Mumbo says, “Xisuma will protect us. It doesn’t matter how he feels about Dream, he won’t let him hurt one of his players -”
“It’s - not completely safe,” Bdubs admits. “But if you don’t want us to go to Xisuma, this is probably our best option, Sam.”
“We’re all friends,” Ethos adds. “No one is going to think anything about us spending time at Xisuma’s build, or wherever Dream and Doc wind up. Or if we decide to hang around and help out with reconstruction. We’ll have plenty of chances to scout it out, pick the safest moment to strike -”
“And then we get you across the border and gone,” Bdubs says, clapping his hands together. “Ethos dragged out some of his old gear - he’s got a map that’ll get you right to Hypixel, and a couple thousand cred he’s never going to use. You can go, and start a new life somewhere, and -”
“And as long as Xisuma tells him I’m out of the server, Dream will follow me, anyways.” Sam - considers that. “Even without the compass. Or he’ll decide that it’s a lost cause, and head back to the SMP, and -”
And Quackity will just have to be strong enough to deal with that. Him, and Techno, and Philza, and Tommy and Tubbo and all the rest -
But he’s bought them time. Months, to get ready, and at some point, it has to be enough.
“That… could work,” he offers, finally. “But - you have to be careful. I don’t want -”
“Nothing’s going to happen to us,” Mumbo says. “I mean - I promise. Life’s not - it’s not like that, here. Xisuma’s not going to let anything happen to us that he can’t fix.”
“We’ll be careful, though,” Ethos tells him. “No one’s going to take any chances they don’t have to.”
And that’s -
He’s backed into a corner, isn’t he? But they’re offering him - more than he has any right to ask for. They’re not just comming their admin, again, and they’ve been so, so generous -
“Okay,” he says, hating the rasp of his voice. “That - could work.”
And it almost feels like the right answer, after all, when he’s met with two radiant smiles and a languid smirk of satisfaction.
-----
“Really,” Dream says, “I mean - thank you. For letting us stay here, Admin Xisuma -”
“Yeah,” Doc adds, as he drops his inventory on the bed. “Thanks, Xi.”
Xisuma snorts. “It’s the least I can do -” he starts, and Doc cuts him off.
“You didn’t do anything,” he tells the admin, before he can offer some kind of self-recrimination. “I mean it. You aren’t to blame for any of this, Xisuma - nobody except Sam is. Besides, it was just a castle. I’ll rebuild.”
They both know that it wasn’t just a castle, obviously. Doc’s palms ache with the memory of carving stone, with grief over the scope and scene of the destruction -
But Xisuma isn’t the only admin present to blame themselves, and it’s not the time to talk about that. He can tell from the flicker of Xisuma’s gaze that the other admin understands, even as he snorts a laugh.
“Of course,” he adds. “Still - it’s no trouble. You two are welcome for as long as you’d like to stay - maybe tomorrow we can see about getting some guest rooms carved out for you, too, so you have a little more privacy.”
“That’d be good,” Doc agrees. “But, for tonight -”
He gets a fond look from the admin.
“For tonight,” Xisuma says, “You should probably wash up. And eat something, at least, before you turn in -”
And - yeah. He’s covered in stone dust, and redstone, and little bits of clinging ash -
“Probably not a bad idea,” he agrees. “Here - Dream. I can show you where Xi’s bathroom is, if you want to go first -”
The younger admin rubs a hand across his cheek, looking at his grey-stained fingertips before nodding in agreement.
“I probably should,” he agrees. “Prime. I’m a mess.”
“We all are,” Xisuma says. “Doc - I’ll meet the two of you in the kitchen in a half-hour, or so? I’m just going to get changed out of my suit, for now -”
Doc nods agreement, and Xisuma trails out of the room as he turns to Dream.
“He doesn’t usually take proper showers,” he offers, at the younger admin’s curious glance. “Breathing gets - a little tricky, if he has to take the suit off, but he’ll have stayed clean inside it, at least. Meanwhile, you -”
He reaches out to tug on a lock of the admin’s brown hair - “Are looking gray, and I don’t want to think about what Mumbo’s going to say if I haven’t gotten this cleaned up by the time he comes over.”
“Of course.” The little flash of a smile that gets him is the first he’s seen from the other admin all day. Dream - hesitates, for a moment, but - “Do you think we could take the - um - scenic route? I mean - if Xisuma wouldn’t mind -”
“Get a look at his build?” Doc asks. “Sure - he’s not going to care. I bet he’d be happy to show you around the place, in the morning - it’s an incredible project -”
Not that there’s much to see, exactly - not from inside the volcano, anyways. Still, Doc plods along the maze of tunnels, pointing out some of the little architectural bits - the false-windows that lead into buried, subterranean gardens, the potted plants that break up the oppressive omnipresence of stone - until, at last, they’re in the broad, open chamber at the heart of the build.
He feels Dream drop behind him, stilling to a frozen stop as he takes in the scale of the build, and laughs, turning to see the admin’s white mask reflecting the molten orange of the lava pouring from above them.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” he asks. “This is why he’s got a baths, but no guest rooms, by the way. The whole place is run on steam from below - well, and a not-inconsequential amount of redstone, but -”
“He hollowed out an entire mountain?” Dream interjects, sounding vaguely like he’s choking, and Doc can’t help his grin at the misunderstanding.
“Oh, no,” he says, watching Dream relax, just a hair. “He built the mountain.”
And if he can’t keep himself from laughing at the wide-eyed look that Dream gives him, at that -
Well, Dream seems too astonished to mind, much, as they continue their descent into the volcano.
-----
They’re both clean, by the time they haul themselves out of the water and back into their gear.
Dream’s face - his whole body - are red, and Doc isn’t sure if it’s from the heat of the pools or his scrubbing. Maybe both - but the layer of ash is gone, and there’s something brighter in his eyes, so whatever it is must have helped, at least.
Doc - he feels better, too, honestly. The cooler water of the pool he’d chosen has perked him up, a little, and it’s good to be rid of the bits of grit tangled between his vines.
Not that it’s going to stop Mumbo, probably, the next time he sees the other redstoner, but - well, nothing ever is, for long.
It’s as he shakes himself dry that he realizes the problem.
“Oh,” he says, looking at Dream. “You didn’t - I don’t suppose you have anything clean to wear -”
Dream is already halfway into a clean pair of pants. “Um -”
“Or - oh.” Because, obviously, admin. “I don’t suppose you’d mind whipping me something up, too?”
He isn’t expecting the hesitance that flickers across Dream’s face.
“I -” he hesitates, again. “I don’t know. Xisuma -”
“He’s not going to mind,” Doc tells him, with the sort of certainty born from experience. But that’s a thin reassurance, he knows - “I can comm him and check, though, if you want.”
“Sure,” Dream says, with a relieved huff, and Doc smiles at him for a moment before turning his gaze down to his comms.
[DocM77] >whisper<: Hey Xi
[DocM77] >whisper<: I need pants
[DocM77] >whisper<: Do you mind if Dream admins me up a pair, or
It only takes a second for the response to flicker back.
[Xisumavoid] >whisper<: can he?
[Xisumavoid] >whisper<: i didnt think he’d have the power for that
[Xisumavoid] >whisper<: if its not going to strain him sure
[Xisumavoid] >whisper<: hed need your playerdata though
And that’s -
Doc glances sideways, at the other admin, for a moment. Dream is distracted, tugging a shirt over his head, and - it shouldn’t feel like a big deal, or an imposition, but -
[Xisumavoid] >whisper<: i can drop something off if youd rather not
[DocM77] >whisper<: Yeah
[DocM77] >whisper<: Thanks, Xi
“Xi’s going to drop something off for me,” he says, as Dream manages to get the shirt on, and the younger admin nods. “Not that he’d’ve minded, it’s just - no point in tiring yourself out.”
Dream nods acceptance, and Doc smiles back at him, and it feels like - it feels like everything’s going to work out.
-----
Dinner is a subdued affair. Even with the showers, and Xisuma changed into a clean suit, it’s easy to tell that the day is wearing on them.
Still, it’s not enough to kill all of the chatter at the table. There are still things to go over - projects being planned across the server, redstone to revise, meetings to plan -
“We’ll have one -” Xisuma starts, and Dream’s eyes shoot to him - “Tomorrow, I think. Later in the day, once everyone’s had a chance to get some rest - Cleo’s already been messaging me about it.”
“False had mentioned,” Doc tells him, and laughs. “I think they’re going to be out in the woods tonight. Might not even need the meeting.”
Dream looks - surprised, by that. “That’s -” He seems to hesitate, searching for the words.
“Dangerous, isn’t it?” he finally decides on, and Xisuma laughs.
“Only for Sam,” he says. “Cleo and False can take care of themselves. Besides - if he kills them, I’ll know where to find him. It’ll be the last thing he does on this server.”
There’s a surety to the way he says it that Dream doesn’t seem to find half as soothing as Doc does. He shifts, uneasily, but -
“I - really do appreciate it,” he says after another moment. “Not just - not just you helping me find him. It’s - been a long time, since I’ve been around people who don’t -”
He trails off, but Doc doesn’t miss the way his fingers curl around the scars on his arm, thumb rubbing across them as he stares down at the table. He reaches out, almost reflexively, and lays a hand on the younger admin’s shoulder -
“You deserve it,” he says, because it seems to be what Dream needs to hear. “You - shouldn’t have to deal with all of this alone. We’ll catch him, and you can go back to your server and get your life in order -”
Dream nods, at that, and his eyes flick up to Doc, gaze unreadable. Doc doesn’t miss the flicker of a smile on his lips, though, or what might be relief -
“Eat,” Xisuma interjects. “Both of you - then go get some rest. We’ve all had a long day.”
“Yeah,” Dream murmurs agreement, as Sam takes a pointedly large spoonful of his soup, and they finish the meal in an easy, companionable silence.
-----
They settle into their beds in that same quiet. Or - at least, it starts that way.
Doc - he’s not tired. There’s something physical to the exhaustion that’s overtaken him - his mind is sharp, wakeful, but his body has an all-over ache to it that isn’t quite pain.
Still, he’s halfway to sleep by the time he hears Dream shifting, restlessly, beside him.
“Can’t sleep?” he asks, and Dream goes painstakingly still.
“Sorry,” he says, after a moment. “I - yeah. I just -”
“Blew up, last time you went to bed?” Doc asks, and it’s enough to earn a little hoarse laugh from Dream.
“Yeah,” he says. “I guess you could say that.”
“Fair enough,” Doc tells him. “Try to relax, though. This is Xisuma’s base. Probably the safest place on the server, even if Sam was willing to go through all the trouble of getting over here -”
That gets a long, slow exhale from Dream.
“I know,” he says, finally. “I’m just - stressed, I guess. I mean - we’re safe, yeah, but there are so many other people on the server - anyone could stumble into him -”
“Xisuma’s got his comms on alert,” Doc assures him. “If anyone dies, he’ll know right away. And even if they don’t, everyone knows to message him right away if they find Sam.”
“Yeah,” Dream agrees, again, but it’s quiet. Subdued.
“Have you thought about - I don’t know. What you want to do when you get back to your server?” Doc asks, and that’s enough to make him sit up, propped up on his arm.
“We have the prison,” Dream tells him. “I mean - I’ll need to look through it, see if anything was damaged when I escaped, but - it’ll be easier to keep him there, with admin commands to maintain things.”
Which - sounds good, but -
“I meant for yourself,” Doc tells him. “I mean - you’ve been out in the wilds for a while. Have you had any ideas for - I don’t know. Builds? Farms? Maybe a new game or two? Something for yourself, when you get back.”
Dream is very, very still.
“I -” he starts, after a moment - “haven’t really thought about it, honestly.”
That thought shouldn’t feel as alien to Doc as it does, but - “Oh.”
“I’m not much of a builder,” Dream admits, after another breath. “I - play a lot of parkour, like I said. Or - I used to. Being an admin turned out to be - kind of a full-time job.”
He laughs, the sound bitter, and Doc shifts to look at him.
“Xi gets the same way, sometimes,” he tells the younger admin. “I mean - caught up in it. He used to work himself to the point of exhaustion - especially when we were getting ready to move the server.”
He doesn’t miss the flicker of interest in Dream’s eyes. “Oh?” he says, voice deliberately casual, and Doc grins as the bait is taken.
“It wasn’t healthy,” he says, like it’s a fact. “Not for him - not for any of us, really. He was isolating himself, cutting us off - he wasn’t even taking the time for his own builds, and he’s a fantastic designer. “
He doesn’t bother to grind the lesson home - Dream glances away, and Doc can tell he’s made his point.
“You’ll get back to your server,” he says. “Get everything back in order with your players, and then - I don’t know. Find some time for yourself somewhere, Dream. Don’t let this thing with Sam eat you alive.”
Dream’s throat works, and the “yeah.” is almost silent. “I just - I need this to be done.”
“We’ll find him,” Doc says, again, as if repetition can make Dream believe it. “Blowing up my base - that was a mistake. Everyone on the server is out for blood, now.”
That gets a little relieved grin from Dream. “He - I’m so sorry about your base, Doc -”
“It’s alright,” he says. “We’ll find him, and…”
And - maybe he should be more hesitant about this, but Dream’s eyes are glittering, green and hungry at him, in the dark -
“Maybe you deserve to get a couple of swings in,” Doc tells him, trying to press the hunger out of his voice. “Maybe I want a few, too. At least you’ll be able to get those in, before you have to drag him all the way back to your server.”
Dream is silent, for a moment.
“I didn’t think -” he starts, as if trying to figure out how to frame what he’s about to say - “I mean - if we kill him, he’ll still respawn -”
“Of course,” Doc tells him - but maybe to an admin who can’t give his players their lives back, over and over, it isn’t so obvious. “Don’t worry. Xisuma’s not going to mind the strain of an extra respawn or two, if it happens.”
And Doc is counting on that. Counting on Sam running, because he’s not quite so angry that he’d hurt a helpless captive, but until they’ve caught him -
Some of the ugliness in his chest must show on his face - but Dream doesn’t look scared. There’s an unflinching steadiness to his gaze - something cold and tired and starving - but it isn’t fear, anymore.
“We’ll find him,” Dream says, echoing the words like a promise. “And I’ll - I’ll take him home -”
“See?” Doc asks. “Everything’s going to be fine.”
“Yeah,” Dream agrees, and slumps back, finally, against the mattress. Doc mirrors the motion, but it’s not to sleep, not yet -
Not until the younger admin’s breathing has steadied, soft and even, and slowed, inch by inch, does Doc follow him down.