Chapter Text
Tommy rubs his eyes, checks the clock. It's getting late, but he knows the men aren't done. They can't be done yet.
"All... All four of you survived?"
Quackity rolls his shoulders, a smile stretching his lips and further highlighting the pale scar. Beside him, Sapnap is watching the screens again. There's a dolls head the team found in the debris field between the bow and stern but refused to save the co-ordinates of, the thing staring into the camera with devoid eyes.
"We were very lucky," He says quietly.
"We all recognise that we were a... statistical anomaly," Quackity adds, patting Sapnap's thigh, "Sorry for leading you on to believe Karl had died. He would have come today, but in recent years his health has been failing him and his memory is... not what it once was."
"So Ranboo is looking after him for now," Sapnap finishes, running a thumb over Quackity's fingers.
Jack is the one that breaks the silence, "So, Bea..?"
"Once we boarded the RMS Carpathia, we searched for her. All over," Sapnap smiles dejectedly, something Tommy would have expected more from their recount of tumultuous survival, "I like to think she went down with the stern, the implosion would have killed her instantly. It would have been the least painful."
"Wilbur died too. I hope it was long and agonising." Quackity declares with less discretion. Tommy looks down at his hands, but he doesn't know why. He knew Wilbur Soot died on the Titanic already. He did.
When he looks back up, Sapnap is watching him with a thoughtful crease in his brow.
"You, you're... Fundy's boy, aren't you?"
Tommy's mouth opens. Closes again. Looks at Jack, then sticks his middle finger up at him because he deserves it.
"How did you..?"
"I may have left my 'life of luxury'," Sapnap makes air quotes with his fingers and pulls a face which Quackity snickers at, "But Bad and Eryn didn't. I know the upper echelon, very vaguely. Plus, Sally really cared about Ranboo, in the end."
"I was told hero stories about Wilbur when I was younger," Tommy confesses, unable to look either man in the eye, "And of Techno, and Phil. I'm so sorry."
Quackity scoffs, but Sapnap lays a placating hand on his shoulder and he loosens incrementally, muttering something about "twelve of fourty" and "five pounds", but Tommy tries not to think too much about it. Eventually, he looks back at the young man, expression still tight.
He licks his lips, "I don't forgive them. We don't forgive them. We never will."
Tommy deflates, nodding. He'd usually be up in arms if anyone insulted his family, but these were people that had known them, had been negatively effected by knowing them, and there was cold, hard proof of it before his very eyes.
He feels terrible.
"But I don't need to forgive you."
Tommy's head snaps up at Quackity's words.
"I don't need to forgive you." His fingers twitch from where they lie on his walking stick, "Your family suffered enough in the sinking, any generational trauma isn't necessary at this point."
"You think I blame Sally for letting me jumping back into the ship?" Sapnap points out.
"But..."
"What's done is done," Quackity leans on Sapnap, who lays a comforting hand on the small of his back, "I don't like to think about what would have happened if they hadn't been there. I'm okay- I'm happy with this ending."
"Still doesn't make it right."
"No, it doesn't." Quackity scratches his chin, right where the scar ends, "But you don't need to feel bad. You don't need to apologise. They could have done that years ago."
"Okay," Tommy finally sighs, and a silence expands around the room again.
It's dark outside. Tommy can see how the waves have calmed down since Quackity and Sapnap's arrival, the boat rocking gently in the tide. Two miles below their feet is a ship those men watched go down, and yet they've travelled all this way to tell their story.
But they can't be done yet.
"That doesn't explain it all though, does it?" Tommy remarks, "I mean, the necklace, your na--"
"Not quite," Sapnap interrupts, then nods in acknowledgment, and looks eagerly at Quackity.
"It's not a story for now," He waves his hand nonchalantly, "Tomorrow maybe, before we leave. It's not all that interesting, and I'm tired."
Tommy knows it isn't too late, but he hadn't been thinking of the old men's energy levels. He bites his tongue in his wish to know more. These men are stubborn and protective of their information, he'll only waste his time trying to get more now.
"We can do that," Jack answers in his place, "Let me show you to your room."