Archive of Our Own ^beta

Silence.

Complete, overwhelming silence.

He can’t move. He feels… he feels bad.

Fear and panic barely spark to life before calm pulses through him, warm and soft and… and safe, he thinks.

There’s a touch, too… a hand. On his shoulder.

He- he can’t- no, no, no, no more, please-

He can’t move, and the calm presses more forcefully into him. It’s like he literally can’t panic, the calm too insistent, too strong. The hand doesn’t start to hurt, just stays there. On his shoulder.

It’s so strong that he feels awareness slip away, feels himself slip back into the darkness.

Tommy blinks. He can’t… he can’t see, the light is too bright, he can’t…

Someone is touching him. There’s… a hand. On his arm.

Before he can panic, warmth presses gently into him, easing away some of the pain. It… it feels…

A hand rests on his forehead, cool and gentle; a thumb teases at his eyelid, and he tries to open his eyes again, tries to- to look…

The lights are dimmer now. He blinks around, gaze focusing on… on…

“M… Mom?” Tommy whimpers. He can’t… he can’t hear himself. Why can’t he hear…?

She smiles, tremulous, rubbing his arm. She doesn’t say anything… why doesn’t she say anything…?

“Mom, what…” He still can’t hear his voice, why can’t he…

His mom takes her hands off his arm, and he wants it back, but- but-

“You’ll be okay,” she signs slowly, still with that trembling smile on her face. “You’re safe. Home. S-Y-N-D-I-C-A-T-E,” she adds, slowly fingerspelling the word.

Tears well up in his eyes. “Mommy, I don’ feel good.”

She wipes tears off her own face. “I know,” she signs. “You got hurt. You’re safe now.”

He’s dizzy… and hot… he feels bad. Bad, like… like… he doesn’t know what.

He tries to reach for her, but his mom catches his arm, putting it back down on the bed. “Stay still,” she signs. “You’re hurt. Stay still. Rest.”

“Oka-ay.” Tommy sniffles. “M’okay? G- gonna be okay?”

His mom looks away for a second. Tommy thinks that’s… that’s bad.

“Yes,” she says after a minute. “You’ll be okay.”

Tommy sniffles, nodding. Trying to believe- trying to trust. He just- he hurts, and he feels sick, and he’s hot and shaky and he can’t breathe-

“Rest,” she signs. “I’ll be here. Dad’s coming later.”

“’kay,” Tommy whimpers. “F… feel r’lly bad Mommy.”

“I know, baby.” She’s not even trying to wipe away the tears running down her face this time. “You have a F-E-V-E-R,” she spells out. Tommy tracks the movements carefully, he’s all… all fuzzy, and confused. “I-N-F-E-C-T-I-O-N. Niki gave you medicine. You’ll be okay,” she repeats.

“I c- can’ hear.”

“I know.” His mom pauses to squeeze his hand. “Hearing device is broken. Sorry. You need to heal. Then maybe you can get a new one.”

…maybe? But that’s… no, it can’t… can’t be right…

“B-but m’training…”

His mom looks away, gently squeezing his hand. When she looks at him again she’s smiling, but he doesn’t think…

“We’ll talk about it later,” she says. “You need to heal.”

~~~

Phil doesn’t know he’s supposed to bear seeing Tommy like this.

He’s never been this badly hurt. Hasn’t needed any medical support equipment since he was two months old and Niki finally released him from her care.

And there’s no mistaking that he needs it now.

He’s too weak to sit up by himself, or to eat. He’s still not breathing well, his heart struggling to work properly after the trauma caused by the open-heart biopsy, by the abysmal treatment of the incision and the damage to the bone. Niki’s been talking about needing to reopen his chest and properly repair his sternum, once he’s strong enough to withstand the surgery. Once the infection has cleared up a bit.

Tommy’s gradually growing stronger, but it’s going to take time- a long, long time- for him to heal. And even when his body heals, they still have to be concerned about the brain damage, about if it’ll heal well enough to allow Sam and Niki to insert new implants, or if Tommy will be completely deaf for the rest of his life.

And even then, there’s his mutation. The lack of. Tommy had been training to become a Syndicate member one day, to help them help people. He could be now- Tubbo started at only fourteen, after all- but Phil and Kristin had insisted he wait. Train more. Get stronger. Be fully prepared to face the danger that he would eventually face.

Perhaps they’re overprotective, but neither of them has ever been able to forget his rocky start in life. How tiny and fragile he was when he was born, how very weak.

And now.

Now, Tommy will probably never become part of the Syndicate. At least, not in the way he had planned; not in the way he wanted.

Phil hasn’t gone to the doctor’s cell. He doesn’t know what he would do if he confronted the bastard who tortured his son, hurt him, took away his future and his dreams and such an integral part of who he was.

Tommy looks so, so small in that hospital bed.

He’s pale, but with bright red spots on his cheeks. The top of his hospital gown is open, leaving the angry line of stitches and swollen, infected flesh on full display. He’s thin and trembling as his head turns weakly, restless from the fever. His breathing is labored- shallow, raspy.

“How- how is he?” Phil asks as Niki finishes checking the monitors and peers closer at the wound on his chest.

“He’s not doing too well,” Niki says quietly. “The fever’s up, and his breathing is getting a bit worse. I’ll keep monitoring, but I might need to intubate him soon. For now I’m going to switch him over to a full face mask instead of the cannula.”

Phil nods shakily, watching as she takes away the cannula and lifts Tommy’s head gently to slip the elastic of the oxygen mask behind his head. Tommy doesn’t stir- he doesn’t even blink. Just keeps breathing, slow and raspy and quiet.

“And his wounds?”

“I’m moving up the timetable for the surgery,” Niki says. “I’m really concerned about the look of the bone. We’ll probably be doing that within the next couple of days.”

Phil nods, trying to rub some warmth into Tommy’s thin fingers. “You can- you can do it safely?”

“Yes. We’re delaying any more healing sessions with Bad until after the surgery so he can save up his strength. We can make it safe.”

“Okay. Okay.” He gazes at Tommy’s face, vaguely pinched in pain. “And- and the rest?”

“The puncture site in his back is healing well. Tommy hasn’t been lucid in a bit, but he hasn’t had any numbness in his legs, which is a good sign. The bruising around the marrow extraction sites hasn’t cleared up, but it appears that so far, the infection hasn’t gotten into the bone. Which is good.”

Phil nods, gently running his hand up and down Tommy’s arm. He can feel his bones, he’s so thin. So wasted.

“He- is he doin’ better with- with nutrition?”

“Yes. I know it might not look it, but he’s regained a couple pounds.” Niki rests one hand on Tommy’s forehead, frowning slightly. “Things should start improving more quickly once the infection clears.”

“And- and the brain damage, how is that?”

“There hasn’t been any measurable improvement. I’m sorry, Phil.”

He shakes his head, gazing at Tommy’s face twitching as he whines. Ever so gently, Phil pulses a bit of calm into him, soothing his restlessness.

It hurts to think- his Tommy, his baby, has brain damage. It’s not severe, it won’t affect his reasoning- it doesn’t make Tommy any less Tommy- but it will severely impact his day-to-day life. He may never hear their voices again- and god, Phil knows how much that’s going to hurt him. How scared and upset Tommy will be.

Even more, by the loss of his mutation. The thing that made him one of them.

And- and Tommy still is one of them. Loved, cherished, just as much a part of their family and of the Syndicate as ever- but not in the way he wanted or planned.

Nothing is going to look the same as what any of them planned.

“It’s… I know there’s only so much you and Bad can do,” Phil says quietly. “I know that right now… the most we can expect is for you to keep him alive and get him on the way to physically healthy. Maybe that’s enough.”

“It’s not,” Niki says. “And I’m sorry that we can’t do more.”

“You’re doing your best.” Phil clasps Tommy’s hand closer, gently sending another pulse of calm and warmth into him. “Thank you for that. I- we can’t thank you enough.”

~~~

The silence is starting to feel… heavy.

Something taps on his shoulder, and Tommy forces his eyes open. Forces himself to look around until he sees Niki.

She smiles a little, rubbing his shoulder gently. Then she lifts her hands, signing, “Can you understand me?”

Tommy blinks, brain taking a few seconds to parse the movements. “Y… yes,” he gets out. His tongue feels slow. Everything feels slow.

Niki looks away, gesturing to someone else. After a second Mady, one of the nurses, comes and sits on the edge of the bed, taking Tommy’s hand.

Niki fingerspells a word, and Tommy just blinks for a few seconds, trying to- to work out what…

Niki spells the word again, slower- S-Q-U-E-E-Z-E. Tommy thinks he hums, squeezing Mady’s hand as tight as he can.

Mady nods. Niki smiles. “Good,” she says. “Follow this light.”

She holds up a tiny penlight. Tommy blinks a few times, following the light with his eyes without moving his head. After a few seconds Niki smiles again, giving him a thumbs-up as she makes a note on her tablet.

“Good. Mady is going to check if you can feel something, okay?”

“’kay.”

He feels something press against the bottom of his foot, and makes a face. Then the other one.

“Can you feel that?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Good, Tommy.” Niki smiles, gently squeezing his hand. “Feel okay?”

He feels sick. Everything hurts, and he’s… he’s tired. He feels heavy and- and slow.

“N… no. Feel… r’lly bad.”

Niki frowns a bit, looking away and saying something to Mady, mouth moving soundlessly. Tommy sniffles, wanting to reach over and tug on her shirt to get her attention back and tell him what’s happening, what’s wrong with him…

“Giving you medicine,” Niki says after a second, meeting his gaze. “Will help. You should sleep.”

“I wan’ my mom,” he thinks he whines.

“Your dad is coming,” Niki signs. “That’s okay?”

“Y- yeah.” Tommy sniffles again, tears starting to roll down his cheeks. “I’on’ feel good.”

“I know.” Niki pauses to squeeze his hand again. “You’ll get better. Promise.”

Tommy feels so bad.

Before he can try to move or anything, a hand squeezes his, pushing gentle calm through him. Tommy squeezes back- it’s his dad, his dad’s here.

He’s too sleepy to try to open his eyes, but he knows his dad is here. His dad’s hand leaves his- but just for a second, before he’s holding Tommy’s hand again. His other hand rests on Tommy’s forehead, thumb gently stroking back over his hair.

After a few minutes his dad lifts his hand, gently turning and guiding it so Tommy’s fingers rest against warm skin, bumpy and buzzing softly under his fingertips. Tommy sighs, pushing his head up a little more into his dad’s hand. He likes this… his mom and dad do it sometimes when he can’t hear them, put his hand on their throats so he can feel them humming.

It makes him feel better, every time. He can feel the love- even when it’s his mom, whose mutation doesn’t work like that- and stronger when it’s his dad, whose mutation does.

The doctor… he did something to… to Tommy’s mutation… right…?

No. No, no, he- he doesn’t want to think about that. It’s too much, it’s too hard, he just can’t.

His dad pushes another gentle wave of calm into him, easily soothing away the rest of Tommy’s anxiety. He squeezes his dad’s hand, tired and ready to just go back to sleep.

~~~

Tommy stays in the medbay for what they later tell him is several weeks.

He’s finally allowed to get up and shuffle around the room after three weeks, but Niki keeps telling him (signing to him, because he still can’t hear) that he needs to stay here. With the oxygen cannula or sometimes a mask because he’s having trouble breathing, and the NG tube because eating makes him sick, and Niki is starting to talk to his parents about a more permanent feeding tube because Tommy isn’t gaining weight like they want him to because he keeps throwing up.

He tries not to think about the doctor.

But Tommy knows- he knows that the doctor did more to him than they’re saying. That he- he changed something inside Tommy that can’t be fixed.

He can feel it. In the too-slow beating of his heart, in the way he’s not constantly hungry. How slow everything feels.

Then finally, his parents sit him down in his room in the medbay. Niki’s there, hovering just over their shoulders. Like- like it’s going to be bad.

And Tommy knows it’s bad. He knows because he’s always known, ever since he first woke up with the full consciousness of how slow his body is. He knows because his mom’s hands are shaking, wrapped around his dad’s arm; because his dad feels anxious and sad and a little bit scared.

“Tommy,” Phil says after a second, his hands also trembling, “we need… to talk… about what happens now.”

Tommy nods, gripping the bed rail. He wants to go home, back to his own room, but Niki’s been worried to let him out of the medbay when he’s still so weak.

“Niki says it’s time for… a new feeding tube.” He doesn’t meet Tommy’s gaze. “Permanent.”

Tommy nods again, silent. He doesn’t speak, because it wouldn’t matter. His whole world is silent.

“It’ll be better,” Niki says. “Won’t make you so sick.”

He nods, looking down for a few seconds. He doesn’t want this- he can’t be a part of the Syndicate if he’s connected to a feeding tube all the time.

He can’t be part of the Syndicate without his mutation, and he already knows that’s gone.

“After the surgery, you’ll go home,” Niki signs. “You’ll need the oxygen-” she taps her own face where the cannula would sit, and Tommy nods- “but you can go home.”

Phil lifts his head, meeting Tommy’s gaze again. “There’s more.”

Tommy nods. “I know,” he signs, his hands slow and a little clumsy.

For some reason, Kristin’s face crumples up. Tommy looks down for a second.

“Your brain- B-R-A-I-N- isn’t healing.” Phil pauses. “Hearing device… won’t work.”

Tommy just nods again. He knew that, he thinks… he was starting to expect it, anyways. Because if they hadn’t gotten the implants back in by now, then…

“I’m sorry,” Phil signs, tears running down his face. “Sorry.”

“We did what we could,” Niki says. “I’m sorry it wasn’t enough.”

“It’s okay,” Tommy signs. “It’s okay.”

Kristin shakes her head, still just clinging to Phil’s arm. “Sorry,” she signs, her hand shaking. She’s crying, too. “Sorry. Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Mom,” Tommy says. “I understand. It’s okay.”

After a minute, Phil starts signing again. “There’s more. Your M-U-T-A-T-I-O-N, it’s-”

“Gone,” Tommy signs, when his dad doesn’t finish. “I know.”

“Sorry,” his dad signs- and then his mom. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”

He just shakes his head a little. “I know,” he says. “The doctor said. I know.”

They both move suddenly to hug him, and Tommy just lets them. Just leans his head on his mom’s shoulder and doesn’t cry.

They’re both crying, and Tommy’s not. He’s cried about all of it a lot for the last couple of weeks.

He’s just numb to all of it now. Just resigned.

~~~

Tommy comes home and immediately holes up in his room.

Kristin doesn’t know what to do with this.

It’s been weeks now. Weeks since he was rescued and brought home. He’s still so thin, not gaining weight properly.

The new GJ tube should help, Niki says- bypassing his stomach directly for the majority of his nutrition to keep him from vomiting everything up, and creating a system to make it easier for him to tolerate regular eating, so he can supplement a bit. Maybe- hopefully- god, she hopes, get him back to normal.

They don’t know- neither of them knows, hasn’t been able to get answers out of him- about how he feels about all this. Phil says all he can feel from Tommy is a kind of numbness, or dull resignation sometimes.

He’s been so quiet.

Kristin hasn’t heard her son’s voice in weeks, and it just breaks her goddamn heart.

They’ve fallen into a new routine.

Tommy’s oxygen concentrator needs to be plugged in every six hours to recharge, tethering him to the length of the cord while it does. His feeding tube runs for two hours at a time, four times a day, giving him an hour or two between feeds. He sits at the dining room table and stares at his plate of food and eats one bite, sometimes two, at every meal.

He’s silent. He doesn’t speak, rarely signs unless they ask him directly or he has a problem. He sits in his room staring out the window, or on the couch staring at whatever is on the TV.

Something has to break.

And break it does, along with the storm clouds over the base.

Kristin stares through the window at the rain pattering down, and already she just knows.

Tommy’s sitting at his own window when she comes in, oxygen and cannula abandoned beside his bed. Kristin makes her footsteps heavier, to try to let him know she’s here-

And she comes around enough to see his face and he’s crying, tears running soundlessly down his face.

Kristin takes a shaky breath, closing her eyes for a moment.

She pulls the oxygen over, touching Tommy’s shoulder and waiting for a response that doesn’t come. She slips the cannula back into place, and still, nothing.

His breathing eases almost instantly. Kristin wraps her arms around Tommy as he starts crying harder, little gasping whimpers coming out with each sob.

“Sorry,” he signs. “Sorry. I tried. Thought I could. Sorry.”

She wipes away his tears, moving to crouch in front of him and tapping his face till he looks at her.

“Did you take your oxygen off to try to go in the rain?” she asks, soft and heartbroken.

Tommy nods, crumpling forwards with fresh sobs, loud and agonized.

She doesn’t know how to tell him it’s okay. She doesn’t know how to reassure him this time, after they’ve lost something that means so much to both of them.

Kristin just holds him, rubbing his back in gentle circles. She holds him for a long time, trying to think of a way to make this right.

There’s no way to get their rainy days back. Not now. Not with Tommy needing to constantly be connected to his oxygen concentrator, not with how terribly he struggles for air without it. Not with how weak and shaky he is, still.

Her phone alarm goes off for Tommy’s morning feed while she’s still sitting there, holding him. Kristin hates to let go, but she pulls back, cupping his face and gently wiping his tears away.

“It’s time for your feed,” she signs, pausing to cup his face again and kiss his forehead. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

Tommy nods, slumping back in his chair, looking utterly defeated and worn-out.

Phil’s in the kitchen, getting Tommy’s feed together. “How is he?” he asks, tense.

“Pretty bad. He wasn’t on his oxygen when I went in there, he was trying to see if… if he could tolerate it.” Kristin exhales, the breath rattling out of her. “I don’t know what to do, Phil. It feels like we’re losing him.”

He leans heavily on the counter, not looking at her. “I think we did lose him,” he says quietly. “He’s so quiet. We- we lost our happy boy and I don’t know if we can get him back. There was just… too much.”

She wants to say no, that it can’t be true and she won’t believe it, but…

But, everything.

The silence. The stillness. The withdrawn numbness and the compliance with everything they ask of him.

The doctor broke something in him. He took their child and hurt him and Tommy will never be the same again.

~~~

Tommy hardly knows how he ends up on the roof.

He’s not supposed to know how to get up here at all. Nobody is.

He’s out of breath after climbing the stairs, without the oxygen concentrator he left in his room. Struggling to pull in lungfuls of air, whole body rebelling against life. He slumps against the door for a minute, eyes closed, just trying to get his breath back.

It’s quieter up here. Dark. It’s late, the sun long set.

Tommy staggers across to the edge, collapsing against the parapet.

Stares at the ground below, tears streaming down his face.

He’s not going to fall.

…but it would be so much easier.

Tommy waits a few more minutes, forcing air into his lungs, forcing it out again. His heart pounds in his chest, still too slow- just labored, strained.

Finally he accepts that he’s not going to be able to breathe, and drags himself up to sit on the parapet, feet dangling over the ground. A fall from this height probably wouldn’t even kill him, unless he landed on his head-

His skin crawls, like he’s being watched, and Tommy looks over his shoulder. Red eyes stare at him from the deep shadows around the roof access shed.

Tommy sighs, turning away again. After a few seconds a strong hand lands on his shoulder, and he glances up at Techno.

Techno squeezes his shoulder, gently pulling him back off the parapet. Tommy doesn’t have the strength to resist him- until Techno starts to lead him towards the stairs again. Then Tommy struggles weakly, unable to pull away, not accomplishing anything but wearing himself out.

Techno helps him sit down gently, holding up both hands, palms down, like he’s trying to tell Tommy to stay put. Then he steps into the darkness again and vanishes.

After a few seconds, he’s back. With Dream.

Tommy looks away, but Dream crouches in front of him, cupping his face gently. “Kid,” he signs. “What are you doing?”

Tommy looks away again. Dream gently rubs his arm; Techno sits down behind him, lifting Tommy into his lap and rubbing his chest.

“Your parents are worried,” Dream signs. His hands are slow. Clumsy. “Left your-” He hesitates, indicates the place where Tommy’s oxygen cannula sits.

Tommy can’t really feel anything, even his dad’s emotions. Maybe distantly, like a memory of it.

“What’s wrong?”

Tommy glances towards the edge again. He’s so, so numb. So tired.

“Kid,” Dream signs, expression vaguely pained. “No.”

“Please,” Tommy signs, tiny and shaking. “Please.”

Dream shakes his head, sandy hair flopping into his face. Techno’s arms squeeze a bit harder for a second.

“Kid, you know we can’t.” Dream’s hands shake, too. “Tommy. No.”

“Please,” Tommy repeats. His arms feel like lead weights. “I’m so tired. Please.”

And Dream-

Hugs him.

Just grabs Tommy out of Techno’s arms, holding him tightly, chest moving in ragged, uneven breaths. He… is he crying?

But Dream- he doesn’t care about anybody like that, except his sister. He doesn’t- he doesn’t- hug people.

“Sorry,” Dream says when he pulls back. “So sorry. We love you. All love you.”

Techno rubs Tommy’s chest gently, rocking him back and forth. Dream has tears in his eyes. Dream doesn’t cry. Tommy’s never seen him cry.

Techno’s chest vibrates against him. Dream nods, swiping at his face.

“T-E-C-H-N-O says he understands,” Dream signs. “We know it’s hard. Everything changed. But you-” He pauses, reaching out to place one hand over Tommy’s heart for a few seconds. “You. Are. Loved,” Dream signs slowly. “We love you. I. love you. T-E-C-H-N-O loves you. We all love you. All,” he repeats, signing it bigger.

Tommy’s eyes burn with impending tears. “I’m not me anymore,” he says.

Techno squeezes him again, chest vibrating as he says something else.

“We know,” Dream says, expression softening, sorrowful. “Me, him. We understand. We were changed too. You know who saved us?”

Tommy’s breath hitches painfully, lungs squeezing.

“Your dad. S-Y-N-D-I-C-A-T-E. They saved us. They helped.” Dream suddenly cups Tommy’s face again, tears still running down his own face. Just holds him for a few seconds before pulling back to slowly sign, “Let us save you.”

Tommy can’t keep the tears back any longer. Techno starts rocking him again, chest hitching every so often against Tommy’s back.

“You’re not the same,” Dream signs, slow and careful. “You never will be. But there is nothing wrong with that. You are still Tommy. You are still loved.”

He sobs, grief and pain breaking through him in waves. It hurts, it hurts so much, and Tommy clings to Techno’s arm and Dream’s hand and just cries.

And they just hold him. They don’t let go, they just hold him, warm and strong and steady.

When Tommy starts really struggling for air, Dream gently scoops him out of Techno’s arms, holding him while Techno vanishes into the darkness again. Reappears with Tommy’s oxygen concentrator, the cannula replaced with the face mask he usually only wears overnight.

Techno gently presses the plastic over Tommy’s face; Dream rubs his chest, silently encouraging him to try to take deep, steady breaths.

After a few minutes, when Tommy’s breathing more easily, they switch again so Tommy is sitting in Techno’s lap again, so Dream can talk to him. Techno keeps the mask held in place, even though he doesn’t need to.

“You gonna… tell my parents?” Tommy’s hands barely move. He’s so tired.

Dream hesitates, gaze flicking up over Tommy’s shoulder. After a second he meets his gaze again.

“We should.”

Tommy shakes his head weakly. “Don’t want… them to worry.”

Dream looks at Techno again. “Okay,” he says at last. “But you have to promise not to do this again.”

Tommy nods. “Promise,” he says, hand falling heavily back to his lap.

“Okay.” Dream says something to Techno, then lightly taps Tommy’s knee. “We’ll take you to N-I-K-I now,” he says. “Trust us.”

Tommy can only nod; he can only relax in Techno’s arms as the man stands up, walking steadily and smoothly to not jostle him.

His parents are waiting near the medbay. Phil hurries to him, visibly saying something to one of the others; Tommy thinks Dream answers him, because it doesn’t feel like Techno does.

Tommy just closes his eyes and goes to sleep.

His mom is there when he wakes up.

“Tommy, baby.” She looks like she’s been crying, moving to sit on the bed beside him. “We were so worried. So worried.”

“Sorry mom.” Tears roll down his cheeks again. “Sorry.”

Kristin leans down, kissing his forehead softly. “Baby. We love you. We just love you. Please talk to us. Please let us help. Let us help.”

Tommy doesn’t look at her. “I’m not me anymore,” he signs slowly, clumsily. “I’m broken.”

She tilts his face back up so he has to look at her. “You are not broken. Not. Broken.”

“Yes. I’m not me anymore.” He stares at his hands, thinking about how gently Techno and Dream had held him. “But it’s okay.”

He thinks he understands now.

Dream isn’t the person he was before he and his sister got kidnapped- he’s not even the person he was when he joined the Syndicate. Techno and Wilbur aren’t the people they were before they got kidnapped and experimented on.

And all of them are- are loved. Wilbur and Aravis, even though they can’t contribute anything to the Syndicate- they’re wanted here. They’re important.

Tommy has the morbidly amusing thought that maybe the three of them can start a club. The useless Syndicate members!

“I’m still family,” he says. “Even broken. Still loved.”

Kristin swipes away tears, nodding. “You’re still loved,” she says. “Promise. Promise. Promise.”

Tommy holds out his arms for a hug, and she just holds him tightly, rubbing his back in soothing circles.

Safe in his mother’s arms, Tommy melts. He’s tired, he’s so tired, but he’s safe now. He’s safe. He’s okay.

Even though he can never get better, even though he’s always going to be broken for the rest of his life- Tommy is loved.

And maybe… maybe, that’s enough.