Chapter 15: A Beacon in the Dark
The days after Tubbo’s injury passed in a blur. L’Manberg had won the battle, but the war was far from over. The Syndicate had been pushed back, retreating into the wilderness to regroup, but everyone knew they’d be back, stronger and more ruthless. Yet, all of that seemed distant to Tommy, like it was happening in another world. His world had shrunk down to a small medic’s tent and the fragile life of the person inside.
Tubbo’s recovery was slow but steady. He remained in and out of consciousness for days, each time waking up a little stronger, a little more like himself. Tommy rarely left his side, sitting by the bed with Tubbo’s hand in his, even when Tubbo was asleep. The others had tried to convince Tommy to take breaks, but he refused. This was where he needed to be.
It was the middle of the night, a few days after Tubbo had first woken up. The camp outside the medic’s tent was quiet, the soldiers finally resting after days of tension. Inside, the only sound was the steady rhythm of Tubbo’s breathing. Tommy sat in his usual spot, his head resting on his arms beside Tubbo’s bed, eyes half-closed but too restless to sleep.
“Tommy?” Tubbo’s voice was soft, barely a whisper in the quiet of the tent.
Tommy’s head shot up, blinking the sleep from his eyes as he looked down at Tubbo. His eyes were open, clearer than they had been in days, and there was a faint smile on his lips.
“Hey,” Tommy said, his voice rough from exhaustion. “You’re awake.”
Tubbo gave a small nod, his eyes flicking toward the window where the faint glow of moonlight filtered in. “What time is it?”
“Middle of the night,” Tommy replied, rubbing at his face. “You’ve been out for a while.”
Tubbo’s brow furrowed slightly as he glanced down at himself, taking in the bandages that still wrapped around his torso. “How bad was it?”
Tommy hesitated, his stomach twisting at the memory. “Pretty bad,” he admitted quietly. “But you’re gonna be okay. The medics said you’re healing well.”
Tubbo didn’t respond right away, his eyes distant as if he were piecing together the fragments of what had happened. “I remember… seeing you. And then I—” He trailed off, his hand unconsciously moving toward the spot where the wound had been.
“You took a hit for me,” Tommy said, his voice tight. “You almost died, Tubbo.”
“I couldn’t let you…” Tubbo started, but his voice faltered. “I had to protect you.”
A lump formed in Tommy’s throat. The weight of everything—the battles, the fear, the unspoken emotions—crashed down on him all at once. He clenched his fists, his heart pounding as he fought to find the words.
“I didn’t need you to protect me,” Tommy said, his voice trembling with emotion. “I needed you to stay with me.”
Tubbo’s eyes softened, a sadness passing over his face. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t want to leave you, Tommy.”
“I thought I lost you,” Tommy whispered, his voice breaking as he finally let the tears he’d been holding back for days fall. “I thought I was gonna lose you, and I—” He choked on the words, his chest tight. “I can’t do this without you.”
Tubbo’s hand found Tommy’s, their fingers interlocking as if to anchor them both in the moment. “You won’t have to,” Tubbo said softly, his voice steady despite the pain in his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Tommy squeezed Tubbo’s hand tightly, as if he could keep him grounded, keep him safe just by holding on. “You promise?” he asked, his voice small.
“I promise,” Tubbo said, his voice firm but full of warmth. “We’re in this together, Tommy. Always.”
They sat there in silence for a long moment, the weight of the promise hanging between them like a fragile thread, one that had been tested but not broken. Tubbo’s grip on Tommy’s hand was weak, but it was enough. It was a reminder that even in the darkest moments, they still had each other.
After a while, Tubbo shifted, his face creasing in pain as he tried to sit up. Tommy moved quickly, gently helping him lean back against the pillows.
“Careful,” Tommy muttered, trying to sound stern despite the relief flooding through him. “You’re still recovering.”
Tubbo let out a weak chuckle, wincing as the movement tugged at his stitches. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be fine.”
Tommy sat back down, his heart still racing as he watched Tubbo settle against the pillows. “You better be.”
For a moment, there was silence, but it wasn’t the tense, heavy kind that had filled the air between them since the war had begun. This silence felt… peaceful. Like a calm after the storm.
“I’ve been thinking,” Tubbo said suddenly, his voice quieter now. “About everything. About what happens after this.”
Tommy frowned, his heart sinking. “After this? You mean after the war?”
Tubbo nodded slowly. “Yeah. I mean… what if we win? What if we actually make it through this? What happens then?”
Tommy hadn’t let himself think that far ahead. It had always felt like survival was the only goal, like the idea of a future beyond the war was too far out of reach. But hearing Tubbo talk about it now, hearing the hope in his voice, made something stir in Tommy’s chest.
“I don’t know,” Tommy admitted, his voice quiet. “But we’ll figure it out, won’t we?”
Tubbo smiled, the same faint, tired smile that had carried them through so many dark days. “Yeah. We will.”
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The next morning, as the first light of dawn crept into the tent, the camp outside began to stir. Soldiers moved quietly, tending to the wounded, preparing for the inevitable return of the Syndicate. The atmosphere was heavy with anticipation, but there was a sense of unity, of resilience.
Tommy stood outside the tent, staring at the horizon where the distant enemy lay. The war wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. But for the first time in what felt like forever, Tommy felt a flicker of hope.
Tubbo was alive. They had survived. And maybe, just maybe, they would make it through the rest of this war.
As long as they had each other, they could face anything.
Together.
