Chapter Text
It was a week after Tommy had gotten his tooth removed. It caused any progress to go back three steps. It felt as though Phil had hit a brick wall with Tommy, and after trying to make any sort of progress Phil gave up and started to shut himself into his office to deal with emails and phone calls.
Phil sat at his desk, his back sore and overextended form hunching over his desktop. The room was dim, only the pale blue screen lighting illuminating the room. Phil blinked tiredly, looking at his emails. Some of them were from his insurance, but a lot of them were from the news and podcasts trying to get interviews about Tommy. Fucking vultures the lot of them.
Phil didn’t want this out in the public, but somehow it got leaked. Techno had found an article, and while the article wasn’t in depth by any means, it gained a lot of traction. Of course people would be curious about his son living in isolation for thirteen fucking years by some psychopath, but that doesn’t mean they had a right to know. Tommy had a right to his privacy. Shit, Phil didn’t know if Tommy even understood the concept of privacy, and therefore he shouldn’t be something to be fucking gawked at.
After sending an albeit rude email to another news outlet not so politely telling them, he sat back and leaned in his chair. His joints hurt from typing, his eyes throbbed from eye strain, and his back felt like it needed to be run over with a steamroller. Phil rubbed his eyes, and glanced at the time. It was late, stupid late. Phil groaned and got up. He didn’t make dinner, he promised he was going to make dinner, but instead he got holed up in his office. He was a little surprised Techno and Wilbur didn’t get him, but then again he hasn’t really seen his two sons this whole fiasco started.
Techno and Wilbur were grown men now, busy with their own responsibilities. If they weren’t busy with their own studies, they were taking care of Tommy. He hated that he put that responsibility onto them, but it helped immensely. Phil took care of the exterior business, while his sons took care of the home, and he couldn’t be more grateful. Phil stood and stumbled into the kitchen. All the lights were off in the kitchen, and he flicked the lights on.
Phil almost damn near had a heart attack when he saw Tommy crouched in the dark, staring at Phil wide eyed. “Jesus Christ, mate. Did you forget to take your melatonin again?” He asked, but he never really respected a response. Phil stepped into the kitchen, and just stared at the carnage of the kitchen. Flour and eggs were everywhere. “Tommy.” Phil sighed angrily, pitching his nose.
He doesn’t know better. He's like a giant toddler.
Phil gently reminded himself. Phil could see that Tommy was
covered
in peanut butter, and he was hunched over the mostly empty jar.
Phil sighed. Well, at least he was getting his protein. Phil was worried Tommy wasn’t eating anymore. Whenever he left food in the room, it largely went uneaten. He couldn’t force or convince Tommy to eat, but the doctors advised him that if Tommy's hungry, he’ll eat. Phil gently watched over to Tommy, and grabbed him by his arm. He no longer grunted at Phil like an offended caveman whenever he moved him, so there's that at least. He got Tommy to sit at the dining room table, and he got a damp washcloth.
He cleaned Tommy's hands and face gently. Tommy's face was still a little tender from getting a tooth removed. “What am I going to do with you kiddo?” He murmured. Once Tommy was no longer sticky with peanut butter, he got Tommy some bread to eat. Tommy didn’t eat the bread, just watched him with uncanny wide eyes. “You’d make a fantastic horror movie antagonist.” Phil muttered. He grabbed a broom and a mop, and started to clean the kitchen. Tommy watched him sweep up the flour and eggs. Tommy watched him wipe down the counters with a damp paper towel. Phil glanced up and groaned. “Tommy how the fuck did you manage to get fucking peanutbutter on the ceiling? I’m a little impressed actually.”
Tommy said nothing. Of course he did. It took another half hour to finish the kitchen. Once Phil was done, he grabbed Tommy's hand again and Tommy followed obediently. Tommy thankfully understood the concept of following, so it made him easier to move around. The only thing that sucked, is that if Tommy didn’t want to follow, he simply wouldn’t. Everything was on Tommy's time, which was making this thing a whole lot harder.
He led Tommy to his office, and sat Tommy on the couch. Tommy briefly looked around to take in the room. Phil grabbed a throw blanket and wrapped it around Tommy. “Alright mate, I got some work to finish up. I really would rather you not wreck the kitchen again, so we’re just gonna hang out for a bit okay?” Tommy watched Phil like a security camera on a swivel. Blank and eerie. Phil sighed. Phil closed his office door, and got back to work.
Phil opened his email and saw another fucking email.
Dear Mr. Watson,
I am Connor Esile Pants, and I work with Prime Media. I hope this email finds your family well since the recent incident regarding Mr. Taken and your son. We want to reach out and get a first hand interview with you and your family. You would be compensated for your time.
Best wishes, Prime Media.
Phil rolled his eyes. This was the fifth one today. Phil was just about sick of their shit.
Dear Mr. Pants,
No.
Lukewarm regards, Phil Watson.
Phil sent off the email, and checked his phone notifications. He confirmed upcoming doctor visits via text. He startled slightly when he felt a presence next to Phil. Long thin fingers started to play with his hair. “Hey mate.” He said quietly. Phil looked up at Tommy. It was weird that his son was a bit taller than Phil was. Shit, he was on his way to be taller than Techno. Tommy looked at him, but instead of the medicine induced haze he usually had, they were scarily intelligent. His eyes were weary, but still terribly curious. Tommy was surprisingly gentle as he ran his thin knobby fingers through his hair. This would’ve been a weird and unusual interaction if it were literally any other situation.
But this was an entirely unique and unfamiliar situation, and if Tommy wanted to sit and play with Phil's hair, then so be it. A couple minutes had passed, and Tommy stared intently at Phil as if he were a puzzle. Maybe he was a puzzle to Tommy. It’s unclear if he was in complete isolation, or if Dream would interact with him, but whatever the case was Tommy didn’t get enough human interaction.
Tommy hummed in the back of his throat. “Mmm.” Phil looked a little surprised. “Mate? You okay?” Tommy looked frustrated. “M’t” He enunciated hard. Phil watched with amazement. “Mate? Are you trying to say mate?” Phil asked excitedly. Tommy didn’t answer, but Tommy kept going. He kept pronouncing it, testing out the values and working out the letters. After a few moments, Tommy finally managed to clumsily say “Mate.” He stretched the M too long, and it felt like he spat out the ate, but Phil could tell what he was saying.
Phil smiled. “Yeah mate, good job! Holy shit, you did it!” He said kindly. Tommy kept repeating the word, smiling too. Tommy's smile was a bit… clunky. A little too big, a little too much teeth, a bit too stretched. But fuck it, he did it.
Phil grabbed Tommy's hand again, and led him to the kitchen. Phil grabbed a cookie from a top shelf, and handed it to Tommy. “Good job mate.” Tommy grunted, but it had an upward tilt so Phil assumed it was a happy sound. Tommy scarfed down the cookie. “Mate” Tommy said again, looking expectant. Phil laughed at him. “No you don’t you little fucker. A cookie per word.” Phil could see the gears turning in his head, and Tommy glared at Phil when he realized he wasn’t getting a cookie. Phil waited patiently for Tommy to figure it out. “Fff-” Tommy started. “Fff-ck-r.” Phil laughed, and he laughed hard. Of course the second word Tommy picks up is a cuss word. “Fff-ck-r.” Tommy growled, and Phil handed him another cookie.
“Atta boy. You’re Watson at heart, aren't you? Tenacious little shit.” Tommy huffed and scarfed down another cookie. Tommy finished his cookie. Phil watched Tommy, and he could see that something was established in his head. Tommy was making connections, even though he went through several years of abuse. He was getting
concepts.
It felt like second nature to Phil for getting rewards for doing something, but Tommy had just then gotten the concept in front of his very eyes.
Tommy grabbed Phil by the arm, pulling him from his thoughts. Tommy was dragging him upstairs. Tommy kept looking back at him to make sure that he was following. Phil should probably get back to work, but fuck it. This was the first time Tommy was interacting with him since he got his tooth pulled.
Tommy led Phil to his room, and stared at Phil like a bug. Phil was a little lost. “Um, what's up mate?” Tommy stared at Phil for a moment longer, before turning to the window and back at Phil. Phil walked over to the window. “Um, it's a window. What about it?” Phil looked back at tommy. Tommy stared at him unblinking, looking at Phil like he was stupid. Tommy looked back at the window with a frustrated scowl on his face. Tommy pulled on his arm, hard. “Fff-ck-r” Tommy glared. Phil felt bad. “Tommy, I don't know what you’re wanting. Do you want to go outside?”
Tommy grunted angrily, and grabbed his blanket from his bed. He held up to the window, staring at Phil.
Oh. Oh!
Phil felt fucking stupid. Tommy wanted his blackout curtains back. His doctor had said to take it down, but this was the first time since Tommy came home that he’s even indicated that he wanted something. Phil sighed in defeat. Aside from wrecking the kitchen, Tommy was making remarkable progress.
Phil left for the linen closet and grabbed his curtain. Tommy watched intently as Phil hung up his curtain again. “There we go kiddo, how's that look?” Tommy stared at the curtain and turned towards his bed. Tommy crouched underneath the bed, and pulled out Phil's plushie crow. He handed it to Phil. Was… Tommy rewarding him? For putting up the curtain?
Tommy didn’t leave much time to think though, because Tommy grabbed Phil by the arm. He pushed him outside the door, and closed the door behind him. Phil looked down at the plushie crow and huffed amused. Tommy may not be able to speak, but he sure knew how to speak his mind. What a little shit.
—
Phil hummed tiredly, his eyes burning. He yawned into his fist as he flipped a pancake. Phil looked at the time above the door. His sons should be awake soon. He rarely had the energy to cook anymore, but he didn’t end up sleeping last night. He’d make them breakfast, run some errands in town, and then take a long well deserved nap.
He set out the tea for Techno, and the coffee for Wilbur. He smiled softly. Things were finally starting to feel normal. His sons came down shortly after, surprised to see their dad up and awake. “Christ dad, did you get any sleep last night?” Wilbur asked, sitting at the table. Phil made a so-so gesture. “Eh. It’s not that bad though. Tommy managed to speak last night.”
Wilbur raised his eyebrow. “Really? I thought he’d speak caveman forever-” Wilbur whined as Techno kicked him underneath the table. Hey!” Wilbur groaned at Techno, but both Techno and Phil ignored him. “What’d he say?” Techno asked curiously, drinking his tea. “Mate, and fucker.” Phil snorted. “He also managed to get me to put up his black out curtain. I think we’re really getting somewhere with him.” Wilbur got a look on his face, a face Phil was familiar with. “Wilbur,” Phil groaned exasperated. “Don't you dare.”
Wilbur leaned back in his chair. “I’m gonna teach him so many curse words.” Wilbur vowed. “Wilbur, if you teach him any more curse words, I'm stringing you up by your feet and using you as truck nuts. Do not. It’s bad enough he learned fucker by accident.”
Wilbur smiled innocently. “Any curse word he learns is an intentional accident Phil, don't you worry.” Phil rubbed his face tiredly. “Eat your pancakes Wil.”
Techno ate his food. “Is Tommy still on his hunger strike?” Techno asked curiously. “No, I dont think so. He wrecked the kitchen last night, and I found him covered in peanut butter. It took me like an hour to clean up.” Wilbur made a half thoughtful, half insulted face. “He was the one fucking eating my wasabi peas. I’ve been out for like a week.” Techno drank his tea. “Yep, blame Tommy. Wasn’t me. Nope.” Wilbur glared at him. “You mother fucker-” Wilbur gasped in offence.
“Okay, alright, enough of those boys.” Phil said, finishing his food. “Get ready for university, I’ll drop you guys off. I need to stop by the police station and try to get back Tommy's toys. I think they’d really help him settle in.”
“Dad, is that a good idea to just leave Tommy alone?” Techno asked skeptically. “He’ll be alright. He’s figured out doors, but he hasn't figured out locks. I’ll make sure the doors and windows are locked up pretty good. He just went to bed like two hours ago, and I doubt he’ll be awake by the time I get back.”
Wilbur hummed anxiously. “Maybe I should stay home to babysit.” Phil shook his head. “Mate, you've already missed a lot of classes. I promise it’s fine. I’ll be gone for two hours max.” Both of his sons looked uncertain and weary, but Phil shooed them off to get ready. Tommy usually sleeps for like ten hours at a time, and his sleep schedules fucked anyways.
Phil finished up cleaning the table of their breakfast, and secured all of the windows and locks so Tommy couldn’t get out. Phil wasn’t extremely worried though. Tommy would be fine, Tommy usually sits in his room anyways under his bed. Tommy never really expressed interest in going outside. Techno and Wilbur loaded in, and they were off into town.
The ride into town was quiet, and soon Phil dropped them off. Phil made a couple of stops to get snacks for him and the boys, and finally made it to the L’manburg police station. He got of the car and walked up to the front desk. “Hey, Sam in?” The lady at the desk asked him to wait. Phil stood off to the side. Five minutes later, Sam came from the back in uniform. Sam smiled at Phil. “Hey Phil, what can I do for you?” Sam asked kindly, inviting him to the back.
Phil sat at the desk and smiled. “Hey mate, I was wondering if I could get some of Tommy's belongings from the basement.” Sam lost his smile into a tight grimace. “Look, I know they’re evidence,” Phil put his hands up placating, “But Tommy isn’t settling in as well as I'd like him to. I think it’d help a lot.” Sam sighed and played with the pen on his desk. “You’re putting me in a hard position Phil. We really need them so we can make sure we can put him away for a long time.”
Phil grimaced. “Look I know, but you guys have pictures, you guys have a whole ass desktop full of evidence. I don’t even want all of it, I just want
something
that’ll help him settle. You owe me Sam.”
Sam looked slightly bewildered and a little more than insulted. “What?- I-” Phil put his hand up to stop him. “Do you know how many kids' bodies I had to identify that were under the age of five? A lot of them had black and brown hair, Sam. I had asked you to stop contacting me, but you still always insisted. Those are memories that I can never get out of my head. If you get me something of his, I’ll forgive you.”
This was ignoring the fact that Sam was the one who found Tommy, and Sam was the one who contacted Phil first. Phil knew he was being manipulative, but he also knew Sam had the backbone of a wacky inflatable tube man. Sam studied Phil for a long moment, multiple emotions flashing through his eyes. Something like anger, but mostly regret and shame. “Yeah, alright. Let me see what I can do.” he muttered. Score.
Sam quietly left the room, and came back moments later with a large clear tub with a crack on the side of it, filled with legos. A lot of them had bite marks etched into them, and there were a couple that were broken. “This is all I can do for you for now. I shouldn’t be giving this to you in the first place, but hopefully this is enough. This is one of the only objects found in his room.”
“Phil took the box from Sam, and smiled warmly at him. “You’re a good man Sam. See you when it’s time to put that bastard in prison?” Sam nodded, and then grimaced.
“Just so you know, they want the trial to be postponed. They want to get more evidence first, and apparently the suspect hasn’t been cooperating with giving a statement. He keeps trying to cut deals, it’s a whole thing.” Phil frowned. “When did they want to do the trial?” Sam exhaled. “They don’t know. Your lawyer is going to be contacting you soon though, for details about the case and what the next steps are.”
Phil's first reaction was agitation. He wanted that fucker in prison. The next was worry. He didn’t want to drag this out for it to be a spectacle, for people to gawk and stare at his son. He wanted this to be a quiet matter, but the longer it stayed out there, the more people were going to dig for information. He was hoping it would be an open and shut case, but since when does anything go Phil's way?
“That's fucking shit.” Phil said after a couple of moments. Sam huffed in agreement. “Sure is. The law works in mysterious ways, even though it’s a no brainer Dream is a sick man. I’ll talk to you soon.” Sam waved goodbye, and Phil left the police station.
—
Phil glanced at the time. Okay, sweet. He was only gone for two and a half hours. Phil was ready for a long nap. Today just kept on going. Phil parked his car in the driveway, and unlocked his front door.
It took Phil a minute to process what he was looking at. The house looked like a tornado went through it. There was running water going down the steps, soaking into the carpet and hardwood flooring. Phil dropped the legos by the door, completely forgetting about them. Phil slowly walked through the house, the water soaking into his shoes. The kitchen was a fucking disaster. Chairs were tilted over. Smashed Jam was smeared into the carpet of the living room. Somewhat soggy and clumpy flour decorated the walls and counters.
Phil noticed one of the kitchen windows was smashed to bits, letting a draft in. What the fuck happened? Phil was utterly speechless and gobsmacked. He didn’t even know where to start. He should go check on Tommy, but Phil wasn’t sure if he was going to scream at him or not. Phil needed to go shut the water off, maybe contact his insurance. He would start in the kitchen? Yeah, he’d start in the kitchen. Phil rubbed his face in his hands, so angry he didn’t even know what to do with himself. He felt a hand touch his hair, and Phil whipped around on Tommy.
Tommy stared back at Phil, his body hunched in himself. Tommy withdrew his hand, and anxiously ran a hand through his own hair. Tommy at least had the decency to look ashamed and embarrassed. “Tommy-” Phil started and then stopped.
Tommy doesn't know any better
, Phil tried to remind himself. Phil couldn’t help but to feel utterly lost, and unfathomably angry. Phil stormed through the house and snatched a towel. He thrusted it into Tommy's hands. “Fucking figure it out. Fucking god damn it.” He snapped. Phil stomped up the stairs to shut the water off.
Somehow, the bathroom was even worse. Shampoos and soaps made the floor slippery. Deodorant was smeared into the mirror. The bathtub itself was overflowing with bubbles. Phil quickly shut it off. Phil sat on the toilet seat, head in his hands. Phil knew that logically, Tommy was seeing what things did. He knew realistically, He should’ve grown past this phase when he was a small child, but he never had the opportunity to learn, and he was learning with a fully grown body.
The emotional side of Phil wanted to scream at Tommy, to lock him in his room so he could deal with the fucking disaster of his house. He wanted to shake Tommy silly. How the fuck did he manage three toddlers way back in the day? Phil took another ten minutes, before going back down stairs. To Tommy's credit, he was trying. Trying being the key word. He looked frustrated as he smeared flour around the counter, not actually cleaning anything. His towel was absolutely saturated by water.
Tommy looked back at Phil, and started to cry. Big, fat tears rolled down his cheeks. He was frustrated and upset with himself. Phil also felt like crying. Phil sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. “Come on. C’mere Mate. It’s okay.” He said softly, tugging Tommy's arm and pulling him into his chest. He rocked Tommy back and forth. He would’ve wished his first hug with Tommy was more meaningful and a little less emotionally charged. He’d fantasized about their first hug, but it felt empty. Tommy wasn’t hugging back, but he rested his head against Phils shoulder. Phil grimaced as he felt snot, tears and spit on his collarbone.
“What are we gonna do with you?” Phil muttered quietly. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have left you alone.” Phil said into the air, looking up at the ceiling. Phil held Tommy, slowly rocking them, swaying side to side. As he held Tommy, Phil glanced around the kitchen and living room and took inventory of the house, seeing what was salvageable and what wasn’t.
A lot of it wasn't salvageable. The carpet probably need to be ripped up. He needs to get a new couch. God, he hoped his desktop survived the flooding. Any hope of sleep was out the window. Fuck, he didn’t even want to know the damage of Techno and Wilburs room. Phil scanned the living room, and noticed Kristens picture was broken in front of the fireplace. Her picture was wet and soggy, covered in firewood ash and flour.
Tommy whined anxiously as Phil pulled away. Phil at this moment didn’t particularly care that Tommy was seeking comfort from him. Phil didn’t particularly care if his son needed him. Phil numbly walked over to the picture and picked it up. The picture just about disintegrated in his fingers. Phil was angry at himself. He was angry at Tommy. He was angry that he was even in this position in the first place. Tommy hovered beside him, staring at Phil with wide uncertain eyes.
“Mate,” Tommy asked in a small hesitant voice. It didn’t have the questioning tilt one would have, but Phil knew he was trying to get his attention. “Fucking, don’t.” Phil said shortly. “Fucking- Just go. I can’t. Not now.” Phil said, sitting on the couch. How did the couch have fucking corn starch on it? Phil buried his face in his hands. He felt long knobby fingers running through his hair. Phil grabbed Tommy's wrist hard. “Fucking stop.” Phil stared at Tommy. Tommy stared back, wide eyed and terrified. Later, Phil will beat himself up. Later, he’ll feel like a monstrous piece of shit. Right now, he wished he never found Tommy. He wished he would’ve never come back home. He was about to make it Tommy's problem.
Phil shoved him, and Tommy landed in the soggy carpet mouth agape. “Fucking go to your room!” He bellowed, standing over Tommy.
Tommy made a terrified whine, a sound that immediately grounded Phil. It was a primal, scared wheeze that Phil never wished to hear again. Phil snapped out of his angry stupor. “Fuck, shit, Tommy wait-” But Tommy was stomping up the stairs and back into his room before Phil could say anything else. Phil stood in the carnage of his home, destroying Tommy's trust yet a-fucking-gain. Phil wasn’t prepared for this.
Phil sat on his dirty couch again. Luke warm water seeping into his socks. He was overwhelmed, exhausted, and beyond upset. He cried into his arms as water dripped down the steps. He didn’t hear from Tommy for the rest of the night, Phil fucked up. Again.
How the fuck does he come back from this?
How does he fucking fix this?
What does he do?
Phil, not for the first time, felt completely and utterly out his depth. What the fuck is he going to do?