Chapter Text
"Phil, I just, can’t do it." Tommy whined, burying his face deeper into a pillow. "I can’t fucking face Quackity, Phil. What’s he gonna think of me? He’s gonna kill me."
His dad sat beside him on the couch, absentmindedly smoothing down his wings as if that alone could settle everything that had happened the day before. Techno still hadn’t come out of his room, and Quackity was still completely in the dark.
"It’s gonna be… fine," Phil said, though it came out uncertain.
Philza wasn’t stupid. He was a father of three, and he knew what it meant to lose one of them. He and Quackity didn’t exactly have history that ended on good terms either, but he could still understand him in a way that didn’t need explaining. Dad to dad.
Another thing Phil had failed to realize until recently was that Quackity had apparently been an avian this entire time. They were never particularly involved in each other's business outside of the Butcher Army days, but Phil had always felt somewhat isolated without any avian peers outside of his family.
It was a shame things had never worked out between them.
He was pulled from his thoughts by another muffled groan coming from Tommy when a series of loud knocks thumped against the front door. The kid had agreed to meet up with Quackity and had even given him their exact coordinates. Philza had been hesitant about it at first, and rightfully so, but he'd relented anyway. He wasn't one to hold grudges, especially not against someone who was about to receive what was probably the worst news of his life.
Phil stood up and headed toward the front door, Tommy slowly trailing behind him, with his head down like a man walking to his own execution.
The older blonde wrapped a hand around the doorknob and pulled it open, staring down at the snow-covered figure on the other side. Quackity was barely recognizable beneath all the snow, but the moment the door opened, he shook himself off like a wet dog, sending snow flying absolutely everywhere and successfully getting chunks of it on both Phil and Tommy before storming inside without so much as a greeting.
"Quackity! Hey, heyyy, Big Q..." Tommy rambled nervously, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt before finally getting a proper look at him, the other not bothered to even spare a single glance at him. Phil quietly excused himself and started making his way upstairs before he got dragged into the middle of whatever was about to happen.
"Wait, what the fuck? Big Q, why do you have two white bear ears? Is that a tail?" Tommy asked, completely caught off guard when Quackity pulled off his beanie and dumped a pile of snow onto the floor, apparently not realizing the features were still there.
"Oh!" Quackity reached up instinctively, nearly forgetting about them. "They're just polar bear ears, dumbass. I had to shapeshift into one so I wouldn't get hypothermia and die out there, obviously."
Quackity paused for a second before launching into another rant. "You do realize how impractical it is to live in the Arctic, right? Personally, I've always loved living somewhere warm, it just makes so much more sense to me..."
Tommy continued staring at him like he'd grown a second head as the other kept rambling on. The confusion only deepened when the ears and tail suddenly vanished.
"What the fuck..."
"What? You've never seen somebody shapeshift before?" Quackity scoffed, brushing it off like it was nothing. "That's kinda sad, dude."
"Shut the hell up, man." Tommy groaned before immediately getting nervous again. "Just... um..." His stomach twisted. He had to tell Quackity the truth.
"Let's just go to the living room. I'll tell you what I wanted to talk to you about."
Quackity slowly nodded after hanging his cloak and leaving his shoes by the door, leaving him in his usual tracksuit, his wings instinctively curling around his torso to preserve what little warmth he still had. He followed Tommy into the living room and dropped onto the couch.
The house was considerably smaller than Tubbo's mansion, but it felt lived in, comfortable, And the crackling fireplace nearby only added to it.
"Alright..." Tommy rubbed the back of his neck. "I wanted to give you both good news and bad news about... Tilín."
The name immediately made Quackity perk up, staring at Tommy with expectant eyes. "Which news do you wanna hear first?" Tommy asked.
"Ummm, the good news?" Quackity answered uncertainly.
"Okay! So, the good news is that we did find Tilín and brought them into our house."
Those words made Quackity's wings flutter with happiness, the corners of his mouth already lifting instinctively as he started to rise from the couch. "Oh, that's wonderful! Can I see them? I need to see Tilín right now."
Tommy hurried forward and pushed Quackity back down onto the couch by his shoulders, awkwardly laughing at the offended look the other sent him before taking a good five steps backwards, which only made Quackity raise an eyebrow.
"But the... uh, bad news..." Tommy rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "The bad news is that a very bad guy called Dream broke into our house and... um... kind of kidnapped Tilín?"
The room fell into pure silence. The two men stared at each other until Quackity suddenly burst into laughter, nearly keeling over and catching Tommy completely off guard.
"WOW, that's a good one, Tommy. Really, I haven't heard that one yet. The guy from one of your stories stole my kid?" Quackity giggled hysterically, shaking his head and wiping away a tear that had escaped. "But seriously, I have to see Tilín."
"No, Quackity, I'm being a hundred percent serious. Tilín is fucking gone."
The complete lack of humor in Tommy's voice made Quackity's smile instantly falter, his brows furrowing in disbelief.
"What? No, no, you're lying, Tommy. They're not fucking gone, man. It's not funny anymore."
He looked at Tommy desperately, searching for any sign that this was some kind of joke, but Tommy's face gave away no hint of deception. Quackity slowly fell quiet, staring down at his lap.
"Huh..."
"How did... what..." His hands rose to his beanie, gripping it tightly as he started tugging at it in frustration.
"How did this happen? I just don't get it..."
"Big Q? Dude, maybe you should calm-"
Tommy nervously reached forward, attempting to pry Quackity's hands away before he ripped half his hair out, but they were immediately slapped away. Quackity lifted his head and stared directly into his eyes.
"How long did you know?"
"Um... know what?"
"How long did you know of Tilín's whereabouts before that son of a bitch kidnapped them?"
There was no emotion in Quackity's voice. Tommy felt a shiver run down his spine as Quackity continued staring holes into him.
"Like... I'd say approximately a day or so...?" The weak smile he offered did absolutely nothing to help, and the instant change in Quackity's posture said it all.
Before Tommy could even process what was happening, Quackity suddenly tackled him to the ground, the impact echoing throughout the house with a loud thud.
The golden-winged avian stared down at him with a look Tommy had never seen coming from him before. Both of Quackity's legs pinned him firmly to the floor while his hands grabbed the collar of Tommy's shirt and yanked him upward. Sure, Tommy could probably throw him off if he really wanted to, but after witnessing the whole shapeshifting thing, he wasn't exactly eager to test his luck.
He could already hear hurried footsteps descending the staircase.
"Why the FUCK didn't you tell me you knew where Tilín was the moment you found them?!" Quackity took a sharp breath before continuing, "WHY DID YOU KEEP IT FROM ME?!"
Tommy could barely get a word in edgewise as the other carried on.
"Was it fun?! Having me run around scared out of my fucking mind for a whole day?!" Quackity shouted, tears now streaming freely down his face as he aggressively shook the man beneath him.
"I couldn't even sleep because I was so worried something happened to them and you just-" His breath hitched, "You fucking asshole."
The weight on Tommy suddenly disappeared. Two hands had grabbed Quackity and pulled him back before he could continue. Whatever adrenaline had been keeping him upright vanished almost immediately. He sagged against whoever was holding him.
"This could've been avoided..." he muttered weakly, his voice rough from yelling. "If you had just told me where they were when I fucking asked you..."
He still managed to send Tommy a weak kick to the side before finally slumping completely against the figure behind him, breathing heavily.
"Tommy, I think it's best if you just go to your room right now. I can take it from here."
A deep voice from behind him spoke, but Quackity couldn't even turn around to face the person before a wave of exhaustion suddenly hit him. His eyes slumped shut and his body went limp in the person's hold.
Tommy let out a couple shaky breaths and pushed himself back to his feet with trembling arms, unable to tear his gaze away from Quackity's now unconscious figure.
"Yeah... yeah, I think that’s- I’ll go do that..." he spoke hoarsely and nearly stumbled over his own feet before rushing out of the living room.
Technoblade watched the boy until he completely disappeared from sight before looking back down at the man asleep in his arms. Even unconscious, he still wore the same stressed expression Techno remembered from all those years ago, the constant furrow of the brows and the deeply etched frown on his face.
His gaze wandered lower and settled on the golden wings hanging from the man’s back.
How had he never noticed these before? They were so...
Techno couldn’t help but keep staring until another voice beside him finally snapped him out of his trance.
"-Techno? I think you should lay him down in your bedroom. The eyebags on the poor guy are starting to look worrying." Philza stood nearby with an equally stunned expression.
"Wha- why does it have to be my room specifically? Can't we just let him rest on the couch?" Techno argued, but Phil just sent him an exasperated look.
"Tech, no offense, but sitting on the floor feels much nicer than sitting on that large brick you like to call a couch, plus I'm not exactly sure how he would react to seeing the nest on my bed, so..." The avian trailed off.
Technoblade huffed completely unconvinced in response and pushed past the man, starting making his way upstairs, soon reaching his bedroom at end of the hall with Quackity laying completely motionless in his arms.
It was small and cramped, just a king sized bed shoved against the wall with a multitude of chests sitting beside it. Nothing particularly impressive. In Technoblade's defense, he didn't actually use his room all that much, majority of the time he wasn't even that present at home at all, either raiding nearby villages or going on trips to search for more resources.
The only light inside came from the window on the opposite side of the room, so Techno reached over and lit a lantern, figuring Quackity probably wouldn't appreciate waking up in complete darkness.
He carefully lowered him onto the mattress and pulled the blanket over him. His eyes drifted toward the wings once more, the feathers catching the lantern light and almost seeming to glow beneath it.
Before he could get distracted by them again, he covered them with the blanket as well and stepped away from the bed. The piglin let out a deep exhale as he quietly shut the door behind him. His headache was slowly starting to return.
He turned around and descended the stairs, but was met with Philza at the bottom instead.
"Techno!"
"AH-"
Techno caught himself off guard and nearly fell down the last couple stairs, gripping the armrail tightly to steady himself.
"Phil! Jeez, you clearly know how to scare a man." He muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation, but only received a loud wheeze from Phil in response, who practically bent backwards while pointing at him.
"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up..." he groaned, waiting until Phil finally straightened back up before walking the rest of the way down the stairs, shoving him out of the way as he headed deeper into the house with the avian following closely behind him.
"Hey, okay. Techno, listen to me." Philza stifled another laugh when the other sent him a look of pure irritation.
"Hmmn... what."
"Alright, so. Regarding Quackity..." he started carefully, immediately earning a loud groan from Techno, who suddenly didn't want to be part of this conversation anymore.
"Phil, I think you of all people know my opinion about that guy. Even the fact that said guy is currently sleeping on my bed irks me. So please choose your next words very wisely."
"You're gonna have to get over it, mate." Techno opened his mouth to say something in rebuttal, but Phil cut him off before he could get a word in. "I'm aware of your history with him, but from what Tommy told me in the couple hours after Dream took Tilín, Quackity has apparently forgotten every single event that happened during the time he lived on this server."
Techno's expression didn't change, causing Phil to let out a small sigh before continuing.
"What I'm trying to say is, just put your differences aside for now. He's not gonna be at our throats for no reason, he doesn't know any of us. Hell, the guy lived in an entirely different server far, far away from here Tech, for the last couple years let me add. I'd like to believe he probably had some character development during that time." Phil laughed weakly at the end of his sentence, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly when Techno sent him yet another disappointed look.
"I doubt that Quackity has anyone to go to right now either. Well... except for Tommy, but you heard how that went." He added more quietly, his voice trailing off as he looked up at Techno with expectant eyes.
The other stood there, arms crossed tightly over his chest while he mulled the words over in his head, before eventually letting out a reluctant sigh and giving a small nod.
"Whatever."
...
Quackity let out a loud groan, his entire body ached like crazy and the warmth of the bed was compelling him to stay there, the mattress practically felt like his own personal heater after spending the night in that freezing cave. He turned over and smushed his face into one of the many pillows beneath him, his eyes already slipping shut again by the minute, but there was this queasy feeling twisting in his gut that he couldn't quite place. This felt way too peaceful...it felt wrong.
Tilín.
That was all it took for everything to come rushing back like a train. His breath caught in his throat, his hand immediately flying to pull the mountain of pillows off his face, and whatever comfort he'd managed to cling to vanished just as quickly as it'd come.
He pushed the blanket off himself and got out of bed in a rushed motion, barely steady on his feet as he made his way into the hallway. By the time he reached the stairs he nearly toppled down them with how quickly he was moving, one hand dragging along the railing just to keep himself balanced.
A blonde guy was standing in the kitchen when he came in, looking startled to see him awake so early, but still offered him a plate of food. Quackity didn't even slow down to look at him properly before shaking his head and pushing past the man, the motion sharp enough to cut off whatever attempt the older man was making to hand it over.
"I don't want your fucking eggs," he muttered, voice rough and scratchy after overexerting it with all the yelling he'd done. His wings shifted restlessly behind him, but he paid them no mind. "I need to find Tilín."
Philza didn't attempt to step in front of him, nor did he argue, he just stayed where he was and sent a pitying look his way.
That stare alone made irritation crawl beneath Quackity's skin.
God, he hated pity.
His hand had already reached the door handle before another voice cut in from somewhere behind him, deep and monotone, the same voice he'd heard before passing out a few hours prior.
"You're not going out there."
Quackity turned to look at him so sharply he nearly gave himself whiplash, staring down at the piglin sitting lazily on the couch, "And who the fuck are you to tell me that?"
His sentence didn't even get to finish before the guy spoke again, he didn't raise his voice or change his tone much at all, though there was something assessing in the way he looked at Quackity now that made him squirm slightly in place.
"So, as far as I'm aware, you don't know where you're goin' and you don't know who to ask. Neither do you know where to go. Runnin' outside isn't helpin' anyone, especially not the kid you're tryin' to find."
Phil spoke up too. "Quackity, he's right. You need to think about this a little more-"
"Oh my god, can you just shut the fuck up?" Quackity snapped, cutting him off before he could finish. The irritation in his voice was enough to make Phil stop talking altogether.
Quackity glared at Technoblade bitterly, both men stubbornly holding eye contact until Quackity finally relented with a frustrated breath and turned away from them both. He didn't argue further, because there really wasn't anything to argue against, instead storming off upstairs, the bedroom door shutting behind him harder than necessary.
Momentarily after that, Phil stayed where he was, staring after him with a look that said far more than anything he'd actually spoken aloud, while Technoblade simply shifted on the couch and acted as though nothing had happened.
Phil let out a slow exhale and glanced toward the staircase before turning back toward Techno, somewhere between tired and annoyed.
"You didn't have to say it like that." He scolded, shaking his head in dissapointedment.
"He was gonna run out there blind!" The piglin argued, rolling his eyes at him.
"Yeah, and now he's upstairs shutting down instead."
Techno finally picked his book back up again, not looking particularly bothered by any of this. "Ehhh..." He shrugged, "Better than dead."
Phil gave him a long look but didn't argue immediately, because unfortunately there wasn't really a proper answer to that. Instead he moved toward the counter and started preparing something with a quieter frustration settling into his posture. Neither of them followed Quackity. They let the silence sit for a while instead.
The day passed by quickly, but with Phil’s continuous persisting, Technoblade eventually stood up and grabbed something to eat from the kitchen, preparing a plate without much ceremony before heading upstairs. He knocked once at the bedroom door, careful but firm, and from inside came a muffled, strained "go away."
Techno considered that for roughly half a second before opening the door anyway.
“I’m leaving this here,” he said plainly, setting the food down near the lantern rather than approaching any closer. His eyes flicked toward the bed where Quackity was bundled under the sheets, clearly not wanting to be seen. “You looked like you were going to fall over earlier. You should really eat something.”
There wasn’t a response.
At first, all Techno got was the faint rustle of blankets as Quackity shifted underneath them. It felt less like he was considering an answer and more like he was deciding whether Techno was worth acknowledging at all, Technoblade didn't know whether he felt offended or amused by the man's attitude.
He lingered by the doorway before stepping further into the room. Techno looked mildly uncomfortable, though whether that was because of Quackity's state or simply because he was here at all was hard to tell.
"I know I'm probably not great at this kind of thing," he admitted flatly. "But layinh in bed for hours and doing nothing but feeling sorry for yourself isn't helping...so you should probably, you know, get up?"
Yet despite his 'best' efforts, Quackity didn't speak nor move any further, not even peeking his head from underneath the bedsheets. Techno took a deep sigh and glanced at the heap on his bed one last time.
"Good talk." Technoblade shrugged and turned around, leaving the room silently.
The silence that followed settled back in almost immediately, but it wasn’t the same suffocating kind from earlier, it felt more peaceful.
Quackity stayed where he was briefly, shifting up to sit against the headboard with his knees drawn in slightly, staring at nothing in particular. He didn't even feel angry anymore, he just felt completely defeated and tired. His eyes drifted toward the food left near the lantern, only just now remembering it was there.
He silently got up from the bed and reached for it after a moment of hesitation, pulling the plate closer and staring down at it properly. He tried to entertain the thought of eating it. Quackity wouldn’t say the food looked unappetizing, quite the opposite actually, but that didn’t stop the feeling of bile rising in his throat. His hands steadied around the edges to keep himself grounded. His shoulders eased slightly as he lifted it, and he turned toward the window without really thinking about it.
The latch came open with a quiet click, and cold air immediately slipped into the room, cutting through whatever warmth had been left behind. He didn’t react much. He just stood there, looking out at the snow, expression distant as he felt himself slipping into a trance, but he managed to shake it off and threw the contents out into the storm in one motion. It disappeared almost instantly into the white outside, swallowed by wind and distance, like it had never been there at all. The plate stayed in his hands a little longer before he stepped back and set it down carefully on the table near the bed.
He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t move back right away either. Quackity just stood there for a little longer, staring at the empty plate, his face unreadable as the window slowly let the cold air creep back into the room behind him. The anger from earlier had burned itself down into something quieter now and less explosive. His wings shifted once or twice behind him without him noticing, feathers twitching in small, restless movements.
He debated jumping straight out of the window then and there, he didn’t owe these people anything. For fuck’s sake he should be out there looking for Tilín instead of moping in this cramped room and waiting for some kind of divine intervention to fall into his hands.
Quackity lifted his hands to rub harshly at his eyes, "What the hell am I even doing..."
A knock came at the door, softer than Technoblade’s had been. Quackity rushed back to sit on the bed. He didn’t answer immediately, but didn't tell him off either.
Philza opened the door slowly anyway, carefully stepping inside to not alarm Quackity. He paused when he saw Quackity still sitting on the bed, then moved further in and sat down somewhere near the edge of the room rather than directly next to him.
"Hey mate." The blonde offered him a weak smile, but only received a look of distrust in return from the clearly distressed man, making him let out a sigh in defeat.
"Look, I'm not gonna tell you what to do," Phil said after a beat, his voice calm, as if he wasn't expecting anything in return. "Just... checking in, I guess. Feels kinda weird saying it out loud, but yeah."
That got something out of him. Not much, but enough for Quackity's eyes to drift away from the wall and settle on Phil instead, confusion flickering across his face.
Phil rubbed the back of his neck before continuing. "I know what it's like when your brain won't shut up. You get stuck in your own head, and suddenly every second feels way too long except your thoughts, which won't slow down." He paused, giving Quackity room to look away if he wanted. "You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to. But you also don't have to sit here dealing with all of it by yourself."
Quackity's expression eased, just enough for the tension around his eyes to soften.
"My point is, we’re all going to try our hardest to find Tilin, Quackity. If it's the least I can promise you."
It wasn’t comforting in any polished way, but it was honest, which was something Quackity could appreciate. Quackity let out a short, wet snort that surprised even him, lifting a hand to rub at his eyes, and that seemed to be enough to break something in his demeanor.
He didn’t suddenly feel better, not even close, but he stopped looking like he was about to get up and run straight back into danger’s way.
Quackity didn’t respond right away. But after a while, he pushed himself up properly and swung his legs off the bed.
"...fine," he muttered.
When he stood up, Phil followed without pressing further, and together they moved toward the hallway.
That was when Tommy appeared from his room. He stopped the second he saw Quackity, hesitation clear in the way his body went still, not sure if Quackity would tolerate his presence around him. Tommy's hands were full of paper, stacked unevenly.
"I-uh," he started, then quickly forced himself to continue before he could back out of it. "I made these."
He held out the stacks properly now. Missing posters, all of them clearly rushed but carefully done, Tilín’s name written repeatedly in different places, descriptions of their appearance and what he could assume was their contact info written on the bottom of the paper. Basically a fuckload amount of posters for how little time had passed.
Quackity looked at the pile, then glanced away immediately, jaw tightening in a manner that made it obvious he wasn’t ready to adress Tommy at all yet. There was a dark glower to his look, the anger from their previous altercation returning partially, but Phil's hand that came to rest on Quackity's shoulder made him calm down.
Tommy noticed and visibly hesitated, lowering the papers slightly, unsure what to do with his hands now.
Phil stepped in before the situation could turn into something worse. "We’re going to put them up around the SMP," he said simply, then glanced toward Technoblade and cleared his throat, who had just appeared further down the hallway. "All of us. If we want more eyes looking, we need more reach."
Techno gave a slow look between them all, clearly already understanding what was being asked without needing it spelled out. He exhaled through his nose, already tired of the logistics of it, but not entirely opposed to the idea itself.
"Fine," he said. “But if you start cryin’ about how heavy they are, I’m not helpin’." He pointed at Tommy's trembling arms, ready to give out any moment with how much paper he was holding.
"Fuck you, I can carry these just fine!" Tommy grumbled in rebuttal. Well that was the closest thing to agreement they were going to get, Philza sighed and rushed forward to take majority of Tommy's load out of his hands before the blonde collapsed.
The walk out toward the main SMP didn’t feel as heavy as earlier, mostly because there was already noise ahead. The festival hadn’t fully died down, and the streets were still filled with people moving between stalls and decorations, laughter and activity making everything feel deceptively normal.
They split the posters between them and started placing them wherever crowds would naturally pass, walls, posts, stall corners, anywhere visible enough that someone would stop and look. It wasn’t organized so much as practical, each of them just doing what made sense in the moment without needing to coordinate too much.
At one point, while they were moving through a more open stretch of the street, they ran into Awesamdude.
He noticed Tommy and Phil first and gave them a short nod in greeting. Phil nodded back normally, Tommy doing it a bit more hesitantly, still clearly unsure of the situation.
Then Sam’s eyes shifted, "Technoblade," he said, tone tightening slightly.
Techno looked at him with an amused expression, almost like he already knew exactly what was coming and didn’t particularly care. "Sam."
There was a beat of silence before Sam’s mouth twitched faintly. "Hope those dispensers are working out for you," he added, dry but not hostile.
Techno’s grin widened slightly, showing too much teeth for it to even look remotely friendly, Quackity felt a shiver run down his spine at the sight. "Oh, they’re doing great."
Sam’s attention moved again, landing on Quackity this time. His expression shifted immediately, irritation from earlier conversations dropping away into something more subdued, almost apologetic. He didn’t hesitate before speaking.
"Quackity."
Quackity blinked slightly, clearly caught off guard by the tone more than the name itself. The last time he had seen Sam, things hadn’t gone particularly well, and that memory was still very fresh.
"...hey," Quackity answered after a short while, quieter than expected, averting his gaze to stare at the fair share of posters in his arms.
"Listen, uh... I’m really sorry about how I lashed out at you a couple days ago. I just wasn’t thinking straight."
Sam’s expression softened further, and he shook his head slightly as if brushing something off.
"Forget about last time," he said simply. "If there’s anything I can do to help, tell me."
Phil answered before Quackity could, voice steady but serious. "Dream took someone. A kid. We’re trying to get them back."
That was enough to change Sam’s posture immediately. His expression sharpened, focus locking in as whatever personal history was there got pushed aside.
"Dream," he repeated, more to himself than anyone else. Then he nodded once, firm. "I can try to help you, but I’m afraid that after his escape from the prison, and with him imprisoning me... it’s a long story, but I could never succeed in finding any information about his whereabouts."
Quackity’s brows furrowed in frustration at that. Great. Just another thing to add to his already growing pile of fears, the guy probably had a secret dungeon he resided in, God knows where Tilín could be right now.
Sam’s gaze fell onto Quackity’s frustrated expression, and he cleared his throat.
"I haven’t really been in the Pandora’s Vault ever since, but we could always go back to try and look for something that he might’ve accidentally left there. Just don’t get your hopes up."
Philza hummed thoughtfully and eventually nodded, talking for the four of them. "That’s fine. We’ll take our chances. We could use all the help we need right now. But first we need to finish putting up these missing posters though."
Sam walked forward and grabbed a good pile from Philza's hands, offering to spread them around the SMP while they walked to their destination, meeting Quackity's grateful gaze staring up at him and giving him a warm nod in return.
...
When all five of them finally reached Pandora’s Vault, Quackity let out a long, exhausted breath, his legs aching from the trek despite Sam repeatedly offering to carry him or at least slow down the pace. He had refused each time with a strained thank you, stubbornly pushing forward anyway, even as Sam kept glancing back at him with that same unreadable sadness, surprisingly obvious for someone wearing a mask. It was uncanny how much emotion still managed to slip through.
The entrance was entirely boarded up with thick doors that could only be opened through a series of multiple combinations.
Quackity tried to ask what was wrong with it all, but Sam’s voice cut through before he could get the words out.
"Are you all coming?" Sam asked, his tone low and cautious as he finished entering the combination.
Tommy immediately shook his head with a humorless laugh from where he stood further back, lingering at the entrance instead of stepping inside with them, his hands shoved into his sleeves. "I’m good. I’m not going in there. Ever again."
Nobody argued, and Sam simply nodded in understanding before continuing on with the others.
Sam led the way deeper into the prison, the heavy mechanisms of the place shifting and locking behind them as they moved further in. Quackity kept glancing between the others as they walked, noticing how tense everyone had become except for Phil, who at least looked steady enough to keep moving forward without hesitation.
He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong with them, but Sam’s voice cut through before he could get the words out
As they went deeper, the place only got more unsettlingly abandoned, not just empty cells but signs that things had been ransacked, disturbed, or outright cleared out in a hurry. Quackity found himself looking around more than he should have, irritation and discomfort mixing together as he tried to ignore how discomforting everything felt.
Phil split off from the rest of the group to go search while Sam and Quackity drifted into a quieter exchange near one of the corridors, Sam trying to explain something about the prison layout while Quackity half-listened, leaning slightly against the wall as his attention wandered. It was during that moment, while the two of them were distracted, that Technoblade peeled away without much comment, moving further down one of the side corridors on his own.
The corridor he wandered into felt even more deserted than the rest, and after a few minutes of searching, he came across what looked like a small storage corner tucked behind reinforced panels. Inside, half-buried under dust and old equipment, was a worn book, its cover beaten and stained like it had been left there purposefully rather than forgotten.
Both Sam and Quackity were still talking behind him when he picked it up, flipping it open lazily as if expecting nothing important. The pages were mostly useless, either damaged or ripped clean out, leaving only fragments of writing that didn’t amount to anything useful.
"Found anything?" Quackity called over, still not fully paying attention.
"Nah, nothing useful," Techno replied flatly, turning another page. It wasn’t until the final page that something slipped out.
A small, terribly familiar ribbon fell from between the pages, worn and unmistakably intentional in how it had been placed there. The instant it hit the ground, the entire group got silenced. Even the air felt like it had tightened.
Quackity stopped mid step, his eyes locked onto it immediately, recognition and disbelief hitting him at the same time, his expression twisting into pure agony as he stared at the ribbon like he wasn't believing what he was seeing.
"What the fuck is this?"
Quackity quickly stepped forward and kneeled down, snatched the ribbon that fell on the ground right infront of Techno, it was drenched in fresh blood, Quackity felt sick to his stomach. The longer he stared at it, the more his eyes started to sting, pushing himself back to his feet while having to blink hard to prevent himself from bursting into tears on the spot.
"I think I'm gonna be sick, holy fuck." Quackity choked out, his hand trembling violently before Sam stepped forward to steady it with his bigger one, his other hand coming to steady at Quackity' side and rub circles into his back when the other bend down to spit out whatever little bile rose up from his stomach.
"That’s impossible, Dream shouldn’t have been able to enter the prison at all! I made sure to lock it down for good." Sam's voice rose in barely contained anger, but Techno could see the flash of fear in his eyes appear for a brink of a second.
Slowly, Technoblade lowered the book, the reality of what they were looking at finally sinking in. His grip loosened just a little as his eyes drifted to the ribbon clenched tightly in Quackity’s hand. He didn’t say a word, but his expression hardened. His gaze wandered past the corridor, scanning the area with quiet suspicion until it landed on an almost perfectly hidden camera, its lens pointed directly at them.
Sam was the first to move. The motion felt like an attempt to break the silence before it swallowed the room whole. Even then, his eyes kept flicking back to the ribbon before he forced himself to look elsewhere. Whatever was on his mind didn’t come out immediately. He hesitated, lingering longer than necessary as if weighing whether saying anything would help at all. In the end, seeing Quackity staring down at the ribbon with shaking hands was enough to push him into urging the group forward.
Eventually, when Phil returned, they started moving again, but the atmosphere had changed completely. Every step felt careful, as though they had all silently agreed not to mention what had happened, broken only by the occasional sniffle from Quackity. Techno lingered behind the others, the book still resting in his hands. His eyes stayed lowered as he turned it over one last time before quietly shutting it and tossing it aside. Whatever conclusion he had reached never made it past his lips. He kept it locked behind his eyes before finally following the others down the corridor.
...
By the time they finally returned to the entrance where Tommy had been waiting impatiently for them, the blonde had even managed to plaster the remaining posters over every single surface of the prison he could reach, coughing awkwardly when Phil sent him an exhausted look.
Sam had fallen into step beside Quackity again, his voice lower now, more careful, trying not to disturb the balance of whatever mood had settled over all of them.
"Are you sure you’ll be fine staying with them?" he asked after a beat, his hand briefly resting on Quackity’s shoulder. "You know my door is always open for you if you need it."
Quackity let out a short, breathy laugh that didn’t fully reach anything resembling humor, shaking his head as he kept walking, though his focus kept slipping in and out of place. "I’ll be alright, Sam, I promise." he said, though the words sounded more like something he was repeating to himself than something he actually believed, his gaze briefly flicking between Phil and Technoblade ahead of them, then drifting further until it landed on Tommy near the edge of the group.
Tommy was talking to Technoblade in that half-relaxed way he only ever seemed to manage when he forgot to be tense, laughing at something Techno had said under his breath, before catching Quackity looking and immediately faltering into something smaller, much more hesitant. He offered a quick, awkward smile instead that didn't quite reach his eyes.
Quackity looked at him for a moment longer than necessary, then slowly nodded once, the movement shallow and unreadable.
"Yeah, I'll be alright..." he said again, quieter this time, before turning his attention forward and continuing without adding anything else.
...
A cloaked figure moved silently through the thinning festival crowd, blending effortlessly amongst the remaining villagers still lingering around the square. The celebrations had long since begun winding down, merchants packing away their wares while others eagerly counted the day's earnings, their voices carrying softly through the cold evening air.
Punz stopped at a blacksmith stall near the edge of the marketplace and rested an elbow against the counter.
"You got my order?"
The blacksmith grunted in response before disappearing beneath the stall, only to reappear a while later with a small bundle wrapped tightly in cloth.
"Finally."
Punz tossed a couple gold ingots onto the counter before taking the package and tucking it beneath his cloak. The exchange would've ended there if something pinned to a nearby wall hadn't caught his attention. It was a missing poster.
Tilín's name had been scrawled across the top in thick lettering above a rushed sketch and a brief description beneath it. At first he only spared it a passing glance, but as his eyes drifted further down the street, he quickly realized it wasn't the only one. Another had been nailed to a nearby stall, another plastered against a fence post, and several more scattered throughout the square until it became impossible to look anywhere without spotting one fluttering in the winter wind.
Punz stepped closer and tore the nearest poster from the wall.
The paper crinkled loudly in his hand as he looked it over, studying the ugly ass sketch for a few seconds before a slow grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Well.
That had happened considerably faster than he'd expected.
Reaching beneath his cloak, he retrieved a communicator from one of the inner pockets and activated it. The screen flickered to life.
/msg Dream: They're searching. Posters are everywhere.
Punz glanced back toward the square, watching a pair of villagers stop to read one of the notices before continuing on their way.
The response arrived without hesitation.
/msg Punz: Good.
Punz rolled his eyes. Confident bastard.
/msg Dream: Think they'll find anything?
/msg Punz: No.
/msg Punz: Keep watching.
/msg Punz: And tell me if Quackity strays from the group.
Punz locked the communicator and slipped it back beneath his cloak before glancing down at the poster still clenched loosely in his hand. After a moment's consideration, he folded it neatly and tucked it into his pocket.
Just in case.
Pulling his hood lower over his face, he disappeared back into the crowd while dozens of identical posters continued fluttering throughout the festival grounds.
...
Dream remained seated for several minutes after sending his final message, the faint glow of the communicator illuminating his face before the screen finally dimmed and plunged the room back into darkness. Slowly, he slipped the device into his pocket and leaned back in his chair, allowing the silence to settle around him. The facility remained quiet outside the distant hum of machinery hidden somewhere deeper within the structure. A handful of lanterns mounted along the walls provided the only source of light, their dim glow barely reaching the concrete hallways stretching beyond the room.
Waiting had never particularly bothered him. He'd spent years doing exactly that, waiting for people to unknowingly place themselves exactly where he wanted them before making his move.
His gaze drifted toward the reinforced door positioned across the room. A narrow observation window had been built into the metal, just large enough to see inside without compromising security.
Dream pushed himself upright and crossed the room. The metal flooring echoed softly beneath his footsteps before fading into silence once more as he stopped in front of the window and looked inside.
The cell beyond was intentionally sparse, furnished with little more than a bed, a chair, and a desk pushed against the far wall. Tilín remained asleep beneath a thick blanket, curled motionlessly atop the mattress and completely unaware of the attention fixed upon them.
Good, that made things easier.
Dream studied the child quietly. He gritted his teeth at the irritatingly obvious resemblance.
His fingers tapped lightly against the metal door, the sound carrying faintly through the otherwise silent corridor, but Tilín didn't stir.
The search had already begun in earnest and the more desperate Quackity became, the more predictable he'd be.
People liked to imagine they thought rationally under pressure, but fear had a habit of stripping away that illusion remarkably quickly. Especially when family was involved.
Dream's gaze lingered on the sleeping child for another moment before he finally stepped away from the window and crossed toward the opposite side of the room.
A large map covered most of the wall there, littered with markings, notes, and strands of string connecting various locations together. Several monitors flickered nearby, continuously replaying footage gathered from cameras hidden throughout Pandora's Vault. Dream's attention settled on the search party moving through its halls, watching them discover "clues" while remaining completely unaware of how little progress they were actually making was amusing to say the least.
After another couple minutes, Dream glanced over his shoulder toward Tilín's room one final time before reaching up and extinguishing the nearest lantern.
Darkness swallowed the hallway almost immediately and somewhere behind the reinforced door, the child continued sleeping peacefully, completely unaware of the storm slowly gathering around them.
...
The rest of the day passed relatively uneventfully. They spent hours asking around if anyone had seen Dream lurking anywhere nearby, as well as describing Tilín's appearance to practically every person they came across, hoping someone would recognize them or at least point them in the right direction, but all they received in return were apologetic looks, shrugs, and increasingly confused answers.
As much as Quackity tried to distract himself by focusing on the rest of the group and whatever conversations were happening around him, he just couldn't let his guard down. Not after what they'd found.
Not after seeing Tilín's bloodstained ribbon shoved between the pages of that anti-social freak's diary. Just thinking about it made something twist violently in his stomach.
The image kept replaying over and over inside his head no matter how hard he tried to push it away.
He wanted to cave that degenerate's face in.
The sun was already beginning to set by the time the group finally took it as their cue to retreat back to the cottage after spending the entire day running around searching for clues, only to be met with one dead end after another.
Needless to say, Quackity looked less than thrilled about it.
"You can just sleep in my room again, I don't mind. I'll sleep on the couch."
Technoblade hummed the offer casually when they finally reached the house, everyone else already beginning to settle in for the night while the pair lagged behind near the entrance.
"What?!" Quackity immediately turned to stare at him. "That was your room? With how empty it looked I thought it was just a spare- um."
His voice died awkwardly in his throat after he realized he was basically shitting on the man's creative choices to his face. Technoblade stared back at him completely deadpan.
"...I'll just go."
Quackity mumbled the words under his breath before quickly turning around and heading upstairs, feeling Techno's stare boring into the back of his skull the entire way up until he finally disappeared around the corner.
Only then did he let out a relieved sigh.
After washing himself off, Quackity had practically collapsed into bed. Every part of his body ached, exhaustion settling deep into his bones after everything that had happened. He barely even managed to pull the blankets over himself before sleep dragged him under completely, one hand still clenched tightly around Tilín's bunched up ribbon.
As always, peaceful things never seemed to last very long for Quackity.
It couldn’t have been more than a couple hours later when he jolted awake again, his dreams twisting into endless possibilities of what could’ve happened to Tilín. Every scenario felt worse than the last, each one tightening the knot of anxiety in his stomach until lying still wasn’t an option anymore.
With a tired groan, he pushed himself upright and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, already feeling the familiar pressure in his chest build as he moved. His grip on the ribbon never loosened as he shuffled toward the door and quietly pulled it open.
The hallway was obnoxiously dark and he briefly considered going back for the lantern sitting on the bedside table, but the thought of making the trip felt exhausting enough that he immediately discarded the idea. Instead, he settled for dragging his fingertips along the wall as he walked, slowly navigating his way through the unfamiliar darkness.
A few minutes later he found himself outside.
After scraping away the thick layer of snow covering the front steps, Quackity lowered himself onto the porch and stared out at the sleeping landscape. The moon hung overhead, casting enough light across the snow for him to make out the world around him without completely stumbling into something.
He drew a slow breath and pulled his knees closer to his chest, the hand holding Tilín's ribbon pressing instinctively against his heart.
"We'll get you back, Tilín. No matter what it takes. Even if I have to rip through that son of a bitch holding you captive myself." He whispered bitterly, ignoring the way his lower lip started to tremble.
Quackity swallowed hard and looked up at the moon, his eyes already beginning to sting. He hated how helpless he felt. Hated sitting around while somebody else decided what happened to his kid. Hated that every second that passed felt wasted, that he was wasting precious time that could've been used to search for Tilín.
The sound of a door opening behind him made him flinch violently. His wings immediately flared out on instinct as he spun around, only relaxing again when he saw Phil stepping outside with two steaming mugs in hand.
"Oh."
Quackity let out a breath, releasing the tight grip he instincively held on the axe resting at his hip, "It's just you."
Phil chuckled softly and made his way over before lowering himself onto the porch beside him. Without a word, he offered one of the mugs.
Quackity accepted it immediately, the heat seeped into his frozen fingers almost instantly, and after taking a cautious sip he nearly groaned in relief.
"You couldn't sleep either?" Phil asked him, taking a sip from his own mug. Quackity shook his head, making Phil hum knowingly. "Yeah. Me neither."
Silence settled between them momentarily before Phil glanced over at him from the corner of his eye.
"It was about Tilín, wasn't it?"
The question felt unnecessary, the look in Phil's face told him that the man already knew the answer, but Quackity still nodded anyway.
A gentle hand settled against his shoulder, warm and steady despite the cold around them. When Quackity's expression started crumpling despite his best efforts, Phil's hand shifted, rubbing slow circles against his back.
Quackity placed his mug beside him on the step before he dropped it and buried his face against his knees, one hand immediately threading underneath his beanie and through his hair, tugging harshly at the strands.
"Q," Phil said quietly, his voice carrying the same patient tone he'd used all day. "I know things look bad right now, but today we got one step closer to figuring out where Dream's actually is."
Quackity lifted his head and stared at him with furrowed brows, a bitter smile forming on his face.
"We didn't find shit, Philza. This fucking bow is the only thing we found, and every time I look at it, the more I feel like an absolute disgrace of a dad. Tilín—"
Phil quietly slid a hand into his back pocket and pulled out an incredibly familiar wooden sign. It was caked in grime and dirt from who knew how long spent outside, but the writing across its surface remained unmistakably clear. They were coordinates, written in Tilín's exact handwriting.
Quackity's eyes widened as he cupped his hands over his mouth to hold back a silent scream, mindful of how late it was.
"I found this when I went searching on my own," Phil said quietly. "Almost walked right past it since it was basically tossed in with all the other shit lying around there. But I've been smacked in the face by enough of Tilín's signs that I could probably recognize them anywhere by now."
A faint smile tugged at his mouth as he reminisced, scratching the back of his neck, "Might as well start seeing them in my nightmares at this point."
Quackity slowly nodded, still unable to take his eyes off the sign.
"We'll keep searching tomorrow," Phil continued. "We're not stopping until we find him. It's gonna be okay, mate. Trust me."
The rims of Quackity's eyes were visibly red now, exhaustion and stress making it impossible to hide. He stared at Phil for a long moment before giving a small, uncertain nod.
"I'm sorry." His laugh came out weak and wet as he let his hands fall back into his lap. "It's just... really hard to trust people with stuff like this after only knowing them for a day."
He rubbed aggressively at his eyes before any tears could escape and quickly looked away again, focusing on the moon instead.
Phil let out another quiet chuckle. "Yeah, I guess that's fair."
The hand on Quackity's shoulder finally dropped away, but neither of them moved from the porch. They simply sat there in comfortable silence, staring up at the night sky.
Eventually, After Quackity rocked himself back and forth into exhaustion, his breathing slowed. The tension gradually drained from his shoulders. Little by little, his head tipped sideways until it came to rest against Phil's shoulder, his eyelids slipping shut not long after.
Phil didn't comment on it. He merely shifted a little closer and unfolded one of his wings, draping it carefully around Quackity's shoulders.
"Oh, Quackity..." His voice was soft, though there was still a hint of self-deprecation beneath it.
"If only you knew."