#doomsdaytrio

Upon Philza’s next footstep, Techno heard an observer click.  Faint and muffled– imbedded somewhere in the tunnel wall, perhaps– following by an even quieter but distinct buzz as a TNT fuse was lit.

“Phil, to me!” Techno bellowed, already turning around and taking Dream into his arms.  He lifted the human easily and pressed him into the bulk of his chest.  Dream’s breath left him on the impact, but with his limp, Techno worried about the boy’s ability to get out of harm’s way quickly.  He extended a hand towards Philza– his lifelong partner, his most trusted friend– and snatched his wrist, pulling him quickly into himself.

Techno remembered feeling the rush of adrenaline through his torso, his muscles seizing and stiffening as he turned himself into a shield for his partners.  He saw a flash of fear on Dream’s delicate, sharp features, his eyes lighting with concern.  He saw Phil’s hair flash like a flag as he rushed to them, and Techno put an arm around his wing to prevent him from wrapping it around them.  He worried about hurting them, but he determined it was worth the risk.  They were both too small, too fragile, too painfully shatterable to survive a blast at this range.  He pressed them into his stomach and prayed his size would be enough.

He remembered feeling an intense pressure at his back, a ringing in his ears, and blackness.

—

When Techno was next aware of himself, he was laying facedown on the muddy floor of the tunnel.  The blast had pushed him a notable distance.

The pain only hit when he tried to move.  His back was torn to shreds; he was grateful he wasn’t able to see it, but the hot pain (like the whips and flogs of the arena– how long has it been since he knew this pain?) gathered where his muscles flexed.  The ringing in his ears persisted as he raised himself from the ground.

Dream was pinned beneath him, eyes open but unseeing.  Philza, only half-tucked beneath Techno’s shoulder and arms, began to writhe.

“No, no no,” Techno started, finding his voice quiet compared to the tinnitus, “Hey.”

With a hand under Dream’s jaw, he discovered that the young human must’ve hit his head when they were flung, and his forearms were scorched and bruised.  He might’ve wrapped his arms around Techno at the last second.  Philza’s shoulder and neck were covered in burns, and his neck was bleeding badly.  Despite his initial writhing, his mumbles were unintelligible and his movements slow.  He was pale.

“No, no.” Techno scrambled for the remains of his cape, his hands searching along the ground for anything he could use to stop the bleeding.  It was burned off his back, but a few scraps of it remained a few feet in front of them.  He grabbed it and pressed it, desperately, into Phil’s neck.

Phil almost appeared to make eye contact, but his eyes held little intelligence.

“Don’t die, okay?  Don’t die,” Techno told him.  The tinnitus blocked out the voices of his Chat– a small blessing.  “Tell Kristin that it’s still my turn with you.”

Dream whined– a high-pitched sound from somewhere in his throat– and began to stir.  Techno placed his open hand flat on the boy’s chest.  “Hey, Dream.  Don’t move too much.”

“Wha–” Dream started.  He’d just began to recover from the head trauma Quackity inflicted on him, and Techno feared long-term repercussions.  “Techno.  Techno.  You’re bleeding.”

“We’re all bleedin’, dude.  You gotta take it easy.”

“No, Techno, you’re bleeding.”  

Technoblade was distantly aware that the blood on his back was seeping forward, drenching his white shirt with a maroon shade.  He was distantly aware that the string at his collar was dripping blood onto Dream.  He could think of nothing besides the fact that his two most beloveds were dying in front of him.

“It’s cool, it’s cool.  I’m fine.”  Techno leaned forward until he could press his forehead against Dream’s, just for a second, hoping to comfort him.  “You have anythin’ in your inventory?  Health pots, gapples?”

“Y.. Yeah, I… I do, I–” Dream tried to sit as he moved into action, and Techno gently pushed him back to the ground.

“Don’t move, dude.”

“Techno…” “Health pots, Dream,” The piglin reminded him, noting that the concussed boy seemed to have already forgotten his request.  Dream pulled up his inventory from his position on his back, clumsily sorting through the many items he carried with him.  Techno watched him, guiltily.  Phil’s hands roamed aimlessly around his own upper body, trying to clutch at the places that hurt him.  He found Techno’s fingers and clawed at them with his fingernails.  “Look, I’m so sorry,” Techno said, addressing both of them but knowing his words may not reach them, or may be forgotten, “I tried to protect both of you and I think I did a pretty bad job of it.  You both gotta live, okay?”

Dream’s head momentarily lulled to the side as he lost consciousness again, but he recovered quickly.  His green eyes wandered fearfully over Philza, lying half-dead beside him, before landing again on the spots of Techno's blood that landed on his shirt.

Techno felt his vision fade, and he was gone before he had the chance to warn them.

—

He’d wake on Philza’s living room floor, laying on his stomach.

Someone must’ve transformed the living room into a giant nest.  He was lying on a mattress that was a little bit too small for him– one of the human mattresses, surely– and his limbs hung ungracefully off its edges, but a few layers of blankets separated his fur from the cold wooden floor.  He noticed a tight weight around his whole torso.  He was wrapped in bandages from naval to collar, with some smaller bandages adhered to his long ears and neck, and the scent of burnt fur filled his nostrils.  The small hand of a human rested, comfortable and limp, in the palm of his hand.

Disoriented, he wondered for a moment why they chose to nap in such an odd spot.  Remembering the blast, he nearly leaped from the mattress, but the pain stopped him.

“Whoa, Techno.  Not so fast, alright?” came Philza’s warm voice.  

Techno never felt so relieved to hear him.  He lifted his head until he could face the direction of the fireplace, and there he found the beautiful sight of Philza and Dream cuddling together, Dream fully asleep with his face resting on Phil’s diaphragm.  It was Dream’s hand that was placed neatly in Techno’s, outstretched towards him as he slept.

Both of them were wrapped in bandages, their hair tousled and messy.  But they were alive.

“You saved us, love,” Phil continued, “I just wish you didn’t hurt yourself so badly in the process.”

“Worth it.”  Techno squeezed his hand around Dream’s.  “How’d we get home?”

“Not sure.  I think Dream did a lot of it.  And he hurt himself doing it, too.  He’s all bruised, and I think he pulled something in his shoulder.”  Phil ran a hand through Dream’s long hair.  “You two have that in common.  Self-sacrifice.”

An ironic statement from a man who lost a wing to protect his son.  Techno didn’t argue with it.  “Who would trap the tunnel?”

“Don’t know.  But I’m worried they know about the meeting room.  When we’re healthy, we should go check on it.”

“Or ask Niki to.  I don’t want either of you near it right now.”

“We could ask Connor.”

Techno snorted.  “We could ask Connor.”

In his sleep, Dream nuzzled into Phil and sighed.  Techno got accustomed to Dream sleeping constantly as he recovered from the last concussion, and he supposed he’d have to prepare himself for a similar recovery.  Techno imagined Dream dragging his giant piglin body through that tiny tunnel while his head injury raged, his thin body straining, his shoulder popping out of place.  But at least they were all alive.  So long as they lived, they would be okay.