Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tango was tired. He was always tired these days, but today he felt worse. Too bad the world wasn’t going to wait for him to feel awake again. He swung himself out of bed, stumbling before catching himself on his dresser. The wood began to rot under his touch, and he quickly let go of it. He grabbed his gloves, pulling them over his blackened hands. He grabbed his cloak too, pulling it on over the clothes he was already wearing before leaving the room.

He bypassed the kitchen altogether, completely forgetting about doing anything along the lines of brushing his teeth or combing his hair. He had a fresh set of shulker boxes filled with material waiting in his storage room, and that meant he had work to do. Good work to do, not just the boring grind that usually awaited him at the start of every day.

He filled up his inventory with the boxes he had laid out the day before, then headed outside. Like usual it was snowing when he got out there. He somewhat wished he could still feel the bite of the cold on his skin, but that had been taken from him long ago. He wasn’t sure if he could still feel heat, it was always cold out here. His skin hadn’t seen sunlight since he’d made the decision to move from his starter base out here. Maybe it was a good thing that he could no longer feel cold; it made living in the snow so much easier.

Ironic that just a few months ago he’d been planning a much different base. Fueled by his normal firy branding he’d been wanting to create a temple to a long forgotten sun god. Funny how plans change over time, isn’t it.

But, he was getting off topic. It was time for a new build, another library, but this one different than the one he had done before. Void below, before felt so far away now… He shook his head, not allowing himself to get swallowed back up by memories. He didn’t have the time for that. This library was different in design and structure. It centered on circles, using a nearly monochrome palette and a closed off design. When it was done it was going to look perfect, but first he had to build it.

He started with the floor first. He wasn’t sure exactly what possessed him to start with the floor, but creating the rings of the build first seemed to help. He knew exactly what to do after that. The walls almost seemed to build themselves, rising from the floor below. The interior was mapped out, mazes of bookshelves, and at the center of the second floor, 24 lecterns. One for everyone, for the end. 

It was better this way, he reminded himself. He was lonely, but it was better this way. There was nothing anyone could do. It was better this way. He placed the last block on the roof, and blinked. Wow, he had worked fast. There was only the interior to do now, and some minor detailing. He made his way inside.

Placing the blocks was almost automatic. A couch here, more bookshelves there, a nook there, a shrine- No. Not a shrine. He didn’t do that anymore. He had been abandoned by his god, so he in turn would abandon his god. Mutual abandonment. Maybe that would make it hurt less? No, probably not.

He placed the 23rd lectern and froze. One more left. Only one more. Void below, why did that hurt so much? He needed to place the last one, but it felt so… final. Ugh, if he was having so much trouble placing the lecterns, how hard was it going to be to write the books? Well at least he knew the answer to that question: excruciatingly.

His lungs crunched in on themselves, and his entire body crumpled in with them. Then they expanded again, leaving only a ghostly feeling of pain and tension as a reminder of what had just happened. That was the 11th time they’d done that today. That wasn’t good. It was progressing.

He placed the last lectern and left the library. He was suddenly aware of just how tired he was. He crawled into bed, tossing his covers over him. He knew he should probably eat, but it wasn’t like that mattered anymore. He fell asleep within seconds.

The next time he woke up he felt horrible. The odd angle of the sun, and the fact that he could see it through his curtains, told him he had slept for a while. He pulled himself out of bed with a grunt, once again grabbing onto a shelf for stability, but this time for the nausea. It was moving too fast. Much too fast. He needed to get started on the books today, otherwise he may never have the time to make them.

He made his way to his desk, lacey robe flowing behind him, and found a ink-bottle and a quill that was intact. He pulled a book out from under the desk and dropped it on the table. It felt difficult to lift, and he had to give himself a second to recover before opening the cover.

Ok, starting off slow: Joe. The words didn’t come easily, but eventually he found the ones he wanted. After a few more tormenting days he found himself at the last book: Bdubs. Ok, last message. One final letter for the world, then that was likely it.

Bdubs-

Hey, buddy. I know I haven’t been a great friend this season, not since the very beginning of the season at least. But I want to thank you for trying. Even after I started isolating, after I moved out here to the middle of nowhere, you kept trying. Messages to my comm asking me if I wanted to pop by for a game or a chat or a meeting, it meant a lot that you kept texting me even after I stopped answering. I’m so sorry that I won’t be here to see

“Hello, Tango?” Called a voice from down the hall, and Tango’s head nearly hit the ceiling.

That was Bdubs. What was Bdubs doing here? Why was he here? What could he possibly want-

“Tango? You… alive?”

He cleared his throat, mentally preparing himself for how bad his voice was going to sound. He couldn’t have Bdubs just roaming the halls though, and he wasn’t going to risk standing.

“Bdubs!” His voice was gruff and cracking. “In here.”

“Tango? I can’t-”

The door opened and Bdubs stood in front of him, staring. Tango suddenly realised how bad he must look. He hadn’t combed his hair in weeks, and about everything else he should’ve done was on the same timeline.

“Oh my god, Tango.” Bdubs whispered.

Shit. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go, this wasn’t-

“Hey, hey!” Bdubs said gently. “You’re ok…”

Tango fixed his eyes on the floor.

“Tango, look at me.”

He didn’t move. 

“Tango, please look at me…”

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

“Tango?”

He forced his eyes back up to where Bdubs was. Bdubs was a few steps closer now, hovering as if Tango was a scared animal, afraid to make any sort of movement. 

“Hey, Bdubs…” He rasped.

“Oh, Tango… what happened?”

How was he supposed to answer that? He hated lying, but he also did not want to tell the truth. Bdubs took another few tiny steps closer.

“Everything’s going to be ok.”

Yeah. Right.

“We’ll talk to X, figure out a plan. Everything will be ok.”

Talk to X? For what? Bdubs took another few steps closer, and Tango realised what he was trying to do. He slammed the book shut, the motion sending waves of nausea through his body. But he acted too late. Bdubs had seen the writing inside, Tango could tell from the tears that were forming in his eyes.

“Everything will- Everything will be ok.”

Oh. Oh, Bdubs must- Bdubs probably thought he was suicidal now. Shit. How could he talk his way out of this? Bdubs pulled his comm from his pocket, and Tango’s heart leapt into his throat. 

“Don’t-”

“Tango- Tango I have to- I can’t let you-” His breathing stuttered, and his words trailed off.

Tango’s heart ached as the first tears began to roll down Bdubs’ face. This is exactly what he was trying to avoid…

“I’m not going to do anything. I promise. Just give me 1 more day, then you can call X. I have something I need to finish.”

“Tango- Tango i can’t let you hurt yourself-” Bdubs broke off into another shuddering gasp.

“I’m not going to, I promise. Just give me 1 more day, then you can call X.”

“I don’t- Tango I can’t-”

“I would never lie to you, Bdubs.”

“Tango- I can’t- I can’t have your death on my hands-”

“And you won’t. I promise.”

“You really prom- promise?”

“Of course.”

“Ok. Ok, 1- 1 day. Then I’m getting X and we’re coming to find you.”

Tango nodded.

“Ok.”

“Ok…”

Bdubs hovered for a second, then walked out of the door. Tango waited until his footsteps faded away, then opened the book again and continued where he left off.

Bdubs-

Hey, buddy. I know I haven’t been a great friend this season, not since the very beginning of the season at least. But I want to thank you for trying. Even after I started isolating, after I moved out here to the middle of nowhere, you kept trying. Messages to my comm asking me if I wanted to pop by for a game or a chat or a meeting, it meant a lot that you kept texting me even after I stopped answering. I’m so sorry that I won’t be here to see your megabase this season. Or anything you create ever again. When you came in here I told you I wasn’t going to do anything, and I’m not. I’ve been sick since I was little, but my god stopped protecting me and the illness began to progress when we started the season. That’s why I came out here, to distance myself and hopefully make my death easier for all of you. I mean you’ve basically lived months without me, now you just have to do the rest of your life. I’m going to miss you.

Forever your friend,

Tango L. Tek

With the last book written, Tango hauled himself out of his chair. Tomorrow, after he had rested, he’d take the books out to the library for the hermits to find. And by 1 day from now, when Bdubs arrived with X, he’d probably be dead. But first, rest was needed. He left the office and crawled back into bed.

Chapter Text

When Tango woke up the birds were chirping. He didn’t even realise he had birds until now. He pulled himself out of bed and loaded the books into a cart to take up to the library. He got halfway there when he realised something: He’d put the lecterns upstairs. He’d have to carry all of the books up the stairs.

He groaned and continued on, already dreading what would be many trips up and down the stairs. This plan was not well thought out. He reached the staircase and stopped. There was no way that he, in his weakened state, was going to be able to drag the cart up the stairs. He’d have to take them one at a time.

The first few trips were tedious, but not too difficult. He took one book at a time, never wavering as he went up one step, then another. One step, then another, over and over again until he reached the top. Then he did it again to go back down, and again to go up, and again and again and again until there were only 10 books left. Feeling weirdly strong, he grabbed two books at a time and hauled them up the stairs. He repeated that twice until he got off center and nearly fell down the stairs. After that he took them one at a time again, until there was only one left.

This time it was Impulse’s book left, the cover emblazoned with a golden ‘i’. He took himself up one stair, then the next, then the next, then stopped. All of his strength seemed to leave him at once. He sat down on the stairs, the book sliding out of his hands. His heart pounded, and he was having trouble breathing. He wasn’t going to be able to take that book to the top. 

The thought scared him more than death. The idea that somebody might find Impulse’s book laying there and take it to mean something it didn’t, the idea that his death would hurt his friends more than it needed to, that was scarier than death. He’d made his peace with death, but not with the fact that the living would have to go on without him.

He’d- He’d messed it all up, hadn’t he?

“I’m- I'm an awful friend.” He whispered.

Pain took over his chest and he gasped, everything straightening up. Then his head lolled to the side, and Tango ceased to exist.

“Tango?” Someone called out from the entrance way. “Tango, I know I said I’d wait, but I- I couldn’t. The idea that I could be responsible for something bad happening to you…”

“Just, say something to let us know you’re alive, please?” Bdubs asked as he rounded the corner. 

Then his eyes fell upon Tango’s body, and he ran.

“Tango- No! No no no, Tango no! X, help him, please!”

“Bdubs-”

“Oh god, oh god I knew I shouldn’t have waited…”

“Bdubs-”

“X, there’s got to be something-”

“Bdubs, look at me.”

Bdubs tore his eyes from Tango’s body to see X’s helmetless face. He knew before X spoke.

“He’s gone.”

Bdubs’ legs gave out beneath him. He felt hollow, no, he felt like nothing. He was nothing. Something wouldn’t have let one of his best friends die. Above him, X was saying something.

“It’s not your fault. Bdubs, it’s not your fault-”

“Then whose fault is it!?!” He screamed.

X went silent as Bdubs slumped all the way to the floor.

“Whose fault is it…”

Chapter Text

Tango didn’t feel good. His chest ached, and everything felt off. He didn’t have the energy to move, let alone get up and start transporting the books. This was the day, wasn’t it? The last day. This was too soon. Too soon, yet he wasn’t upset. He’d known this would happen for months, been preparing for it since he knew. He’d made his peace with death.

He cracked his eyes open, staring at his curtains. He wished they weren’t there. He wanted to see the world outside, one last time. He hadn’t spent nearly enough time appreciating everything. He’d gotten so caught up in finishing his build and leaving his mark on this world that he hadn’t had time for anything else. 

He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die, but he had no say in the matter. There was no cure for his sickness, it had taken all of his family, and soon it would take him. But man had he made a mistake. Instead of enjoying the last bit of his life he spent all of his time working. So was the life, and death apparently, of a Tek. Working until they dropped, quite literally.

Tango couldn’t even remember the faces of most of his friends. Even Bdubs, who he had just seen the day before, his face was blurry and jumbled. But his voice, that remained clear. Bdubs’ voice, begging him to stay alive, it had remained in his mind since he’d spoken to the mossy man yesterday.

It made his chest ache, hearing Bdubs’ voice. He missed him. He wanted to talk with him, a normal conversation, not the panicked, torn one they had just had. No, a regular conversation, like they had before he knew he was getting sicker. He wanted one last normal day, but it was out of reach.

“Tango?” Bdubs shouted from the office, and Tango began to panic.

Why was he here now? Why? He had given him one more day, he wasn’t supposed to be here, he wasn’t supposed to see him like this-

“Tango, are you here?” Asked a different voice, one that Tango couldn’t identify.

He heard them make their way in and out of the office, then split up before someone opened the door. 

“X, he’s in here!” Bdubs shouted, and footsteps raced towards them.

Someone grabbed Tango’s wrist, but he couldn’t pull away. Why were they here, why were they touching him, they needed to let him go-

“Oh goddess.” Someone, probably X, whispered. 

“Yeah.”

“You said he was bad, but I didn’t- I wasn’t expecting this.”

“What- What should we do?”

“Is- Is he alive?”

“I… think so? Barely.”

“We’ll- We’ll get Stress. And Doc, and- anyone else with any medical background. And we’ll fight. We’ll fight it on the physical level first, and once he’s well we’ll work up from there.”

“Ok.”

“I’m going to call Stress.”

“Ok.” 

There was a beat of silence, then Bdubs spoke.

“Tango- Tango, if by some miracle you can hear me, you’re going to be ok.”

More silence. Then:

“Stress is on her way. She’ll be here in a few minutes.”

Even more total silence. There weren't even any sounds from outside, no birds or rain. Just silence.

He wanted to lift his head and look around. To check and see if that was actually Xisuma who had spoken, to see who was in his room, and if they were staring at him. But he couldn’t move anything. Every attempt to do anything, even something as small as twitching a finger, failed. It felt like both a second and an eternity passed as Stress worked her way out to them. Then the door opened. Nobody spoke as Stress took his pulse. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as someone removed his gloves.

“I wondered…” Stress whispered.

“What?” Bdubs said.

“W-skeletogenesis. It's a rare genetic condition where a person’s body begins to create the wither toxin, which then poisons the person’s body. It’s treatable.”

Probably-X and Bdubs both breathed sighs of relief, and Tango also would’ve gasped if he had been capable, though for a different reason. His entire family died from the wither disease. All of his family was dead, and the disease that killed them was treatable?

“We’ll start him on the antidote first, then once he’s more stable we’ll start on treatments to stop the production of the toxin.”

“Ok.”

The next while passed in a blur. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he was sure it had been at least a few days. He might have woken up a few times, but he wasn’t sure. Everything felt like a fuzzy haze that he was attempting to peer through in order to learn what was going on, but everything was too blurry for him to understand. But then one day the haze started to fade, and he found himself being able to understand a bit better.

There was a rhythmic beeping coming from beside him. It was a bit loud, but fortunately not painful. There was something soft draped over his legs, and one of his hands was resting on top of it. His hands felt a bit cold, but he didn’t really- Cold. His hands felt cold. He could feel the cold again. He could feel. 

What happened? How did he get here? The last thing he remembered was grinding materials for the library, then… nothing. Everything was blurry after that. Was he dead? Was the afterlife a slightly chilly room where he could feel that his hands were cold and hear beeping beside him? It was certainly an odd afterlife, but a comfortable one. He felt rested. He felt rested and alive. Oh how amazing it was to feel alive, even if he wasn’t.

“He’s looking better.” Someone spoke nearby. 

“He is. Thank the goddess Stress was able to identify what it was so quickly, I don’t know if he would’ve survived another day without treatment.” Someone else said.

He survived? He was alive? How? The sickness had a 100% mortality rate, how did he survive? One of his hands twitched nervously.

“Is he waking up?” The first person asked.

“Maybe. Stress said earlier she was going to take him off the drugs, his body’s well enough for him to wake up now.”

“That’s good. Do you think we’ll be able to talk to him soon?”

“Maybe. We’ll have to see how he’s feeling when he wakes up.”

He did wake up. He was awake, he could hear. It suddenly occurred to him that he never tried to open his eyes. He had been so consumed by the fact that he could hear and feel again that he never tried to open his eyes. Taking a second to try and prepare himself, he opened his eyes.

The ceiling was made up of white tiles, a few lights spotted around the room. He lowered his gaze, and found that X and Etho were standing at the foot of the bed he was in, both staring down at their comms.

“Bdubs is really losing it, isn’t he.” Etho said.

“I know. I’m usually not surprised by much anymore, but a giant elephant in the shopping district is not something I expected.”

There was silence, then:

“He’s doing better.” Etho said. “He was a wreck for the first few days, but now that Tango’s going to be ok… He’s doing better.”

“He messaged me about a week ago, telling me that Stress said Tango would be ready to wake up in a few days. He’s talking again. I’m… I’m so glad we got to Tango when we did. I don’t think Bdubs could’ve handled losing him. I don’t think any of us could.”

Tango shut his eyes again, guilt building up in his ribcage. He was alive. Everyone was alive, everything was ok. But he still felt horrible. Now that he knew it wasn’t a death sentence he felt ridiculous for hiding. He could’ve had so many good months if he’d just gone forward and said something about his illness. Instead he missed over half a year with his friends. 

But he was alive now. He was alive now, and he could make up for it. Because he was alive, and now all of his plans hinged on living. He opened his eyes again, and this time X and Etho were staring right at him.

“Tango.” X breathed, and within a second they both were at his side.

“Hey guys.” He rasped.

“You’re awake.” Etho said, eyes crinkling up above his mask.

“I’m awake.” Tango repeated. ‘I’m… alive.”

“Yeah. You’re alive.” X said.

“I’m sorry.” Tango started. “I should’ve come to you first when I learned I was sick. I just didn’t realise there was a treatment, I didn’t want to hurt you-”

“Tango…” X whispered through his helmet.

He laid a hand over Tango’s, and Tango fought the urge to snatch his hand away. He wasn’t going to rot X by touching him. He was ok. The warmth of X’s hand brought something even more strange to mind. X wasn’t in a suit. X wasn’t wearing a helmet either, he just had a piece of plastic tubing connected to what Tango guessed was an atomic redistributor. It felt odd to look at X without armor, but it was a welcome change.

“It’s good to see you, X.” Tango said. “And you, Etho. I’m-” He cleared his throat. “I’m happy you’re here.”

“We’re happy you’re here too.” X said.

“Just wait until I tell the others you’re awake.” Etho joked. “Then you won’t be, you’ll never be left alone again.”

Tango just repeated himself.

“I’m happy you’re here.”

He swore Etho’s eyes began to glimmer with tears before he spoke:

“I’m happy you’re here too.”