Chapter Text
There was the distant, unfamiliar sound of a subway train nearing the platform where he stood. The lights above him flickered on and off. He scoffed, slightly. This was an interesting development, to say the very least.
It rounded the bend, left the circular tunnel from whence it came, and slowly came to a standstill in front of him. The door of one carriage nearest to him opened with an electronic jingle to signal its arrival, and the man, for lack of anything better to do after thirteen and a half bloody years, boarded without a word. In contrast, however, that all-too-familiar voice from long ago echoed over the speakers; not a single living nor dead soul graced this train with its presence, for it appears that the focus of this story has reached the limbo between both.
“Welcome aboard, Wilbur,” the voice said. “It sure has been a while.” Throat cleared, the announcer then paused. The man named Wilbur took his seat in the empty carriage and the door to the train slid shut. His hands placed on his lap, he waited for that voice to continue, and it seemed once he’d settled down it was ready to do so. And it did. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m here, then. ‘Sure you’re wondering what’s going on, too. I’ve got a lot to tell you, President Soot.”
The former president did indeed ponder these prompts for a short moment, meaning in other words he was wondering why he was here, and he was wondering what was going on. Assuming that the man driving this train could hear him, he responded. “First of all, don’t call me that. Not anymore.” The announcer only laughed, a laugh bordering on sinister and something else that could almost be described as a tone that was nearing lighthearted. “Second of all, yes. You could say that I am. So, what are you waiting for? Get on with it, then.”
Before the announcer had a chance to explain, he chuckled, and Wilbur’s curiosity was piqued. “Seems someone else is joining you in your carriage, Wilbur!” he exclaimed over the speakers, then a shuffling was heard from one carriage over from his. Doors opened and closed and finally the disheveled ghost of his former dead self, in all senses of the way he described him, appeared alongside him. Looks like he was disembarking. “He has to go now, though. Anything to say to him?”
Wilbur smiled widely. It was almost as if that role he once claimed back in the Overworld, back on the SMP, was being returned to him, wasn’t it? So he too let out a bit of a laugh at the whole situation; it really did amuse him, it did. Ghostbur, whose tears were present yet did not fall, for they could not, appeared apprehensive.
“Good luck.”
And, as soon as his presence had been made, Ghostbur was promptly removed from the picture. The squeaking doors of the train carriage to the subway platform opened and shut behind him, his journey finishing here. The ghost’s greyed form then seemed to gradually dissipate as soon as he set foot on the concrete where Wilbur had once been for far too long. Gone but not forgotten, was the ghost, Wilbur was sure.
Thus, when all was said and done at this stop, the train began to move to its next. He imagined he’d be travelling surrounded by silence, with only his thoughts accompanying him, seeing as he was the only one aside from the announcer-conductor that he guessed was present too. But, he was mistaken: the voice of the announcer rang through the train as soon as it had rounded the second bend. “As I was saying,” he said, and Wilbur looked at the speaker near the ceiling which, unbeknown to him, doubled as a camera, too. A small red light flickered on and off in its bottom right hand corner. Must mean that it’s recording, though Wilbur didn’t know this, of course.
“There’s lots to discuss, and there’s lots to tell you as well, Wilbur Soot. Things have changed so much since you were last alive on my SMP. But, to give me some time to get ready, I’ll leave finding those out to you. It’d also just be much more fun to discover all that’s been lost and all that’s been won by yourself in person, wouldn’t it?”
The question was rhetorical. He continued on. “But, to explain what’s happening here, then. If you hadn’t already noticed, you’re no longer dead. You’re regaining your physical, human form every minute we grow nearer to our destination. Or rather, as you near your destination, I guess, since I won’t be there joining you,” he then explained. “I’m already there. But I’m here with you now on borrowed time.”
Wilbur milled over what he was being told and found it was surprisingly easy to take in. He nodded along. “Alright, I can deal with this,” he said. “In other words, you’re bringing me back. Reviving me. Saving me.” With these final words he could practically feel the grin of the other he was speaking to, just through the way he replied. “Yes! Yes. That’s just what I’m doing, Wilbur, and I’m having a great time doing it. Talking to you has been refreshing, a great deal different from what I’ve gotten used to over the past while. But that’s a story for another time, one I’ll be sure to explain in great detail once you’re alive, trust me.”
“Alright, then I will trust you. You know, I’ve really got to thank you, Dream,” Wilbur told him, closing his eyes as he spoke. “Never would I have expected that you’d be the one to bring me back. I’m surprised, honestly. However, it’s safe to say that this has altered my entire view of you as a person. And by that, I mean for the better. I appreciate this, Dream, I really do. If anything…” He paused, trailing off. The man could feel Dream, the announcer and conductor, not only of the train he was currently on, but of the whole operation, leaning on the edge of his seat, begging him to continue. He smiled at this.
“Yes?” Dream prompted.
“You’re my hero.”