Tommy realized he was awake before he opened his eyes. Bright light filtered in through his eyelids, and he squeezed them tighter, trying to recover the previous darkness. Tommy had been badly hurt before, but nothing compared to how much his body ached right now. With the amount of pain he was in, he was surprised he wasn't dead.

Wait.

He wasn't dead?

Or was he? Ghostbur had never said it was painful after the initial death. Still, Ghostbur also tended to forget everything bad, which, frankly, was kind of annoying.

Tommy remembered everything. He thinks. Would you know if you forgot something? Or everything? He definitely didn't forget everything. He still remembered Ghostbur. And Tubbo. And L'Manberg. And Dream.

At the thought of that name, he shuddered, sending a sharp wave of pain through his body. He definitely remembered Dream. And it was because of Dream that he was dead. If he's dead.

He thinks he's dead.

What does heaven look like? If he's in heaven. Could he be a ghost? But finding out meant opening his eyes. And he didn't really want to do that.

Still, Tommy forced his eyes open. He winced as the light nearly blinded him, sending spots dancing in front of his eyes. When his vision cleared, he saw sea lanterns above him.

Oh, so that's why it's so bright.

Tommy didn't know anyone who had sea lanterns like this on the Dream SMP. Could he be at a secret base? A prison? Oh, please, not a prison.

Tommy tried to lift his head to look around more and instantly regretted it. Why did everything have to be so painful?

Then Tommy heard footsteps. He instantly squeezed his eyes shut again, trying to act asleep. Tommy didn't know who it was, and he didn't want them to know he was awake. He had come to the conclusion that he was, in fact, alive, and he wanted to keep it that way.

"You're awake? Oh my gosh, he's awake. STRESS, HE'S AWAKE!"

Tommy tried to hide his flinch as he heard the voice. It was a man with a British accent, but it was definitely no one he knew.

He heard another set of footsteps, this time running.

"I leave for one minute..."

This time it was a female, also British, and also unfamiliar.

"Hey, how are you doing?" The lady asked gently. He was pretty sure she was standing next to him. Oh, great.

Tommy didn't answer.

"We know you're awake," the man chimed in after a moment of silence. "It's kind of obvious."

Was he that bad of an actor? Tommy knew his game was up and opened his eyes, blinking in the brightness.

"He can hear!" The lady joked, clearly thinking she was hilarious. Tommy thought otherwise.

At least now he could see his potential enemies. The woman was of average height, with brown hair and eyes. She was wearing jean shorts and a pink jacket over a white shirt. He could probably take her in a fight if necessary.

On the other hand, standing next to her was an insanely tall man. He had black hair and a moustache. He was wearing a suit and tie, which struck Tommy as a bit odd given the setting.

Speaking of the setting, Tommy was in a sparsely decorated room with a couple of cabinets lining the walls. An open door looked out into a hallway. No bars. Or guards. Or weapons. Unless the room had more to it than he saw, it didn't look like he was trapped. In fact, he could probably run out the door right now!

Tommy made a move to get up and dart, but immediately yelped as the pain flared up again.

The adults rushed forward, pushing him back into the bed.

"Woah, careful," The woman shouted, "You're going to hurt yourself!"

Tommy struggled for a moment before succumbing to the pain and laying back down with a sigh. The woman quickly looked over him, which made Tommy nervous, but he was in no mood to resist. Things were not going well.

After the woman finished, the man sat down in a chair near Tommy's bed. "Okay, now that that's over, what's your name?"

"Mumbo," the lady warned the man, "He still needs to rest."

"I just want to know his name!" The man, Mumbo, Tommy guessed, whined.

The woman sighed, running her hand down her face. Tommy noticed her glancing at him every few seconds, like he was prey she didn't want to escape. Maybe his first impression about her not being a good opponent was wrong; she looked too clever for his liking.

Mumbo must have taken her sigh as permission to continue, and asked again:

"What's your name?"

Tommy wanted to stay silent, but what would happen if he didn't tell them? These people could be psychopaths! He needed to play along, make them trust him. Then he could find a way out of this place.

He could do this. He had to play along.

So, he muttered, underneath his breath.

"Tommy."