In the arctic, another Wilbur checks his comms. 

On the one hand, it could be a prank. It's the sort of thing people would do.

On the other hand, _V63 is the suffix Q has. It could be him. Doesn't he want to make a good first impression?

On the third, most compelling hand, he doesn't want to move or do anything that isn't staring at the wall, and it's basically impossible for him to make a good first impression anyway, and one of him was already quite enough, thank you very much, and--wait--if Q's Wilbur is here, then Q won't need him anymore, he's just the copy, the extra--

That thought is enough to leverage him to his feet, even if he doesn't know what to do with it. Paradise is closer to spawn than the arctic; if he aims for spawn then Q will beat him, and if he aims for Paradise Q will probably already be at spawn by the time he gets there. Fuck. Fuck! 

He has to try. (Try what? What are his goals here? What can he do about any of this? He's already on the train tracks. Everything is moving too quickly. He can go to spawn, and--and what's he going to do about it? Kill his double? Ha. He can go to Paradise, and talk to Q, and--and what? Convince him to stay away? Escort him politely to Wilbur's doom?)

He sits back down, heavy, on the bed. Wants to scream. Doesn't. Takes a deep breath. Stares at the wall. If he doesn't leave this room, he can pretend that nothing changed, that nothing will change. He hates himself, for the cowardice of that, and it's almost unbearable, but everything else sounds worse. He's used to hating himself, by now. He stares at the wall and breathes and hates himself and tries to pretend that nothing has changed, that nothing's crumbling down around him.

In the fake desert on top of a tundra, Quackity checks his comms.

Wilbur got other-Quackity, for--well, a lot of reasons, but a big one was Quackity screwing up his first impression. (Not his fault that Foolish--not the point. The point is he's got another chance.) Wilbur's not at Paradise right now, which means he's probably in the arctic, which means Quackity can get to other-Wilbur first. Only fair. He starts walking. Not running. He's calm, he's got this.

Meanwhile: Wilbur is in a forest. Sort of. There are chaotic half-built structures scattered around, and walls, and a small fire. It's phenomenally ugly. Wilbur can get out of the walls if he tries, but he'll probably have to do a bit of climbing.

In a set of buildings that pretends to be a neighborhood that claims to be a country, all of which look like mushrooms, the other Quackity checks his comms too. 

Quackity_V68 whispers to WilburSoot_V63: hi!!!!

He can do a bit of climbing. Mostly. He's not, like, good at it, but he can get out of the walls. He can probably even do it before anyone else reaches him. His comms buzz, once, but he's not looking at them. 

The first one to get there is Quackity. He doesn't look quite like the Quackity that Wilbur is used to seeing: he's wearing a white button-up with a red neckerchief, suspenders holding up slacks, and nice-if-scuffed leather shoes; he's a bit older, a bit less thin; he's not wearing any makeup; and he has a long, ugly scar, going from beneath his lip to his left eyebrow, his left eye milky at its pupil.

He blinks a couple times at Wilbur's scars, taking the other man in, and then he relaxes into himself and smiles--a salesman's smile, but not without genuine affection.

"Hello, Wilbur! Pleasure seeing you here. I know you're probably confused right now, how's this, we can go for a walk and I can tell you what I know? It's not very much, apologies in advance."

Much like the other Quackity, this other Wilbur is a couple years younger than the one Quackity is familiar with. He's clearly not the Wilbur from Pogtopia, though— there's the scar, and a white streak in his hair where the scar hits his hairline, but also he looks like he regularly eats meals and lives in an apartment with a shower rather than in a ravine. 

"I am definitely that," he agrees, affable but distant to match the salesman's smile. This can't possibly be his Quackity, can it, they saw each other two days ago, but who else could it possibly be—? 

Then they can walk down the Prime Path. No particular destination in mind, just something to do. "About--a month, month and a half ago, a fellow appeared here by the name of Quackity. He looked--kind of like me, but also not like me, a bit younger, didn't have the scar, face full of makeup." Gestures to his face. "Not in a, a this is my backstory way, this wasn't me. It was someone else, with a different history, not, not from here like I am. Just like you aren't the Wilbur I know from here. Like I said, I don't know very much. I don't know how or why any of this has happened. But if I had to guess I'd guess you're, you're like him. Whatever happened with him, that's what happened with you."

Himself, and Quackity. Immediately he wonders who else has a version here. If he can get in contact with Techno again, if he needs to worry about S or Snow or the head of Victor fucking Affairs or— 

He wonders if the same thing happened to this Quackity's eye. 

"I suppose that's as plausible a theory as we'll have," he says, instead of that. "You're from around here, then, you know the place?" You know the local Wilbur?  

"Mm, I'd say so. I know it enough. I've lived here for--a bit less than a year now, which is more when you keep in mind it was only really founded a few months before that, and I've been--near the center of a lot of things. There's a few people who know it better than me, but I'd say--I'd say I know the place. Why? Got any questions about it? Tell you what, I'll answer best I can."

Then here, whatever here is, was founded a year ago— and this Quackity is a few years older than his own— but, he reminds himself, with a different backstory. Different histories. This isn't the future of his Quackity, he's something different, something sideways from that. You can't infer how the project is going to go from him. You can't. You can try to feel out the edges, and you can see if there's a Technoblade to get in touch with, and that's it. 

"I suppose to start, what was it, exactly, that was founded a year ago? What do you mean by center of a lot of things?" 

"This" --Quackity spreads his arms out-- "is the Dream SMP. All this land, this place, that's what it's called. Founded by Dream, of course. That's what was founded over a year ago. Other things got founded since then, but to be honest, a lot of them have been destroyed, and they were all--part of this server, part of this server's history. I was--heh--a lot of stuff has happened here, Wilbur. A lot of it because of you. Your double. That, that's what I was in the center of. Gogy, he may have been here first, but he slept through our history." He's walking with a destination in mind, now: the crater. Lots of things are more dramatic to talk about with the crater right there as illustration, and Wilbur's got even more of an appreciation for the dramatic than he does. At least the Wilbur Quackity knows does. It's a safe bet that this one will be the same. "Back in L'Manberg--the country you made--I ran against you in the elections, I was Vice President, and then after you died I was in Tubbo's cabinet. --Excuse me, I know it wasn't you, I mean--the Wilbur I know. I fought against Dream, against Technoblade. When the Egg started spreading--long story--I helped lead the resistance at the banquet. And now I've got my own country. Let's just say it's been a busy year."

Well, that is a lot of information he has no idea what the fuck to do with. 

He's taking inventory as they walk, putting pieces— putting people— together in his head. Dream founded the place, Dream who loves his handler team more than some people love their mother, can't trust whatever he remembers there; there's a George around and as disinterested as ever, not a surprise. This other Wilbur founded his own country— he should ask someone later how and when and where and what's happened to it, what's going on with Techno, what's going on with Phil, why he'd have been in charge of the operation there. Quackity ran against him in the elections, was maybe his vice president— reassuring, really, that the elections went well; Quackity doesn't say it like it's the sort of thing that would be dangerous. He doesn't say it like there was anything at all strange about either of them running. What does that mean, for this place, he wonders? Was Quackity his vice president or someone else's, he isn't sure that Quackity would be his first pick for a right hand but it isn't as if other ideas exactly spring to mind, really the strange thing is that either of them ran at all— and then Tubbo's, but maybe this Tubbo is older, certainly him picking Quackity makes more sense— this Wilbur is, apparently, dead now, which is some number of things which Wilbur is not examining right now— Quackity fought against Dream, fair enough though he's curious how, and Technoblade, which he really can't imagine but presumably there was context, unfortunate how there's really not a delicate way to ask. Whatever the resistance might mean it must have been successful, or Quackity wouldn't be admitting to running it; he'll have to ask what the Egg might be or mean. 

"Fascinating," he says, and means it more than he could say. "You've got your own country? That must be quite the undertaking." 

Quackity tries not to preen too visibly at the compliment. He's cool. He smiles but shrugs, tries to play it nonchalant. "It's, you know, it definitely can be." They've reached the crater; he steps out onto the bridge, just a little bit, turns around. "You see this crater? This is what used to be L'Manberg."

(It is a fairly impressive crater, as craters go, but it is definitely not country-sized. It is, like, small town sized at most.)

...huh. He wasn't imagining that whatever country he had set up and Quackity had helped run in the land Dream founded was the size of Panem, of course, that would be ridiculous, but he was imagining something more like a large town, or possibly a small district. This crater doesn't look like it's even the size of District Twelve, even if you only care about the town at the district's center and don't count the mines. 

It is certainly an impressive crater, as craters go. He can't say he doesn't appreciate the dramatic flourish. "What happened to it?" he asks, this being the question Quackity is obviously fishing to be asked. 

"Wilbur happened. We rebuilt. Then Techno and Dream and Phil happened. --I guess Techno also helped Wilbur the first time, but that wasn't--" He shakes his head. It's weird, to be talking about Wilbur, with Wilbur looking at him. "You can still see a couple things in the ruins--part of the apiary survived, somehow--but most of it, most of it's gone. Past the point of no return."

Part of him, immediately, thinks, oh, well that's alright then. Which is sort of true and also sort of not. If he and Techno and Phil all thought it needed destroying then they were probably right; for all the things he's ever held against Philza, that isn't one of them. But how did it get that bad, that fast? How badly must the rebuilding have gone, if they had to destroy it a second time? 

He needs to find Techno. He needs to find his own Quackity, who is apparently here, has been here for a month, and loop him in on some of Wilbur's plans, and explain them, maybe, so things don't have to go this disastrously wrong. He needs more information. 

"What was it like? Before— before Wilbur happened, and before—" He gestures, expansively, toward the crater. 

"...I wasn't there for it at the start. I, uh, before Wilbur happened, I was--" Did they have a Schlatt? Yes, they did, because on the first day Q dropped Schlatt's Jacket. "When Wilbur ran the place, it seemed mostly pretty nice, except for the walls--there were walls, all the way around it, to, to keep people out--and you and Tommy didn't let me join 'cause, 'cause I was Mexican. I wanted to change it, that's why I ran, I didn't want to destroy it. But then Schlatt won and--I was his vice president, you know, I tried to keep a handle on things--first thing we did was we took down the walls, and, you know, I stand by that--but he, uh--he didn't really like listening to me. So after a while of trying I left, I joined Wilbur in exile, we fought against Schlatt, we won it back. And then, Tubbo had just finished his acceptance speech and--" Half-turn towards the crater, gesture with one arm towards it. "--Wilbur took it all down with him. If I can't have it, no one can, that's what he said."

...he fucking what. 

Everything after but then Schlatt won, and I was his vice president sort of tunnels. Not that he doesn't hear it, but that it all goes on the back burner. He can find out the appropriate way to feel about those other things later; he knows that shuttered-off look. And if there is one thing Wilbur knows about Quackity, it's that he has always, always pretended Schlatt was better than he was. He didn't really like listening to me is probably true but if that's as bad as it was Wilbur will eat a shoe, and in the meantime he would like to dig up his alternate universe self to kill him again. 

"I'm so sorry." 

Quackity shrugs. "The way I think about it, it had to happen, to get me to who I am now, you know? Can't just get rid of the bad stuff and still have me be the same person. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm still mad about some of it, I don't forgive them. But I can either sit around feeling sorry about it or I can move forward."

Where has Wilbur heard that one before? Trick question, he knows exactly where he's heard that one before. At least this Quackity is willing to admit to being mad about it. 

Maybe that comes with time. Or maybe it doesn't. Product of different circumstances, he reminds himself, halfheartedly; it doesn't work very well. 

"I suppose that's a way to look at it," he says, looking again out at the crater, this being the most enthusiasm he can muster in response. "—and you went from that to having a country of your own?" 

"Yeah. I mean, it's--I could give up, roll over, let Techno and Dream tell me what to do, 'cause they think they're so strong. Fuck that. Or I could try to build back up, get more powerful, on my own terms. Stop being people's vice president. And, hey, Dream's in prison, Las Nevadas isn't a fucking crater. So I'd say it's worked out pretty well for me so far."

File that under statements that tell you quite a lot, but not the way the speaker thinks they do. 

"No, yeah, of course, I just mean— that's really cool. Good for you, man." 

Damn it, Quackity, you are not falling for this. You've fallen for Wilbur Soot and his nice voice and his compliments before and you are not doing it again. You are the President of Las Nevadas and this is just--a random new member who you're maybe sort of trying to recruit.

Still, it's nice to hear.

"Thanks. Tell you what, Wilbur, how about I show you around? Around Las Nevadas, I mean."

"I would like that." He smiles— not the photoshoot smile, but the one he reserves for not-quite-candids. "Lead the way?" 

And Quackity will lead the way! Back towards where they came from--Las Nevadas is actually closer to spawn than L'Manberg is, but it's in the opposite direction. They pass a large castle-like outpost with the image of a duck at the top of it, which has a convenient bridge connecting to the other coast, and then, on the other coast: Las Nevadas.

There's a toll booth, but it's not manned; they breeze past it. They pass by the fountains to enter a smaller red and white building.

"We've got--we've got a restaurant over here. Name pending, it should be hiring and opening soon, you can see inside--" Inside seems nice. Very white. "Wilbur--the other Wilbur, my Wilbur, we really need to give you guys distinguishing nicknames--is, uh, trying to compete with it. You'll probably see that later, it's, uh, not as nice as ours."

Inside does seem nice. Very white indeed. It's a pretty place in general, very intentionally designed, everything very coordinated; Quackity clearly had very specific aesthetic direction for it. It is also not even the size of a Capitol city block, and entirely silent except the fountains and the two of them. 

"Wait, the other Wilbur is—" alive— "around?" 

"...Yeah. Dream revived him, uh, about three months ago?" Quackity paces once, a neat circle, unsure what else to say, making sure to keep Wilbur on the side of his good eye just in case, and then leaves the restaurant. "And now he's, you know, around again. Causing problems. You might see Tommy or Ranboo around here sometimes, they're with him." Or the other Quackity. 

Reviving people being a thing people can, apparently... do. Something Dream can, apparently, do. Why can Dream do that. Can anyone else do that.

All of those questions can go on the back burner for later, or for when he's found someone lower-stakes to probe shamelessly for answers, or both. (It hasn't escaped him that he's being kept carefully to Quackity's right.) 

"Got it. Uh, Ranboo and Tommy being..." 

Wait, no, he remembers the name Tommy. Tubbo's friend. His Quackity's mentioned him and he was in the top-eight interviews for the 70th. He doesn't know much about the kid but he could probably pick him out of a lineup if it came down to it. Ah, well, he's already asked. 

That earns him a shocked look before Quackity schools it back to normal. Well, okay, Wilbur not knowing Ranboo isn't that surprising, but--it's still weird to be reminded that Wilbur is not, actually, the Wilbur he knows.

"...My Wilbur, Tommy's his-- best friend? Little brother? Sidekick? I don't know what they've got going on but they've been attached at the hip for longer than I've known either of them. Uh, annoying blonde teenager. Almost as tall as you and about as British. We've got a bit of history, I'd say, but less than he has with Wilbur. Also attached to Tubbo, if you know Tubbo. Uh, Ranboo's--about eight feet tall, half-enderman, black-and-white color scheme, can't miss him."

That's— weird. It's weird to imagine himself surrounded by different people, weird to imagine himself attached at the hip with someone he in fact hardly knows. And dear fucking god is it weird to imagine himself with a little brother, or a best friend, or a sidekick, or— any of those things.

At least it seems to be weird for Quackity too. As little as he can imagine caring that much about the kid his Quackity's tribute volunteered for, it's even harder to imagine himself not knowing Techno, so— it tracks, maybe. 

"I am familiar with Tubbo. I am not familiar with enderman or british but eight feet tall does sound hard to miss." 

"British, like, you know--your accent?"

"No, my accent's Capitol." And this is an entirely neutral fact about him which surely nobody involved cares about in any way. Trust. 

Shrug. "Sure, whatever, man. Here we call it a British accent. Or English. Sometimes posh if I'm making fun of you." (He says 'posh' in a slightly higher-pitched overexaggerated accent.)

"Well, Kwackiteeee—" and here his voice, too, goes higher-pitched— "it'd be terrible if you did that. Can't imagine how I'd abide it." 

!!!!!!!

"Wilba! Wilba Suit!"

!!!!!!!! yourself! 

"Kwackiteeeeeeeeee—" extended to the point of being annoying. Except, whoops, he can't extend it that long, because he also can't stop giggling about it.

Quackity is not immune. He too dissolves into giggles. When he recovers: "Good to know that some things are universal, huh." He's still smiling. It's not his salesman's smile, not even a little bit.

"Apparently so." It's a good smile. Sometimes you can really see how a million people fell in love with Quackity. 

(And sometimes, Quackity gets what his other self is doing and why. It doesn't make him hate him any less.)

He keeps walking. Reminds himself of this week's lesson. Create no emotional attachments. He has to be a good example for Slime, if nothing else. 

"Next is the, uh, the chapel!" It's a little outdoors bridge, not much of anything. "If you have a significant other, you can--" He notices the ring on Wilbur's finger, curses himself. "--Oh, I didn't notice, you're already married! Must be a lucky--lady? Gentleman? Fish?" It's not him; the other Quackity, for all his faults, isn't wearing a ring. (Quackity is. Two of them. He tries not to think about it, which is hard, when he's in the chapel that he built for the three of them, talking to Wilbur about marriage.) "Well, hey, if you ever get divorced, you know where to find it. No judgement in Las Nevadas."

The salesman smile is back.

"It's true, I'm very lucky," he says. Which isn't really what Quackity said but maybe if Wilbur's emphatic enough Quackity will miss that he didn't quite agree to what it sounded like he did. "If, uh, if it ever comes up, I do indeed know where to go. It's lovely." Smile. 

"Thank you." Luckily for Wilbur, Quackity is busy with suddenly wanting to go anywhere else and talk about anything else. They can keep walking. The next thing that comes up is the strip club; Quackity waves towards the walls, which loudly advertise THESE VERY HOT SEXY SUPERMODELS WANT TO MEET YOU. "Don't listen to the billboards, it's usually pretty quiet. Sometimes Sam or--someone else--will play around." Wilbur can have a wink on 'someone else', because it is true--after Sam and whoever Sam happens to be with that day, he's probably the one who uses the strip club the most. Not a good idea to be winking at Wilbur about, but hey, Las Nevadas isn't about good ideas. ...It occurs to him again that Wilbur's married. Oh well, it's not like Wilbur ever stopped flirting when Quackity was in a relationship.

If Wilbur is thinking about his spouse he sure isn't showing it!

He looks at Quackity, then at the walls, then at Quackity again, and says "So I should be listening to the billboards, is what I'm hearing." He winks back for good measure. Just in case he was too subtle. 

Quackity laughs. Good to know he didn't misread Wilbur on that. "That's Las Nevadas for you, baby. Come by after dark sometime, maybe I'll give you a different sort of tour."

"Never let it be said you are not a generous host." 

"You flatter me!" Having opened the doors to show a dimly lit and empty room with a bar and a couple stripper poles, they can go to the second-to-last stop in the tour: the space needle. There's a lot of tables at the bottom, set with flowers.

There's an elevator up to the top; at the top, there's a few smaller tables and a nice view.

"Come inside, come check it out! It's nice up here." He leans against the railing, causal. Keeps a very careful eye on Wilbur, on how close Wilbur gets to the edge, on whether it looks like he's considering jumping.

Wilbur isn't thinking about jumping at all. He's too busy standing a few feet from the railing, staring out at the sky with the open hunger of a man who hasn't seen a horizon in almost a decade. 

"...you must get some gorgeous sunrises from here," is what he manages to say about it. 

Hey, that works for Quackity.

"We do, we do. Sunsets, too. How's this, you can come up whenever you want, just give me a buzz first so you don't surprise me while I'm already up here, yeah?"

"That's— very kind. Thank you." 

"Any time, man." It's strategic, he tells himself. He is trying to get this Wilbur on his side before his Wilbur can. Offering things, being friendly, being kind--it's the smart thing to do. And that's all it can ever be. He has to remember that. It can feel nice, as long as he doesn't let that distract him from the point.

They can stay and watch the sky for as long as Wilbur wants. Quackity pulls out his lighter and cigarettes, offers one to Wilbur.

"Hm? No, thanks, I'm good." 

(There was a period in his life when he would have loved to have taken up smoking. It's just that this coincided nearly perfectly with the period during which he was absolutely not allowed to do anything that would damage his voice, and by the time he could probably have gotten away with it he had grown up; cigarettes no longer had that teenage bad-boy shine, and instead mostly just smelled bad.) 

If they're really staying as long as he wants, that might be kind of a while. 

That’s fine; Quackity doesn’t really have anything better to do. 

“You can join Las Nevadas, if you want. We’d love to have you, and I don’t think you have another place to stay yet. Consider this your formal invitation.” He says it casually, as though he hasn’t been leading up to it this whole time. It’s sort of true; on the one hand, if Wilbur is anything like the Wilbur he knows, he’s a dangerous liability. But on the other hand, having this Wilbur here would make the Wilbur he knows so mad that it’d be worth the risk twice over. Get him back for what he pulled with other Quackity. 

"I— indeed do not. I would be very grateful. Thank you, Quackity." 

Score. “You’re welcome. Like I said, glad to have you.”

Wilbur beams. It's only even a little bit a performance. "I suppose I should find out where exactly I'll be staying. And, ah, stop keeping you up here, I'm not sure how long it's been—" 

"No worries, man. I don't know if Foolish or Sam made any actual rooms in the hotel yet, but for the short-term there's definitely beds around, and it's not like we're lacking in empty rooms. If there aren't any hotel rooms I'll let them know to get working on that. I think Purpled and Fundy made their own little areas to stay, you can also do that if you want."

Is that a single-person sort of project? He'll have to ask his own Quackity about it—

"—wait, you said Fundy?" Fundy's here? He's alive? 

...Right, yes, that's a sensitive subject. Well, he can't unsay it. "...Yes."

Fucking hell— okay, no, he's being normal about that. Wilbur's time in the mentor's ring left no lasting marks and he has no particular emotions about the outcome of the 67th because he is, despite his quirky tragic backstory, fundamentally a normal capitolite who takes this shit as seriously as they all take it, which is to say not at all. "Right. Okay, cool, thank you for the head's up. I— might do that at some point, not sure if it's a today sort of plan." 

"Makes sense, makes sense." Back down the elevator. "The casino's not finished yet but we've got--let me show you something." They walk up to a wall; Quackity mines a staircase straight through it, into a white room with five lights (four on top of plain red concrete, one on top of a diamond block). There's also a metal box of some sort and a button. "It's just a sample, like I said, we don't have the whole thing up and running yet, but as a sample--" He throws Wilbur a diamond. "Put it in here" (pointing at the metal box) "and click the button."

He does. "You know, back home we call these one-armed bandits?" 

"You a gambler? Or just familiar?" The machine lights up and beeps as it goes between the options; it eventually ends on the diamond block, and three diamonds pop out of the floor. Quackity exclaims and claps. "Lucky! You know, it was just a demonstration, but I say you can keep that. Consider it a gift."

"I am not, but I did a stint encouraging gambling in others." Diamonds get swept into his inventory. "Wasn't as good at it as Quackity was, though." 

Friendly laugh. "Good to know! Didn't realize we had that in common." They can leave, if Wilbur doesn't want to keep going. Quackity puts the quartz wall back behind them. "That's most of what we have complete. There's the Eiffel Tower," (point) "but there isn't much to see there, nothing at the top or anything, it's mostly a decoration. Foolish has a couple projects he's working on. Sam's doing the hotel and the rest of the casino." In theory. In practice, Sam's projects have been--slow-going. Well, it's still way more than Quackity could have made in the same amount of time. No complaints. 

"It's all beautiful, I'll be excited to see it when it's done. Foolish has a construction company here?" 

"Not really a company, but yeah, something like that."

"Fair enough." ...is this a good opening to ask? It's as good as one as he's likely to get, probably. "Do you know what— the other Quackity, my Quackity— has been up to?" 

Quackity's body language closes off a little at that, gets more guarded, more unhappy. Not a lot, but Wilbur's good at reading him.

"He's with the, uh--the other Wilbur. My Wilbur. They've got a little spot across the river, he's there--not all the time but probably about as often as Tommy or Ranboo."

Oh there is something wildly unpleasant about that thought. 

There is something wildly unpleasant about that thought, and Wilbur is not dealing with that right now. Instead he's watching Quackity— unhappy because Wilbur's Quackity was mentioned, because the other Wilbur was, because he's with the other Wilbur, because they're allegedly competing with this Quackity, for some other reason...? 

At least he's nearby. 

"Right, noted." 

Quackity's communicator buzzes; he glances to check it, frowns a little, puts it back away. "Foolish wants my opinion on something, I should probably go check on that--I'll ask about making sure you have a room in the hotel too, if not tonight then soon. I'll be back?"

"I can hang out around here. See you soon." 

He finally checks his own comms, now, and sees: 

Quackity_V68 whispers to WilburSoot_V63: hi!!!!

Quackity_V68 whispers to WilburSoot_V63: you okay? I can come find you + explain stuff if you need

Quackity_V68 whispers to WilburSoot_V63: ?

WilburSoot_V63 whispers to Quackity_V68: Apologies, wasn't looking at my comms.

WilburSoot_V63 whispers to Quackity_V68: Hello how are you! I'm informed you've been here a month?

Quackity_V68 whispers to WilburSoot_V63: weirdest month and a half of my LIFE

Quackity_V68 whispers to WilburSoot_V63: also probably one of the best. being off camera is fucking awesome wil you're going to love it here

Quackity_V68 whispers to WilburSoot_V63: I'm glad you're here I missed you

WilburSoot_V63 whispers to Quackity_V68: <3

WilburSoot_V63 whispers to Quackity_V68: from my perspective I saw you two days ago so there has not been much time for missing yet

WilburSoot_V63 whispers to Quackity_V68: what have you been up to?

Quackity_V68 whispers to WilburSoot_V63: Im extremely hurt and offended you haven't been pining at the window for the last 48 hours

Quackity_V68 whispers to WilburSoot_V63: I'm in kinoko - local sapnap's place, very mushroom themed and pretty and quiet

Quackity_V68 whispers to WilburSoot_V63: befriended the local wilbur but don't worry you're still my favorite 

WilburSoot_V63 whispers to Quackity_V68: I was not worried about it. 

It's not... all the way a lie. It's certainly not the biggest or most important lie he's ever told Quackity. 

WilburSoot_V63 whispers to Quackity_V68: I am tentatively staying in Las Nevadas I think.

WilburSoot_V63 whispers to Quackity_V68: but don't worry you're still my favorite

Quackity_V68 whispers to WilburSoot_V63: oh cool

Quackity_V68 whispers to WilburSoot_V63: did he not threaten you with an axe, my first day he threatened me with an axe

WilburSoot_V63 whispers to Quackity_V68: He did not, he was very helpful to me.

The key phrase, of course, being to me. He's not sure what exactly the difference is. Quackity had lightly implied it was just the difference in time, that he hadn't known what was going on the first time and now did; on the other hand Wilbur isn't sure to what extent he meant to imply that, let alone whether it was true. 

The key phrase, of course, being to me. 

He types, and deletes, three or four variants on it's worse than that, talk to me not over text, and deletes them all. Some conversations you really, really don't want written records of, even the written record that you didn't want a written record. 

Quackity_V68 whispers to WilburSoot_V63: glad to hear it

Quackity_V68 whispers to WilburSoot_V63: I still have your headphones actually I should give those back

WilburSoot_V63 whispers to Quackity_V68: I suppose I'll have to come visit you in Kinoko, then.

WilburSoot_V63 whispers to Quackity_V68: unless we see each other when you're near here? 

Quackity_V68 whispers to WilburSoot_V63: we might but our alternates have some sort of weirdass rivalry thing going and will 100% be fucking weird about you being my actual fucking friend

Is this true, yes, is it the whole reason he doesn't want to have this conversation where Quackity will see it, no, can Wilbur please indicate that he is picking up what Q is putting down here—

Entirely understandable; Wilbur wouldn't want to be sincere or vulnerable in front of his alternate or where his alternate might happen across them either. 

WilburSoot_V63 whispers to Quackity_V68: Why, Quackity, I would love to be an obnoxious troll with you <333

AUGH. 

...well, better than nothing, he also would prefer their usual routine to maybe being vulnerable in Las Nevadas. 

Quackity_V68 whispers to WilburSoot_V63: xoxoxo looking forward to iiiiiiiiiiiiit 

Whatever happens, he reminds himself, will happen. At least Wilbur's here. 

Q really has missed him. 

In the meantime: 

Quackity_V68 whispers to WilburSoot: are you still in the arctic?

Sigh. He should probably answer and not just ignore Q forever. Even if he wants to, because otherwise he'll have to deal with his own imminent replacement.

WilburSoot whispers to Quackity_V68: yes

Then Q will, once again, show up at Phil's house. Somewhere in his head he makes a note to himself that if he keeps doing this he should start making something to bring with him, at least if he's trying to do 'polite friend of your son', which he is. 

"Hey," he says to Wilbur. 

"You're here."

"...yes, I am." Does sitting down on the bed next to Wilbur have immediately disastrous results? 

It doesn't have any results at all. Wilbur blinks.

After a few moments of pause: "How's your Wilbur doing?"

He doesn't quite manage to not sound bitter about it.

"We are gonna have to get you guys nicknames, using the possessive is weird when you're both actually here. —He's doing fine. How are you doing?" 

"I'm alive." He's not sure what's come over him. A week ago, it would have been a whoop: Everything's great! I'm ALIVE! How can anything be bad, I'm alive I'm alive I'm ALIVE--

--But right now it just feels like well, it beats the train station.

It's not just everything with the--other him. It sucks, but--he can imagine himself a week ago dealing with that, too, running around the server, yelling and coming up with plans. He would have talked to the other Wilbur by now, and both Quackities. Wouldn't have hid himself in his room staring at the wall. He'll feel that way again, he knows he'll feel that way again, he always does, it's just--hard to believe.

"Don't worry about me, Q, I'll be back to normal in a couple days. I won't die if you replace me, if that's what you're checking. Got kind of permanently turned off of the whole dying business. World's stuck with me now."

He thinks, is there something I can say that would get you two to not both decide you've been replaced. He thinks, great, glad to hear it, did you know I wasn't worried about that until you brought it up but I sure fucking am now. He thinks, thank you for at least saying outright that you think I'm replacing you instead of just being weird and passive aggressive about it, you get the point this time. He thinks, fun fact, he and I still haven't actually seen each other, I tried to say hello and it took him almost an hour to respond because he was busy talking to Quackity, and he may or may not think it's a skill issue that Quackity hates me and keeps threatening me, so have you considered that maybe I'm the one who got fucking replaced. 

He doesn't say any of those things but especially that last one, because they're all stupid and unhelpful but that last one takes the stupid grand prize. 

"...well, that's good and I'm glad to hear it, but that's not why I'm here and I don't plan on replacing you." 

"Oh." Wilbur contemplates this. "Why are you here, then?"

"Look, if you don't want me to be I can go, I won't die either." 

"That's not what I said." His fingers find the edge of Quackity's shirt, hold onto it tightly.

With some difficulty: "I want you to stay. Please don't leave."

There's something warm and ugly and pathetic that makes a pleased noise in Quackity's head about being asked. It's nice, and also he hates that it exists. 

He takes Wilbur's hand, the one that isn't in his shirt, and laces their fingers together. "...Course. I'll stay as long as you do." 

Half-laugh. "Gonna be honest, Q, I doubt I'll be leaving for a while."

"I meant you, not this room." 

He looks away from the wall and right at Q, into Q's eyes, for the first time since Q entered the room. His eyes are big and shiny, full of wonder and adoration. I love you, he doesn't say.

"Oh."

Somewhere inside his chest the ugly pathetic glowing thing curls up and purrs; it's warm and nice and awful and he wants to starve it until it shuts the fuck up and he wants it to never stop. 

Out in the real world, he squeezes Wilbur's hand. "I said you were my friend, didn't I?"

"...Yeah. But that's--I'm not your Wilbur, I'm--the closest you had? I guess I just thought--I mean, that's great, I, I appreciate it, I just--wasn't expecting it, now that you've got the real deal. Guess I was wrong." He smiles, a little, tentatively.

"I mean— I'm not your Quackity, either, am I? But I'm not— or, I mean, I hope I'm not just the closest you had? I didn't think I was, anyway." 

It's pathetic, it's fishing so obviously, can he for five goddamn minutes stop fucking whining— 

"I mean-- they're, um, very different, I don't think my Quackity likes me, if I said half of this to him he'd laugh in my face. There are--things I appreciate about him, don't get me wrong, I enjoy his company very much--and it goes both ways, you know, like, if I blew up your restaurant you'd probably go 'hey what the fuck I thought we were cool'--but, correct me if I'm wrong here, I was under the impression that your relationship with your Wilbur was, um, more ... traditionally positive, than all that?"

"It— it is, yeah. We, um, we are not very much like you and Quackity at all." Thank fucking hell, and also several other things. "But it's still not... the same as you and me? I was sixteen when I met him, and I mean obviously I'm glad I did meet him then, but— it's definitely not the same thing as only knowing me as, the way I am now." 

"I suppose." Wilbur considers this. "What were you like? Forgive me if I'm being too forward."

"I was..." 

...christ, that's a hell of a question. And not one he can really truthfully answer, not without getting way more into the specifics of his life than he wants to. 

"I mean, I was right out of the arena. I didn't really have friends, then— or, I'd had friends before the arena, but afterwards they moved me to a new neighborhood and a new job, and I was just different, suddenly, in a way none of the people I'd known before really knew how to deal with. So they stopped trying, and I did too. —I'm not mad about it. I get it. We were all really fucking young. But I was living in this tiny quiet neighborhood I didn't know, with Schlatt. I was— god, I was a fucking idiot then."

He lets go of Wilbur's hand so he can shove his face into his palms, press down against his eyes. "I didn't know what I could and couldn't fucking handle, and I had to be taught what I couldn't get away with, and I still screamed in my sleep like some kind of—" 

Here he cuts himself off. Stop fucking talking. Don't admit to that shit, what are you, stupid? Can you for ten goddamn seconds quit whining? 

"Hey, hey, Q, it's alright. It's alright." ...His instinct is to give Q a hug but he's not sure if grabbing Q is the best idea? Very tentative aborted motions towards Q. "You're here now. It's okay."

"I know where I am, you don't have to—" 

Heavy sigh. He takes his hands off his face, sits up straighter. "I'm fine, Wilbur. I know where I am." 

It feels like he's stepped wrong again. He pulls his arms back towards himself. "Right. Yeah. Of course."

"I— shit, I'm sorry. I don't want to be— I'm sorry. I was being a bitch. You didn't do anything wrong." 

Pause. 

"...anyway. It doesn't matter. I'm not that person anymore." 

"No, it's-- I get it." He does, is the thing. Not all of it, but-- he's not the person he used to be either. Or at least he doesn't want to be. "I'm glad you had him, man."

"...yeah. I am too." He's starting to relax again, leaning into Wilbur's side. 

...Hug? 

(I love you. I love you. I love you.)

"So you're still--we're still--" He gives up on the sentence, leans his head on Q. He hasn't fully processed it yet, it doesn't feel real. Probably won't for a while, if it ever does.

Hug. It's... nice, just getting to be hugged. Whatever it was he expected to happen, it doesn't seem to be happening. 

"Yeah. We're still— whatever it is we are." 

"Good. That's--that's good."

(He's not sure what it is, exactly, that they are. Friends, certainly; not allies, certainly. Friends-and-not-allies doesn't really seem to cover it, that's what he is with Fundy. But boyfriends is what he is with Sapnap and arguably Karl, and lover has the opposite problem, that means Schlatt; there isn't really a better word. 

...but if he's promising to continue being Wilbur's friend, it's probably some sort of problem that they aren't allies. And— he really doesn't want his Wilbur to see the way he talks to him and start making faces about lives being livable. 

This is, he thinks, an incredibly fucking contemptible reason to rethink a relationship. But, you know, that isn't news.) 

He spends the night in the Arctic, and a chunk of the next day, and then goes back to Kinoko. He's not avoiding his Wilbur; they text each other. But it takes a couple days for him to work up the willingness to be in Paradise, let alone Las Nevadas. 

Las Nevadas is very, very quiet. 

It's weird, not having anything he's supposed to be doing with himself. ...but nice being left alone. He'll take it. 

And a couple of days later, Wilbur shows up in Paradise.

He talks to Q and Ranboo about L'Manberg's independence, which was apparently a year ago; they go to the museum; they go to the crater. At the crater, Wilbur sees Tubbo and starts running towards him, waving and shouting his name.

He reaches out for Wilbur's wrist but Wilbur is, apparently, faster than him. Shit. Okay. Now what. 

...now he takes out his comms. 

Quackity_V68 whispers to WilburSoot_V63: hi im sorry do you know where the crater is

WilburSoot_V63 whispers to Quackity_V68: yes o7

Right. Awesome. Thank you Wilbur. Q makes his way towards Tubbo, slower, but honestly he's not optimistic about helping or even about Tubbo wanting him to. 

Wilbur picks his way around the crater towards Tubbo, chattering excitedly as he goes: that they haven't seen each other in a while, that he's excited to see him, that Tubbo's wearing his suit, that Wilbur's a changed person. Tubbo seems... unhappy; he's being polite about it but it's not hard to pick up on the fact that it's not genuine even if you don't know him too well. He's shaking a little. Despite this, Wilbur is clearly not picking up on it. Ranboo is following at a distance, studying the dirt and trying very hard not to exist.

Tubbo has just finished asking a question when another Wilbur comes into view on the horizon; the native Wilbur says "Hold on just a second" and turns around to excitedly wave him down also.

Quackity, when you asked for an intercept, I was not really expecting it to be this.

"—am I interrupting something?"

"A little bit." Pause. "But it's good to meet you! Heard so much about you, haven't met you yet in the flesh--Tubbo, have you met--"

"I've met the, uh, other Quackity." Polite nod. "The other you is new."

"Pleased to meet you, Tubbo." Polite smile, nod in return. "Wilbur, I was actually wondering if I could steal you for a moment? I, ah, wanted to pick your brain about something." 

Light head tilt. "Not to be rude or anything but, uh, you said it yourself, you're-- kind of interrupting. I'm, um, I'm actually trying to apologize, right now."

Quite the apology, it looks like. Well, what is even the point of a carefully cultivated reputation as an eccentric if you can't be affably incredibly rude sometimes, that's what Wilbur always says. 

"Be that as it may, I do think you're the only person who can help me with this," he says, cheerful but firm. 

Wilbur raises his eyebrows. "Well alright then. Forgive me, I should probably see what this is about--I'll be back in just a moment."

Wonderful wonderful let's go over there and give Tubbo a chance to be somewhere else that is not here by the time Wilbur gets back. 

"Apologies," he says, "but nobody I've asked has been able to tell me where I might find you— well, Quackity might have been able to, but you know how he gets— in any case."

Are they a decent distance away? Looks like they are. He does have to ask something, now, but fortunately the subject matter presents itself. He turns back to the other Wilbur, wide-eyed and just a little bit dramatic, not so much so that it's clearly artful— "I'm informed that you're the founder of a nation?" 

"Former nation." Gesture back behind them, at the crater. "The crater is all that's left of it, after I was done."

"Of course. But— mm, I'm not sure how much you know about where I'm from?" 

"Much, much larger than here. Population is--in the millions? Not sure if that's all time or current. Techno can't take the military, which is presumably why it's still standing. You and Quackity both won a Hunger Games, he's still--kind of messed up about it. Messed up about other things, too, but it's hard to say with more specifics, he's--kind of private. Uh, it's harder to build things? Not sure what you're looking for here." Easy laugh. Still not sure why this had to be now, or why it had to be private.

...well, he was going to spin up a story about why he was interested in what happened with L'Manberg. But now he's curious. 

"—why do you say, which is presumably why it's still standing?" Did Quackity get that brave when Wilbur wasn't looking, or...? 

"I mean." Glance back at the crater. "Historically Techno hasn't looked too fondly on governments. If Phil exists, which he does, he's on Techno's side. I'm one for revolution myself, I'm not as good at fighting as they are but that's a high bar. Techno's won a 3v200 before, it wouldn't be a sure bet but I bet he'd try. I mean, I would. But a 3v1 million? Yeah, that he might not take."

Governments, plural, and just in general? Interesting. He wonders how things in Thirteen are going. But the important part is that no, Quackity hasn't told this Wilbur much at all. Which is not really a surprise but it's— good to know, regardless. (There's something deeply, deeply bitter about this other Wilbur saying I'm one for revolution myself, openly, to someone he's barely even met. About him being able to just say shit like that. Skating over that; it isn't relevant.)

"Understandable! Understandable. But— well, all of this is a little afield." It isn't but he's already asked an eyebrow-raising number of questions on this theme. "What I mean to ask is, what was L'Manberg like?" 

Now isn't that a fucking question.

He could tell the other Wilbur what he told Q and Ranboo: Tommy, singing to the flowers. It would be true.

(More memories spring to mind: Tubbo, spinning around and around on the ground beneath him, trying to spot Wilbur, perched on a tree. Tommy yelling syllable at Dream. Fundy, with no armor, his poorly-made revolutionary suit standing out in the crowd, pastels amid a sea of jewel tones. A book: suck it, green boy! Getting out his guitar to sing the anthem to Niki, days later but not weeks. Building an alleyway with Tommy, a white house with Quackity. 

The way he ended his first day: That's the prologue, dude! That's episode one.

Eret's voice, and then Schlatt's, ringing out. Watching Tommy die twice in the same day, celebrating after. The sharp pain of an arrow through his stomach, the second time he died for his country. The way an election became a ravine became a button room became a sword through his chest. The way a van became a crater. 

And before all of that, before Wilbur even joined the Dream SMP: a phone call with Tommy, the tinny sounds of Cat playing over the phone, watching the same sunset.)

He doesn't say any of that. "It was about--it was about sticking it to the man, you know? It was--it was a great place, I'm not going to say I didn't like it, but--not always for the right reasons. It was a tool. It was a good tool! A useful one! It--it divided a lot of people, it helped me--consolidate power, you know, against Dream. And then I, I wasn't in power anymore, I didn't like it as much." (He is aware that this doesn't, actually, answer the question that was asked, but it's--words, related enough to be a distraction.)

That's not what he asked but it's a hell of a response. More informative than an actual answer would have been in any case; if you want to know what a place is like you don't ask its president. 

"That's an interesting lens to take on that sort of project," he says, neutrally. 

"Thank you, I think. It was--well, it's in the past now. Only thing to do is move forward, start new projects."

"Indeed." Smile. "I, ah— hear you've got a thing started?"

“I do, yes! Just some— healthy competition.”

If Wilbur were a different person entirely, this would be the point at which he thought, oh, I'm going to have to fucking kill you, aren't I. 

In the world that exists, he keeps smiling, politely. Has it been long enough for Tubbo and Quackity to get the hell out of dodge if they want to... he's pretty sure it has. "Of course," he says, magnanimously. "—Well, thank you for your time, I won't keep you longer. It was nice to finally meet you." 

“My pleasure. You ever want to talk again, you can find me at the Paradise burger van, it’s just across the river from Las Nevadas.” 

He bounces back across the crater; his smile falters but doesn’t fall completely when he sees empty space where Tubbo used to be. (Is Q still there?)

He is! He looks.... well, he looks more relaxed than he did before, at any rate. Low bar but he is meeting it. 

Then he will not be additionally confused and unhappy about Q’s absence!

”Do you happen to know where Tubbo went?”

"No idea, he just said something came up." 

This is even true. Well, the important part is true, he doesn't in fact know where Tubbo is or would have gone, other than 'probably not somewhere Wilbur would be likely to look for him.' 

"I'll have to catch him another time. I think--I think we're going to create something great, with Paradise, and I hope--I hope things work out, you know, between everyone. 'Cause Tubbo's, he's a good kid, y'know? So when I saw him, I thought of, Q, in the arctic, when I told you I should apologize to him, and I just wanted to, y'know, ask for forgiveness. Let him know that I'm not, I'm not the same person anymore, I'm a changed man. And maybe we could, y'know, work things out. Another time. I know--I know right now a lot of the people who knew me before, they're, they're scared of me. But they'll--it'll get better. I mean, you two aren't scared of me. Right? So it'll--I think it'll work out. And, uh, thank you, both of you, for that, for--for giving me a second chance."

...holding hands now? Holding hands now. (Is this sweet and affectionate and romantic, or is it Quackity wanting to have a fucking leash on Wilbur so he can't go running off again? What a good question, and it's unfortunate how even Q does not have an answer.) 

It didn't, in fact, go disastrously. Q froze up and had to call for backup and he'd rather not have to do it too much more but he did, in fact, have backup he could call. Tubbo is somewhere else. That interaction went about as well as it could have. Things are fine. "You're welcome," he says, gentle, patient, kind, all the things he was in the Arctic. "—I mean, you know that. But." 

Wilbur's heading back to Paradise but he's not running, it's a slow walk. Q can stop him if he needs to.

"Yeah. We're--I know I, I fucked up, with L'Manberg, with--destroying it. Well--I mean, I think there is some gray area there, but I regret how I did it, I--I hurt Tubbo, and Tommy, in ways I--didn't have to. I was--I was sick. But I can do better this time, I can show them that I can do better this time. And it'll be, it'll be worth it, when we're all--smiling again, eating burgers. I can, I can fix things, I can do it right this time. I know some people are--they look at the burger van and they just see that I'm doing it all again, you know? And that's, that's not entirely wrong, but the way I think about it, L'Manberg wasn't all bad, you know? I created something--very impactful. I mean, Tubbo still--he was in the crater, right? On our independence day. So clearly he still--he hasn't entirely moved on, he still cares about L'Manberg. I think a lot of people do. And I can do that again, make something people care about, and this time, I'll, I'll learn from my mistakes and do it better. I'm--I'm really excited about it, to be honest." Half-laugh. "I know we haven't done that much so far, but it's been--it's been really good working with you both. I mean that, I'm not lying."

Going back to Paradise is fine, he likes Paradise. Paradise is, if anything, starting to feel like home turf. 

It's— well, it's a bad pitch. There's hardly even anything in the pitch. And anyway it's not going to happen and it'd be stupid and pathetic to put any real weight on the hope that it will; Wilbur can say all he wants that he's learned from his mistakes, that he's going to build something worth wanting this time, but Quackity knows better, or at least he should. He knows how to be realistic. He's not a kid anymore. 

Still, his heart's in his throat when he says, "I'm excited about it too." Still, he holds onto Wilbur's hand tighter so it's less obvious how shaky he is when he says, "What's it gonna look like? Or— not just look like, I don't mean the buildings, but— the thing you want to build this time?"