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Honestly, if Tobirama had not been secretly almost completely blind for years and had not relied on the Force to "see" in his daily life, he would not have believed it. It was rather ridiculous, you see, even when one was used to miracles. Resurrection, seriously?
Then he remembered his brother, that genius Healer, and his own theorising and practical application of teleportation.
The impossible was pretty much possible these days.
Still, it was so improbable that he was still wondering if it was his concussion talking when the voice of his deceased lover rose above where he lay on his side on the ground, overwhelmed by pain, his restraints and his injuries.
"How are we doing here?"
"As good as I look, you arsehole."
Now that he was here, shrouded in Darkness, Tobirama knew it was his fault. This landslide had not happened by itself. It had been caused.
The question now was: why?
"Now, now, that sort of language isn’t befitting of a Jedi High Councillor, especially the Grand Master’s brother."
What, was he filming him to get some blackmail material? He should know by now that it did not faze him in the slightest. Tobirama said what he thought and did what he said, without ever apologising.
There was no time to apologise to every fool one came across.
"My brother the Grand Master can shove his propriety where I think he should for daring to cover for you."
"Cover for me?" Madara repeated.
"You’re not as dead as you are supposed to be," Tobirama muttered, "… though I can’t promise not to resolve this situation by dusk."
"You’ve always been so hot-headed," Madara chuckled, his tone shifting suddenly from tender amusement to cold fury. "He was not entirely wrong about that, though. I did try to kill him, and he responded in kind."
Tobirama let those words sink in for a moment, taking his time to accept them. His lover had defied his brother. His own best friend.
Hashirama had returned, severely burned by Madara’s Force Fire and wounded by lightsaber strikes that would have killed anyone else, even though they were not piercing blows. Madara, for his part, was still radiating pain himself, even though three months had already passed. Three months after that madness.
"What happened?" He finally asked. "Why all this? Why betray us?"
He was not just talking about the Order here. He was talking about him. About them.
Bloody hell, they were basically an old married couple and had been for ten years now. Everyone knew it, even if they did not talk about it. Even the children knew you had to ask Madara if you wanted to soften Tobirama up.
How he could have done such a thing to him, the albino would never understand.
He loved him, for Force’s sake.
"You wouldn’t understand, you don’t know what I know, the Jedi-"
"Come on," Tobirama cut him off curtly, rolling his eyes. "Is that your excuse? Secrets, lies and conspiracies?"
"I’ve seen the truth," Madara insisted. "The truth no Jedi would ever tell us. The Elders lied to us, they-"
"You’re too old to be swayed by a vulgar Sith mind, you idiot!" Tobirama finally lost his temper, suddenly realising why the darkness around them seemed almost tangible.
"I don’t-"
"Shut it! So what, are you planning to become a Sith? It’s true that they’re so much better than us, really."
"I won’t let anyone hold me back."
Tobirama sincerely hoped this was not yet about Hashirama, who had become Grand Master of the Order instead of him. Really. Otherwise, he might end up killing him himself.
"And what exactly do you want to be called?" He asked sarcastically, drawing on every ounce of acerbity he had left – which was always huge. "Darth Cretinus? Darth Stupidious?"
A boot pressed down on his lacerated thigh, pressing directly into the wound, leaving him breathless and dizzy.
It was not his Madara: Madara would never do that to him.
He did not like hurting him.
It was more of a Tobirama thing to express his love through a bit of violence.
"Don’t make a fool of yourself, Tobirama. Zetsu might take you under his wing if only you’d listen to him. You’ve always been particularly proud, but even you know your limits and-"
Tobirama had to cut short this nonsense and remind his man of what really mattered.
"Can he have sex with you?"
Not what he had originally meant to say, but it would do the trick. He should be forgiven: he was not exactly in the best shape. He would blame the concussion.
"He… what?" Madara finally stopped, sounding a bit frantic.
That thing had really messed with his head.
"Can he have sex with you like I do?"
"... no?"
"Do you want to kill me, Madara? We told each other we loved one another, I told you things I’ve never told anyone else, I even gave you my body… Were your words of love and your vows of eternity nothing but lies?"
Something in Madara wavered, and Tobirama realised that this was how he would reach him. By being vulnerable. By reminding him of their love.
Ten years were worth more than all the pretty, enticing promises of a bitter ghost.
"Madara," he sighed softly as he finally struggled free of his bonds, aware that he was about to faint at any moment. "I can’t lose you again, not this time, I won’t let you go... love..."
Letting himself drift into unconsciousness whilst someone spoke to him, and eventually shouted at him and shook him, was a victory in his eyes, let’s be perfectly clear about that.
His victory was complete when he woke up in an unfamiliar bed, but with sheets that smelled of something familiar.
"You didn’t leave," he mumbled, without even trying to leave his cosy cocoon.
"Gone where?"
He knew full well that he could have gone anywhere at that point, so neither of them said anything.
"You didn’t leave me behind… thank you."
"I… honestly think you could understand."
He had been completely brainwashed. Well, almost completely. Tobirama remained.
He was the one keeping him grounded in reality.
"If it’s that important to you, I want to hear it, even if I can’t promise anything afterwards. All I want is you. I don’t want to leave you."
A hand grasped the one he had blindly held out, and the Jedi Master smiled with satisfaction as he felt lips touch his forehead, words of love, comfort and reassurance enveloping him in a pattern so familiar that he could not help but feel confident.
"Thank you, my love. You won’t regret it, Tobirama, I swear."
Oh, I know I won’t.
If he had to manipulate him emotionally until he could chain him to a Mental Healer’s chair in the Temple for the duration of his treatment, so be it.
He loved that idiot too much to let him down at the first sign of corruption.
It was his role to catch him when he fell.