Mickey had just returned to Ventureland after defeating Captain Hook aboard the Jolly Roger. It had been tricky to find a way to defeat Hook while still being able to rescue the Sprite but Mickey had managed it by using ingenuity and a copious amount of Thinner. It was not his preferred method; Thinner was destructive. Whenever he used it Mickey could feel the part of the Blot he had absorbed become stronger and more powerful, a terrible sensation that he would not wish even on his worst enemy. Paint was much better: it restored everything and attracted Tints, glittery blue guardians that energised Mickey. While he appreciated the fact that they were there to help him like the Tints, the poison-green Turps seemed to unknowingly feed the dark side of Mickey. He fought against it, feeling as if he was being destroyed from the inside out. He also hated how he dripped ink after using too much Thinner – it was unsettling. It made him appear as if he was part of the Blot, a thought that caused Mickey to shudder. The worst part was the feeling using too much Thinner left him: Mickey felt as if he would either lose consciousness or be sick or sometimes even both. He had to paint something soon but Ventureland did not have much thinned toon to attract more Tints – Mickey had to return to Mean Street if he wanted to have enough buildings to paint. The problem was that if Oswald saw him dripping ink he would not only double down on his assertion that his half-brother was out to make his life miserable but also claim that he was working with the Blot. Mickey was not in the mood to deal with the rabbit's antics.
"You did good back there," Gus said, appearing before Mickey and causing him to start. "Smee and the other pirates are home; Hook's been stopped; Pete Pan has his Sprite; and Daisy's in one piece again. You're what Wasteland needed."
"Don't let Oswald hear you say that. He'll have both our heads," Mickey said.
With a groan, he fell to one knee. That small part of the Blot inside him was toxic.
"Mickey! What's wrong?" Gus cried.
"Nothing. It's just the Blot that's overwhelming me again. I've used too much Thinner with Hook," Mickey replied, looking up at his new friend.
"You need to use Paint right now."
"There isn't much to paint here. I have to go back to Mean Street for that."
"Can you handle going through a cartoon? That method of travel can be taxing," Gus said worriedly.
"I don't have much of a choice. I'll be fine, I promise," Mickey said, smiling faintly.
Gus helped him to his feet. "Well, if you need to rest, don't hesitate to tell me."
"I won't. Let's go."
Mickey led the way with Gus hot on his trail. All he could focus on was reaching Mean Street before succumbing to the symptoms of the Blot. If Mickey was lucky he could move fast enough to prevent Oswald from seeing the drips when he came out on the other side of the projector. If not, he would have to find an escape as soon as possible. Mickey refused to expose any weaknesses to his half-brother – heaven only knew what the resentful rabbit would do with them.
Oswald stared up at the statue as he waited for Mickey and Gus to return from Ventureland with the next rocket part. How did his life wind up this way? First he had lost his fame and then he had lost his home and Ortensia. Now the one Toon in the world he could not stand was currently gallivanting around this place, gathering – much to the rabbit's dismay – admiration and trust from the forgotten Toons. Oswald had worked hard to paint Mickey Mouse in a negative light and he had thought he had succeeded. Of course, there were a couple of Toons who did not believe him – Clarabelle and Horace, who had known Mickey personally – but one could not influence everybody, right? The majority of Toons had believed him and that was all that mattered to Oswald. They worshipped him, not Mickey. If the Toons of Wasteland decided that the mouse was better than he was then Oswald could not be held responsible for his actions when his anger exploded.
There was noise coming from the Ventureland projector. Oswald looked over and saw Mickey and Gus tumble out of it. Finally, Oswald thought. Huffing quietly, he made his way towards them.
"There you are!" Oswald said irritably. "What took you so long to get that rocket piece? If it was me doing your work I would've had Hook dealt with before you can say –"
The end of his sentence was lost when Mickey suddenly bolted past him, lightly shoving him in the process. Gus quickly straightened up as Oswald regained his balance while uttering choice words under his breath.
"Mickey! The cinema!" Gus yelled. Oswald looked up in time to see Mickey disappear into the cinema. The usher who stood by the door stared at him in surprise.
"Gus! What's going on here? This is no time for that mouse to be watching a movie!" Oswald snapped, rounding on the gremlin.
"He's not going to watch a movie, Oswald," Gus said in exasperation. "He needs the bathroom."
"What, he has to check his reflection? Heaven forbid that our visiting celebrity has a single hair out of place."
"Mickey was sick while we were travelling through the projector and he's about to be sick again."
There was a pause. "You mean he's going to…?" Oswald said, his eyebrows raised.
"Yeah. He hid behind a bush the first time and he has managed to hold out until now. Poor guy," Gus said.
Oswald softened despite himself. "Do you know what's wrong with him?" he asked.
"It's that part of the Blot that's inside him. Whenever Mickey uses too much Thinner it gives that small piece of the Blot strength, which makes Mickey feel sick. He even came close to fainting a few times. The beauty and goodness of Paint weakens the Blot so Mickey has to paint in some toon in order to feel better. He likened the feeling of the Blot to being destroyed from the inside out," Gus explained.
Had this been happening the whole time? Oswald tried not to feel bad for his half-brother but he found he could not suppress the emotion. He knew what the Blot was capable of doing: it had reduced the structures of Wasteland to near ruin and had turned Ortensia inert. His whole world had turned upside down again, now a place where disorder and chaos reigned supreme. Oswald did not wish for the Blot to rage inside anyone's body, not even Mickey's.
The rabbit sighed and ran a hand over his face. On the one hand he did not want to go near his half-brother. But on the other he knew that Ortensia would encourage him to see the ailing Mickey and would be disappointed in him if he did not do what he could to help him. Unable to stand the thought of his honey-bunch being disgruntled with him, Oswald began to make his way to the Mean Street cinema.
"Where are you going, Oswald?" Gus asked.
"To the cinema," Oswald deadpanned.
"Wait up!"
"No."
Gus paused. "You don't want me to come with you?" he asked uncertainly.
Oswald stopped. "I don't. I need to do this by myself," he said tersely, his back to Gus.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Okay. Just… go easy on him, all right?" Gus said.
Oswald gave a stiff nod before resuming his journey. The usher offered a cheerful tip of his hat when the rabbit approached the entrance to the cinema. Oswald acknowledged the greeting with a small wave before slipping inside the building.
The men's room was down the hall. Oswald stood outside the door and listened for signs of life. He heard none so he carefully pushed the door open to peek inside. There was nothing at first but then there was a flush and a stall door opened. Mickey stepped out, pale, shaky, and oozing ink. He did not notice Oswald as he dragged his feet towards the nearest sink and splashed water on his face. The rabbit took a deep breath and entered the bathroom.
"Hey, Mou –" Oswald stopped himself, remembering Ortensia and Gus's request to be considerate. It took some effort to say the next words. "Mickey. Are you okay?"
Mickey jumped. He quickly turned his head towards Oswald, a gesture that proved to be a mistake. He clutched at his head, falling to his knees. Oswald, acting on instinct, bounced towards him. He placed his hands on Mickey's shoulders to steady him, his eyes on his half-brother as they waited for the vertigo to pass. When it did, Mickey raised his head. Oswald was shocked to see how drained he looked. He stepped behind his half-brother and slowly guided him into a sitting position.
"Oswald… What are you doing here?" Mickey asked quietly.
"I came to see how you were," Oswald replied. "Gus told me everything."
"Why? I thought you didn't care about me," Mickey said.
"Ortensia would have wanted me to make sure you're all right," Oswald mumbled.
"Ah. That makes more sense."
Mickey suddenly leaned back against Oswald. The rabbit froze, unsure of what to do.
"Sorry… I'm still a bit weak," Mickey said, hunching his shoulders.
"It's fine," Oswald said stiffly. He then sighed. "Do you need to stay like this for a bit?"
"I do, but don't force yourself to do this," Mickey replied.
"While it doesn't thrill me to act as your support beam, having you in this condition won't do any good. We still have one last piece of the rocket to collect and you're the only one who can get it. If leaning on me will help you get some strength back then I'm willing to take one for the team."
"Um, thanks. I think."
Sweat was on Mickey's brow. Oswald grabbed some paper towels from the dispenser behind him. He rinsed them in cool water before handing them to Mickey.
"Here. At least try to make yourself look semi-presentable," Oswald said.
"Thanks," Mickey mumbled.
He wiped his face, the drops of ink floating out of his arms with every movement. Oswald eyed them warily. It was unnerving to watch a Toon ooze ink – only the Blot did that. With some hesitation, Oswald reached out to touch one of the drops. It did not pop when it came into contact with his finger. How could Mickey have absorbed part of the Blot? And how did it not seem to alter his personality? He behaved the exact same way he did in the cartoon world. Could Mickey's will be so strong that the Blot could not penetrate through his defenses and it was that inner Tug-of-War that was making Mickey so sick? Oswald was, despite himself, beginning to feel he might have misjudged his half-brother.
"Well. That's unsettling," he remarked, referring to the ink.
"I know," Mickey replied. "I don't like it either."
"How long has this whole thing with the Blot being going? Have you been sick before now?" Oswald asked.
"This is only the second time I've… you know. First time was in the Ventureland projector screen on the way here. I started noticing the symptoms while helping Gremlin Tim fix some rides: they were mild and went away so I didn't think much of them at first. I only realised what was going on when I was fighting the Beetleworx in Tomorrow City. You have to use Thinner since Paint doesn't do anything except patch up their shells. Since then I've been trying to limit my use of Thinner.
"The Blot likes the destructive nature of Thinner. It feeds on it, gains strength from it. Paint seems to quell the Blot's fury, which I why I need to paint something right now," Mickey explained. He looked at Oswald. "I've never been like this before now. I guess my fight with Hook overexcited the part of the Blot in me and it was too much for my body to handle."
Oswald was speechless. Mickey had been battling a near supernatural force in silence, the only person who knew of the struggle being Gus. An overwhelming feeling of guilt washed over the rabbit.
"I… I had no idea…" Oswald said, faltering a bit.
"It's not as if I advertised it," Mickey replied. "There was no way you could have known."
"Why didn't you say anything?" Oswald demanded. "This could end badly if you're not careful."
Mickey hunched his shoulders. Oswald raised an eyebrow in response.
"Well… I was worried that might have given you another reason to berate me," Mickey said awkwardly.
"How callous do you think I am?" Oswald asked, affronted.
"You haven't exactly been friendly to me, Oswald. You've made it no secret that you resent me so what was I supposed to think? That you'd change your tune if you found out what the Blot did to me?"
Oswald opened his mouth. He closed it seconds later, realising that he had no leg to stand on.
"I… would have gone easier on you," the rabbit eventually mumbled.
"No, you wouldn't have," Mickey told him. "You've been angry with me for a long time and that's not going to vanish in the blink of an eye. The loss of fame has hurt you and I understand why you blame me for it. I honestly do."
Oswald couldn't believe how gentle and forgiving his half-brother's tone was. The rabbit didn't feel he deserved it.
"Just because I'm angry it doesn't mean that I'm cruel. I don't want the Blot to destroy you, especially like this," Oswald said.
"But you hope that I'll end up here just like you. You've had my house built, ready to welcome me," Mickey replied with a gentle sigh. "You even recreated Minnie's house but ended up giving it to Ortensia instead."
Oswald winced at the sound of Ortensia's name. "Well, just because I'm not fond of you it doesn't mean I want your girlfriend to fail. She didn't do anything wrong."
"Neither did I, Oswald. I never knew of your existence before falling into Wasteland; how can I ruin the life of someone I wasn't even aware of?"
That, Oswald grudgingly admitted, was a good question. He struggled to find an answer and came up with none.
"I don't know…" the rabbit whispered. "You still took over my position and your fame overshadowed mine. I went from being a star to nothing literally overnight and there was nothing I could do about it. Do you have any idea how scary it is to wake up one morning and find yourself in a place you're not familiar with? Because that's what happens to Toons who are forgotten: they go to sleep in the cartoon world and wake up here. Wasteland was bare when I arrived: I didn't know where I was or how I wound up here. It was terrifying."
Oswald's grip on Mickey's shoulders tightened as he spoke. The mouse didn't flinch. Instead, he reached up and placed his hand on the rabbit's. Oswald was startled.
"I'm sorry…" Mickey said quietly. "If I could turn back time and prevent all of this from happening, I would. No one should endure what you went through. I was just doing my job in the cartoon world: I never imagined that my success would erase anyone else's. I'm so, so sorry."
That response was not what Oswald had expected. Ever since Mickey came into the limelight the rabbit had imagined the mouse to be a glory hog, someone who didn't care who he stepped on in order to reach his goals. The sincerity in Mickey's words was hard to miss, no matter what angled they were examined. Oswald now realised that picture he painted of Mickey may have been of his own design.
"I should go and use Paint to restore my strength," Mickey suddenly said. "I still have one part of the rocket left to collect and I don't want to impose myself on you any longer than necessary."
He tried to get up. Still too weak, Mickey's knees buckled under his weight and he fell forward. Oswald didn't hesitate: he bounced ahead and caught his half-brother. Mickey looked up at him, visibly confused.
"Oswald?" he said uncertainly.
"You're not going anywhere like that, at least not without help," Oswald said, looking down at him. "Come on, I'll support you."
"Taking one for the team again?" Mickey asked, a faint note of sarcasm in his tone.
"Don't be a wise guy," Oswald retorted. "I've already told you that I'm not heartless. Well, not in that sense. You need help and I'm willing to give it so up you get."
Placing one of Mickey's arms around his shoulders, Oswald slipped an arm of his own around his half-brother's waist and carefully helped him to his feet. Mickey wobbled a bit, leaning against Oswald to steady himself. Together they left the bathroom, taking one slow step at a time.
They were halfway through the cinema's lobby when Mickey stopped in his tracks. Oswald looked at him, raising an eyebrow again.
"Don't tell me you're about to be sick again," the rabbit said.
"No," Mickey replied. "I've just remembered something."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a locket. Oswald stared at it in disbelief.
"W-Where did you get that?" he stammered.
"Ortensia's house. After I put Animatronic Goofy back together, he unlocked the door and I was able to go inside. This was lying on a table by the exit," Mickey explained. He gave the locket to Oswald. "I've been meaning to return it to you ever since I got it."
Oswald took the locket with a shaky hand. "I gave this to Ortensia shortly after she joined me in Wasteland," he said, trying his hardest to keep his emotions from bubbling over. "Being banished here made her so sad and I wanted to cheer her up. She never took it off, except for when we went to fight the Blot. Said she didn't want to lose it in the battle. I wish it had been the locket that got lost that day instead of –"
The leader of Wasteland couldn't finish his sentence. Pressing the locket to his chest, he squeezed his eyes shut, unable to stop a sob from escaping. The last thing Oswald wanted was to shed tears in front of Mickey but the sight of the locket unleashed the torrent of grief that he had been keeping buried deep within. Losing the life he had in the cartoon world had been one thing; losing Ortensia was the worst pain Oswald had ever experienced.
A pair of arms enclosed the rabbit and he felt himself be pulled in a warm embrace. Oswald didn't have to look up in order to know that it was Mickey who was hugging him. It left the leader of Wasteland to feel an odd mixture of awkwardness and comfort – if Mickey had done this an hour ago, Oswald would have shoved him away and ordered him to keep his distance. But now the rabbit found himself welcoming the hug and he was amazed at how his half-brother continued to show him kindness despite their differences.
"Why?" Oswald asked softly once he got his tears under control.
"Why what?" Mickey replied.
"Why are you being so nice to me? I did everything I could to make sure you knew you weren't wanted here, made you look like a bad guy to the other Toons, and yet you continue to show me kindness. That's the last thing I deserve from you."
"We all deserve a little kindness, Oswald, especially when we're hurting. I don't want to be your enemy; I don't know if we can be friends but at the very least I'd like to be your ally. Do you think we could ever manage that?"
Oswald looked at Mickey. His half-brother still looked as drained as ever but there was a spark of determination in his eyes. Mickey had done some good here, more good than Oswald cared to admit. Perhaps the mouse being dragged into Wasteland was not a complete blight on the rabbit's life.
"Maybe one day," Oswald said slowly.
"That's good enough for me," Mickey said with a warm smile.
Mickey, Oswald noticed, was trembling with the effort to support himself. The leader of Wasteland placed his half-brother's arm back around his shoulders.
"Come on, you really need to use some Paint," Oswald said. "We can continue this conversation later."
"Careful, Oswald. I might start to think you actually care about me," Mickey teased.
"Shut up," Oswald retorted, frowning. Mickey let out a small laugh.
There was something oddly reassuring about that laugh and the leader of Wasteland allowed a smile to break through as they resumed their journey out of the cinema. Maybe Mickey was right: perhaps they could be allies – even the possibility of a tentative friendship blossoming between the two was beginning to seem plausible in Oswald's eyes. Or perhaps they could be more than friends: they could be brothers. Only time will tell, but for the first time since the Thinner Disaster, Oswald felt a glimmer of hope course through him. Maybe his luck hadn't run out after all.