Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The past.

Technoblade breathes hard, mouth open, air snorting through his nostrils. Sweat sticks the boar mask to his face.

His opponent's mask is cracked, its smile chipped at one edge. A single wide green eye stares back at him. Then it narrows and crinkles and the man on the ground laughs breathlessly. Techno doesn't drop his guard for an instant and he's proven right as the man twists his head and throws up a hand, taking the edge of Techno's blade across his palm in a final bid for escape --

The crowd roars. They don't want the show to end.

Techno's blood sings.

He drops and sweeps his sword low, forcing his target to flip his whole body skyward to avoid it. Techno is impressed. But he lands, crouching, on his now-bleeding palm and slips.

Techno pounces, this time leading with his fist. He grabs him by the front of the shirt and yanks him in close, smashing the hilt of his sword into the smiling mask.  

His opponent drops to his knees, stunned. Blood drips from under the mask. Techno still holds him upright by the collar and he gives him a little shake. "D'you surrender now?" 

"I...huh?" He blinks. The crowd's screams fill the air -- some cheers, some boos. Techno imagines the bets that must have been placed on this last match: Technoblade versus Dream, the fight of the year.

Dream's gaze shifts back to Techno and he smiles. "Yeah."

Techno unceremoniously drops him. Dream falls to all fours with a grunt. Techno pumps his fist into the air and the crowd howls for their champion. "BLOOD GOD! BLOOD GOD!"

Then the chant changes: "BLOOD! BLOOD! BLOOD! BLOOD!"

The elation of his victory sours. The Pit doors open with a clang and he spots one of his handlers. She makes a short, sharp motion across her throat. 

Dream doesn't move. "I don't mind dying to you," he says. "At least it's not someone embarrassing."  

A long moment passes. Techno's sword feels heavy in his hand.

Dream rocks back on his heels, cocking his head to one side. "What?"

"I don't think I want to kill you," Techno muses. Dream is the only one who's presented a real challenge to him in a long time. Over the course of ten matches, he feels like he's gotten to know the man. Killing him would be like killing...well, not a friend, he doesn't have friends in the Pit. But this feels wrong, cheap somehow. "I'm a fighter, not an executioner."

"They'll just match us against each other again," Dream says. "Until one of us actually kills the other one."

"Think of the betting on the rematch," Techno monotones. He sheathes his sword and extends a hand to Dream. The crowd boos. "We're going to make so many people rich."

After a moment's hesitation, Dream takes Techno's hand and gets to his feet. He turns to the crowd and raises Techno's hand in his. The boos transform into cheers. Say one thing about Dream, he knows how to work the crowd. Maybe that's why he has so much clout. "Smile for the people, Technoblade."

"You're welcome." Techno bares his teeth at the crowd.

"Thank you." Dream's voice changes, losing its bluster. "Living like this, I don't expect to survive, you know? But I'm glad not to die."

Techno wonders if there's someone he's living for, someone he remembers with a fleeting warmth when he wakes in the morning. He knows he has a soulmate of his own out there, and the knowledge makes his own life feel a lot more...more. It makes it easier to imagine a life outside the Pit. "I think I know what you mean."

Their handlers are approaching, gesturing for them to separate. Techno's main handler wears a disapproving frown, but he knows she won't dare rebuke him. Especially not once the managers of the Pit realize the payoff potential of a rematch. Already he's mentally reviewing the ten matches, analyzing everything he did wrong and every strategy he can use next time. He's sure Dream will do the same.

He'd like to sit with Dream and talk it over, pick each match to pieces and chat strategy. That would be...fun?

"See you," Dream calls as his handlers move him away.

Techno raises a hand. "See you next time."

"Hopefully sooner!"

"You wish, loser," Techno calls, smiling.

That earns him a retort he can't hear as Dream leaves, his trash talk fading into the roar of the crowd. Techno just laughs.

He's too keyed-up to sleep now, despite all the exertion. But he looks forward to tonight. He'll have someone to share this victory with, even though he won't remember the conversation. He's wondered a hundred times who his soulmate is, but right now he doesn't care. It's enough to know he's not alone.

The present.

"I'll keep -- "

"I'll take first -- "

Dream and Technoblade both attempted to speak at once. Technoblade glared at Dream, huffing a low snort. His lips creased with what might have been concern, might have been mere irritation. Dream still had a hard time reading him, even after all they'd been through. The piglin hybrid hid most of his emotions from Dream and everyone else. And the mask didn't help. But then, Dream knew a lot about hiding behind a mask. 

"I'll take first watch," Dream said, overriding Techno. Techno closed his jaws with a snap. "You look exhausted."

It was true -- Techno's eyes beneath the mask were shaded a bruised purple, one still swollen from a blow he'd caught defending Dream during their escape. It had been a week, but they had travelled fast with little sleep. With that and the arena competitions today, they were both worn nearly to their limit.

"You need to rest, too," Techno said, but his voice was scratchy with tiredness.

"I've had more sleep than you." More sleep than I wanted. And the sleep hadn't been restful. He barely remembered crying himself out as Techno held him. The dreams that followed, he did remember. They were cold, and empty. The dreamscape he'd built with his soulmate was just...gone. Even waking up beside a friend, breathing the first free air he'd ever tasted, had felt...unreal. His mind kept getting sucked back into the cold silence. 

The dreamland had been his escape from everything, an infinite playground where nothing hurt and he could forget the violence of everyday life. Remembering that and then losing it all at once had been destabilizing. Losing George meant losing that place meant losing half his reality. There was a gap in his world where half himself had once been, and without it, without him, he didn't feel real.

After tonight, he would never have to sleep again.

"...Dream?"

"I thought I heard something," Dream lied. He even got up and made a circuit of their camp, a show of watching out for enemies. He was a good liar, always had been. It was necessary to survive. 

He could always tell if Dream was bullshitting.

Technoblade's ear flicked. "I didn't hear anything."

"Just let me take the watch," Dream snapped. He bit his lip. "Please, I don't want to sleep. Please."

"I know." Techno caught his shoulder, stopping his agitated pacing. "That's the problem. You won't wake me up."

I won't, Dream promised silently. "I will," he swore. "I will."

Techno just grunted. "I will," Dream repeated. "We both have to be rested if we want to make it across the mountains tomorrow. I'll wake you up. If I stay up longer, I'll...I'll be able to fall asleep faster. For once."

Techno squeezed his shoulder. That nearly broke him, and Dream was grateful for the mask that hid half his face. "Three hours?"

He swallowed, clearing the lump in his throat. "Sure."

Technoblade nodded. He released Dream and settled into a spot beneath the tree they'd chosen, a little hollow about a hundred meters from a river gorge. Dream held himself together as Technoblade closed his eyes, his breath deepened, and he drifted into slumber quickly. And why wouldn't he? Techno would be spending the next three hours with his soulmate. Whoever they were, they were waiting for him somewhere.

As soon as he was sure Techno was asleep, Dream let out a long, shaking breath and braced his hands on his knees. The tears he'd been holding back leaked from under his mask and he covered his mouth, trying to keep quiet. Techno's hearing was sharper than a human's, and Dream didn't want to wake him, didn't think he could take more of the man's kindness. Techno was his...ally? Friend? Something like that -- but every well-intentioned gesture or concerned word or look just reminded Dream of what he'd lost. Techno was not George, and it wasn't his fault, and he was trying in his clumsy way to be considerate, but Dream wanted George's arms around him and he wanted to tell George all the things he'd been too scared to say, the things he'd been holding back until their escape.

He shook with laughter that hurt his stomach, hands still firmly over his mouth. He had been too scared to tell George until after the escape because what if they had failed? What if he'd confessed how he felt to his soulmate, only to have George lose him when he died trying to escape the Pit?

Dream rocked back and forth, hugging his aching stomach with one arm and laughing into the crook of his elbow as quietly as he could. Technoblade didn't stir. Dream hoped he was happy in the dreamland, hoped he would find happiness and his soulmate in the waking world someday. He deserved that. Dream wheezed until he was light-headed.

And then everything stopped. He wasn't sure how long it had been -- there was a blank in his memory between laughing and where he found himself now, kneeling on the ground. But he didn't want to wait any longer.

Dream listened to the river in the background, alert for any unusual noise as he gathered his things. He didn't like leaving Techno without a guard, but their spot was sheltered. He was pretty sure no one would find his sleeping friend before night fell.

Taking his things felt worse -- even worse than stealing, since he knew it would all go to waste. But he had to take his share of the food if he wanted Techno to believe he'd left. Ideally, Techno would wake at nightfall to find Dream gone, and assume he'd decided to strike off on his own.

Dream wondered if Technoblade would look for him, and made a mental note to disguise his trail to the river. In another world, another life, he might have relished the challenge of the hunt. Techno was surely a formidable hunter, but Dream thought that he might be the better tracker, faster on his feet and better in the wilds. He thought he might just win. The idea made him smile.

Dream made a circuit of their camp, travelling outwards in widening circles to listen for any pursuit. He swung himself into a tall tree, scampering up into the highest boughs without fear. The trunk swayed and he leaned out dangerously far, surveying the land. To the south rose the mountains, to the east the river ravine and their camp. The road was north, a pale sliver in the distance. He thought he saw sun glint off armor, and watched the party for an hour as they moved slowly away. He was not about to leave Techno unprotected if enemies were approaching. But the road emptied out after that, and nothing but animals stirred in the forest below.

Dream looked down.

It didn't seem that far to fall. Heights had never bothered him much -- and now the distance to the ground, the wind moving the tree, even the bark under his hands felt...unreal. It felt like if he let go, he would just float. The feeling unsettled him, but he didn't fear it. His hand slipped a little. 

Maybe he could just do it now. Technoblade would find his body, and that might hurt him, but it was difficult to think about Techno right now. Techno wasn't here and Dream's memory of him already felt unsteady, dissolving into the weird unreality around him. 

"No," Dream said out loud, trying to shock himself back to reality with the sound of his own voice. He had a plan. He was going to do this by his plan.

He climbed down and padded back to their camp. Techno hadn't stirred. The shifting leaves cast a dappled pattern over his ostentatious red cloak. Dream sighed at it, remembering the argument they'd had a dozen times. That thing stands out for miles. Yes, that's the idea. But anyone will see us coming! So I'll distract them while you sneak up from the side and take them out. The idea is to avoid fights -- you'd be better off with something more camouflaged. I'm not changing into your hideous green, so don't even ask. Well fine, but don't blame me if you get shot.

Dream blinked. Something buzzed between his ears, like a hiccup in his brain. He had the sense that he'd lost time again. He checked the sun. It was later -- a half hour closer to sunset? An hour? Did it matter? It only strengthened his conviction in what he was about to do. Techno would be much better off without him.

Dream had been trying for the last week, he really had, but he was a liability. So far, Techno had had to drag him away from beating up village drunks, smooth over those conflicts with gold, argue about who would take watch, tire him out with nightly sparring matches so he would sleep, deal with random fits of crying, and once slap Dream in the face to snap him out of the blank space where time got away from him...

First was the false trail. Dream made his way in a straightforward path through the forest, snapping twigs and making sure to plant his boots in mud and kick some fallen leaves as he went. All the while, he was making his way downhill towards a spot where the ravine widened and the gorge opened into a shallow river run.

Dream found a shallow stretch and waded across. The chilly water shocked his senses, soaking over his boots and freezing his feet in a way he would have found annoying a week ago. Now it reminded him of his new dreams.

After leaving footprints on the far side, Dream doubled back to the camp. He paused a ways away, listening one last time for any potential threats. Sure enough, he caught sight of Technoblade's red cloak through the leaves. He sighed again. But it seemed like Techno was alone and safe. 

Alone. Dream wheeled around and made his way towards the cliff, his throat tightening. When planning their escape, he had felt the unspoken assumption that they would separate after they got out. It was harder to track two people, after all. And then everything had gone wrong -- his plan, Dream's plan, his fault -- it had all gone wrong and they had nearly died and George had died -- and Dream had remembered everything and lost everything and the idea of being alone, truly alone, was so terrifying that he had sobbed like a child and begged Techno not to leave him. And, for some reason, the Blade had decided to stay. 

If he thought Dream had left on his own, Techno ought to feel free of whatever obligation had kept them together so far. Dream breathed in deep as he emerged from the cover of the trees. He strode fearlessly to the edge of the cliff overlooking the river gorge and looked down. 

The water was a striking teal. A pale, thin beach stretched along the opposite shore. White foam showed the current to be quick and dangerous, even if he couldn't tell how deep it was. 

And it was a long way down.

Dream made sure his armor, weapons, and pack were strapped on securely. A fall from this height would definitely stun him, maybe kill him if he hit it just right -- but he wasn't sure it would kill him. The weight of his things would make sure he drowned, and better yet, make sure there was no chance of the current carrying his body further downstream for Techno to find. 

He blinked. The setting sun was painful in his eyes. "Fuck." 

He had blanked out again, this time mesmerized by the color and hypnotic flow of the water. He still wasn't quite convinced that he'd actually fall if he jumped. Every color was unnaturally vibrant in the golden light. He felt dull beside it.

He thought he heard a familiar voice call his name, but he was too focused on the task ahead to turn around or even match the voice to a name. He was probably imagining things -- his mind putting up some last, flimsy defense to save his life. Dream took off his mask and tucked it in the side of his pack. He took a step back, preparing for a running jump.

"What are you doing?"

Chapter Text

"What are you doing?"

Dream froze. He didn't want to turn around. He knew that voice.

Maybe it wasn't real. But if it was real, he couldn't bring himself to just ignore Techno and jump. He owed Techno more than that.

But he didn't want to turn around, because facing Techno and then jumping might be even worse.

What does it matter? he mocked himself. I'll end up in the same place either way. Plans change. He remembered their botched escape and laughed bitterly. Hadn't he learned that lesson by now?

"Dream?" Techno's voice was more hesitant this time. Dream realized how insane he must look, laughing to himself on the edge of a cliff. "What are you doing out here?"

Dream turned around. Techno's sword was drawn, his posture tense. The setting sun caught in his eyes, turning their burgundy into fiery red behind the pig mask. He would have looked terrifying, if Dream was afraid to die. He wasn't scared of Techno -- not when the cliff's edge was barely a meter behind him. Even Techno wouldn't be able to run the distance between them before he could jump.

Dream relaxed a little. "You're not supposed to be here."

"You're not supposed to be here," Techno retorted. "You were..."

The rest of his reply faded away. Dream could see Techno's mouth moving, hear him talking, hear himself responding. But he wouldn't have been able to repeat anything he'd just said or heard. It was like he was watching from outside of himself as he patched together arguments for the verbal battle. That him, the one who seemed to care, may as well have been a stranger. The argument, which was quickly becoming more heated, felt like a performance more than anything.

It wasn't real; none of it was real. He wasn't real. Why didn't Techno understand it didn't matter if he died? He knew what was going to happen and that made all of this noise beforehand so pointless. Nothing Techno could say would change the inevitable.

Dream watched himself back up a few steps, still talking. Please, he thought. End this. A cool wind gusted up from the ravine, a relief on the back of his neck that tempted him closer.

Techno took off his pig mask, shouting something. Dream didn't really register what he said, but he did see the tears.

That froze him in place. Techno was actually crying. Guilt twisted him inside out, disorienting him. He didn't have a clever response for this. I should have just jumped. This is cruel. 

With a huge effort, Dream forced himself back into the present moment. Or he tried to; he still didn't feel fully inside his own body. His lips felt numb. "It's OK, Techno."

"It is not OK!" Techno's voice was raw, anger and desperation twisting his features. Dream flinched. Techno reached out cautiously, making an effort to calm his voice. "Dream, just -- just get away from the edge, all right? Come down and we can talk about this."

"We've been talking." Dream felt his throat closing up, the ability to speak draining away. "There's nothing you can say."

"Nothing?"

"I'm sorry," Dream said. "Nothing you can say will change my mind. It's not your fault."

Techno stared at him, apparently out of arguments. He swallowed hard and took several deep breaths, visibly struggling to calm himself as his fist clenched and unclenched. Everything from the sword held useless in his hand to his intense gaze to his fighting stance screamed that he wanted to rush at Dream.

Dream felt another stab of guilt. The last thing he had wanted to do was hurt another person he cared about. Techno had done more for him than he had ever expected. Or deserved. And all he had been was a burden and a source of pain.

"I'm sorry," he repeated. He backed up until he could feel the edge of the cliff underneath his boot. He closed his eyes. "You should go. I don't want you to watch." 

"Wait. Wait! Don't jump, just -- " Techno cleared his throat, wiping a hand quickly over his face to clear his eyes of tears. He straightened, sheathed the sword, and squared his shoulders with a deep breath. "Let me do it."

"Let you..." Dream discovered that he could still feel fear, if not for himself. "Let you jump? What the hell? Why?!"

"No," Techno said. "I mean that if there's really nothing I can say or do to change your mind -- if you really want to die -- at least let me do it. Let me kill you."

Chapter Text

Dream's eyes widened. "Let you...but..."

"Let me do it," Techno said. "I'm 'the Blood God,' right?" He laughed sardonically. "Let me do what I do best."

Dream could only stare at him as he tried to collect his thoughts. This felt too surreal. "You were just...telling me not to jump. Now you want to kill me?"

"You said nothing will change your mind."

"Yeah, but why do you suddenly want me to die?" 

"I don't!" Techno's voice broke, but he composed himself quickly, blinking rapidly. "But...you're in pain, and...You're my friend. I don't want you to suffer."

"So, we're friends?" Dream said, with almost a smile. He quirked his fingers into quotation marks. "Not 'business partners working together for our mutual benefit'?"

That drew a slow, reluctant smile from Techno. "Yeah."

"So you killing me would be, what? A favor for a friend?" Dream laughed incredulously. "What the fuck kind of friend would I be if I made you kill your friend?"

"Dream, listen to me. You haven't thought this through," Techno said, his deep voice dropping even lower and taking on a slight lilt as he painted a picture with words. The hybrid's gravelly tone reminded Dream vaguely of piglin speech he'd overheard at markets. They would haggle with pitch and musicality as well as words, their passionate rhetoric completely indecipherable to the human ear yet oddly hypnotic. "Here's what's going to happen if you jump. That fall might not kill you. You could get lucky and hit your head on a rock and die instantly. Or the impact with the water might knock you out, and you would drown without waking up.

"But it might just hurt. A lot. You could break some bones and drown, in pain and bleeding out. Or worse, wash up somewhere and lie there, unable to move, until you die of exposure or blood loss. It would be slow, and lonely. If I hadn't found your trail, there would be no one to come look for you.

"It would be a terrible way to die."

Dream shivered. Techno continued, softer now, his quiet voice luring Dream a step closer, further from the edge. "I can do it quickly, Dream. I won't even use the sword. I'll snap your neck. It will be painless. And this way, at least..." He stopped as his voice shook, taking a breath. "At least I won't have to wonder where you are, what happened to you. I'll have a body."

"You...would do that? Really?" Dream asked in a small, hopeful voice. He just wanted it to be over. He was so tired. If Techno could promise a quick, painless end with less risk than the plunge off the ravine, then it would be over faster. And Techno would have all of Dream's supplies to sustain him on the road. That was good. That was one less thing for him to feel guilty about. Leaving Techno a body to bury meant Dream could at least give him closure, or something like it.

"Yeah," Techno said. He extended a hand. "It'll be quick. I promise."

Dream broke into a wide, lopsided smile. He tasted salt. "Thank you."

Techno beckoned him closer. "It's OK, Dream. Come here. It's gonna be OK."

Dream felt light with relief as he approached Techno. He shrugged off his pack to make it easier. The sun had nearly set, its deep red tones shading Techno's hair a darker pink and sharpening the shadows in the forest. Everything had a slightly unreal quality -- the shadows were too dark, the greens and greys and browns of the forest too bright. He felt like he was floating.

But Techno's hand on his shoulder felt real and solid. Dream's grin stretched impossibly wider until his cheeks hurt. He felt guilty about smiling when Techno was clearly upset, but he couldn't control the muscles in his face. "Thank you. Thank you. I'm sorry. Thank you, th -- "

"Hey." Techno silenced him with a quick hug. "Relax. It's fine. It's fine." It wasn't fine -- they both knew that -- but Dream appreciated the gesture anyway. Techno had been unfathomably patient with him this last week. 

Techno didn't move to break the embrace, and Dream relaxed the tiniest bit. His kindness stirred a strange mixture of guilt and affection in Dream's chest, making breathing difficult. For a long few seconds, all he wanted to do was cling to his friend and cry and hide away from reality in the warmth of being held.

But even the feeling of comfort -- as fleeting as it was -- triggered an unbearable wave of guilt. His soulmate was dead. George was gone, because of him, and here he was wishing to forget and be consoled. As if he deserved that. As if anything could soothe the kind of loss that broke minds. Dream shuddered and pulled away from Techno, shrinking in on himself. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"You don't need to -- " Techno sighed. "Dream, I forgive you. OK? Just -- just take off your axe and turn around."

Dream unbuckled his axe from his belt, tossing it to one side. He turned so that his back was to Techno. "Wait..." He turned again to face the sunset. It was dim enough now not to hurt his eyes, and peaceful enough to calm his racing heart. His body still stubbornly responded with fear despite his determination to die. It wasn't like he could simply overcome years of combat training that screamed not to turn his back to an opponent. He'd spent years outsmarting and outfighting people who wanted to end his life. Fitting that his old rival would finally be the one to take it.

"Why didn't you kill me before?" Dream asked, suddenly curious.

"Heh?"

"After the duel," Dream clarified. Techno had won the right to kill him that day, but had spared his life. It was that mercy, from the person he'd least expected to show mercy, that had eventually led Dream to trust the man. In a way, that decision had started all of this -- and before he died Dream wanted to know why.

"I...don't know," Techno said. "I guess...it was...It felt like a waste. You were good. It could have gone either way. I wouldn't have wanted you to kill me if you'd won. "

"You were supposed to kill me, though."

"Oh, I know they wanted me to," Techno said. "Maybe I just spared your life because I don't like authority."

"No, no, I mean you were supposed to kill me," Dream said. The symmetry of it sent a thrill up his spine. Why hadn't he seen it before? This was right. His shoulders finally relaxed. "You didn't then, but you were supposed to. And now you will! It was meant to be."

"I don't think that's how mercy works, Dream." Techno's hands settled on his shoulders. "I didn't spare your life just because I wanted to kill you later."

"This is mercy," Dream insisted. Techno growled something in the piglin language. It sounded like a curse. "What, don't you believe in destiny? Or whatever?"

"Destiny or whatever?" Techno muttered. "I wish. It would make this easier."

"You're still going to do it, right?"

"Yeah," Techno said. He sighed. "Just...tell me when. I promise it won't hurt."

"You're a good friend, Techno," Dream said. "You had my back, you didn't have to stay with me -- "

"Please," Techno interrupted, his voice strained. "This is hard enough."

Dream took a few measured breaths and closed his eyes. "OK. I'm ready." 

Chapter Text

Techno stepped in close, wrapping one arm around Dream's neck. Dream stiffened his muscles, knowing that the resistance would actually make it easier for Techno to snap his neck. Techno took his wrist in the other hand, pulling his arm behind his back and holding it. Dream winced. "Give me your other hand," Techno ordered.

Dream obeyed, allowing Techno to grasp both his wrists behind his back. "Just hurry up. I promise I won't fight you, if that's what you're worried about."

Without warning, the pressure on his neck tightened into a headlock and Techno twisted him around, maneuvering him towards the forest as he forced Dream to walk forward. Dream stumbled, confused. "What are you doing? You said it would be quick, you said -- "

"I said whatever would get you away from the edge," Techno growled in his ear. He marched an unresisting Dream into the treeline, back in the direction of their camp. "I'm not going to fucking kill you, Dream. You aren't thinking straight. You said you weren't real. You need help, you need to sleep and eat, not -- "

Dream twisted in Techno's grip, finding his arm and chomping down hard as he dropped his body weight. His teeth met leather bracers instead of flesh. Techno was ready for him, shifting to balance against Dream's struggling. "Dream, stop -- "

Dream snarled. He brought the heel of one foot down hard on Techno's boot and planted the other foot behind Techno's leg, using it as an anchor. Techno let out a very un-Techno-like yelp. He staggered and Dream used that moment to unbalance him, tripping Techno over his other foot. The hand around his wrists loosened and Dream broke free, throwing off the arm around his neck. But Techno grasped at his shirt as he fell, pulling Dream to the ground with him. 

They struggled, kicking up leaf litter in the gathering dark. "Dream!" Techno roared. "Stop!"

"Fuck...you," Dream gasped. He was fighting on instinct, flailing in the dark with no real plan. It was pure luck that his fist connected with Techno's stomach. Techno grunted in pain and Dream shot out of his weakened grip, rising to his feet and fleeing toward the cliff's edge. Adrenaline raced through his veins, bringing the kind of high he had learned to crave in the Pit. He was going to win. He was going to win, he was going to beat Technoblade --

The hybrid crashed into him from behind, sending him flying. Dream hit the ground with enough force to push the breath out of his body. For a second, it felt like he would never breathe again. Dream gasped in air and choked as he inhaled dirt. He kicked out, fighting the arms around his ankles. "Dream!" Techno panted. "Damn it, Dream, stop!"

"You're -- a -- liar," Dream hissed. He reached down and felt long hair. He tangled his fingers in it and yanked. The feeling of hair detaching from scalp was oddly satisfying. Technoblade yelled out a curse. Dream just wound his hand tighter, giving another cruel twist. "Let me go. Fuck you. Liar, liar -- "

Incredibly, Techno choked out a laugh. "I'm the liar. Right." A hand clamped down on his wrist. Sharp claws dug into his skin. Dream snarled and refused to let go. Then Techno's nails found that soft spot between his thumb and first finger. Dream shrieked and whipped his hand away. A chunk of Techno's hair came with it. Warm blood washed over Dream's hand -- it felt like Techno had ripped straight through the flesh. He scrambled backwards.

It was nearly full dark now; he couldn't see. He tried to locate the river by sound, but it was hard to hear over his own panting breath. Technoblade had no such problem. His eyes, adapted for the dimness of the nether, gave him a piglin's improved night vision. He clambered over a rock and easily dodged Dream's fist, catching his arm on the backswing and twisting it. "I've beaten you before, Dream, and I'll do it again."

Dream struggled, but Techno was well-rested, well-fed, and determined, while Dream's strength was flagging. He could barely remember why he was fighting. It was important to get to the river; he knew that. For...George. Was George at the river? He couldn't catch his breath. There was an arm around his neck, another around his chest. He kicked out but didn't hit anything except a rock that bruised his toe. George. I need to find George. Panic and confusion scattered his thoughts. Wasn't George -- gone? Why was Techno hurting him? Wasn't Techno his friend?

"Please," he gasped. He didn't even know what he was asking. 

The headlock loosened ever so slightly. Dream breathed a little easier. He and Technoblade were both breathing hard, filthy with dirt and blood. Blood pumped steadily from the wound in Dream's hand, burning a bright and distracting hole through his racing thoughts. Techno was on his knees, gripping Dream in a hold with his arm around his neck, Dream's back against Techno's chest and one arm twisted behind him. It was painful. Dream tried to use his legs for purchase, hoping to flip Techno or force himself out of the viselike grip. But the adrenaline high that had propelled him this far was wearing off. Techno merely tightened his grip again. "Dream. Dream. Stop."

"Or what?" Dream said. He giggled. "You'll kill me?"

Techno snorted. Dream could practically feel him rolling his eyes. Dream's giggle turned into wheezing laughter.

Once he started laughing, he couldn't stop. Techno rocked him through it as the uncontrollable laughter turned into sobs, Dream gasping and unable to catch his breath. There was no more force in Techno's grip, just enough tension to keep him secure in case he bolted for the river again. That grip softened into an embrace as Dream collapsed into him, his resistance draining away completely. Techno took his hand, holding it tightly. At first, Dream thought it was a gesture of comfort, until he realized Techno was putting pressure on the wound he'd made with those damn sharp nails.

The thought made him giggle -- and the cycle started over again, tears turning into sidesplitting laughter and back into sobs that shook his entire body. Wasn't crying supposed to make you feel better? Then why did every sob hurt on the way out? 

"...you in there?...Dream. Dream, can you hear me? Nod if you're listening..."

Dream nodded. He wondered how long Techno had been talking, trying to get through to him. "OK," Techno muttered. "OK. Um...well, I am no good at comforting people."

"You're -- you're f-f-fine," Dream managed to say. 

"Present circumstances would seem to indicate otherwise."

A strangled laugh escaped Dream, threatening to bubble over again. "Oh, no," Techno said. "OK. Uh, Dream, listen to me. I need you to breathe. Just breathe, OK?"

"Can't," Dream whispered. His sides seized -- with tears or laughter, he couldn't even tell anymore. He spit out a glob of mud. "I can't, I can't."

"Yes, you can," Techno said. "Match your breathing to mine. OK? Just try that for me." He paused when Dream didn't respond. "You don't have to talk. Just nod if you're listening."

Dream nodded. "OK," Techno said. He took a deep breath. "OK."

Dream tried to imitate him and coughed. That brought on a coughing fit, but it passed after a few minutes. He could feel Techno's chest rising and falling against his back, could feel the exhale faintly on his head. His own quick, shallow breaths sounded loud and harsh. Almost imperceptibly, his breathing slowed as he tried to match Techno's pace. Gradually, he began to calm down, the delirium fading as his breath steadied. 

Technoblade gave a long, relieved sigh, relaxing a little. He let his chin rest on the top of Dream's head. "You're bleeding," he said. "Hand wounds are a problem. I've got half a healing potion left back at camp. If I get up, can I trust you not to run for the nearest cliff?"

"Why?" Dream said hollowly. "Why'd you stop me?"

Techno let out another long sigh. "I'll take that as a no."

"You weren't supposed to find me," Dream said. His voice was hoarse. "I can't believe I listened to you. I actually let you disarm me...and I thought I was doing you a favor, giving you my pack and the axe. I'm such an id -- "

"A favor?" Technoblade growled. "You listened to me because you wanted to die. So it was easy to convince you that I also wanted you to die. But I don't want you to die, so we are going to stay here until you agree not to kill yourself."

"Fine. I agree."

"Somehow I'm not convinced."

"What do you want me to say?" Dream said tiredly. "I don't want to lie or trick you again. If I don't want to today, that doesn't mean I won't tomorrow. It's only been a week, Techno." His voice cracked. "I have to live the rest of my life like this. Please let me go."

Techno's arms tightened. "I can't know what it's like to lose someone like that," he said. "Maybe it would be mercy. But I can't. Maybe it's selfish of me, but I don't want to lose my friend."

"It's not like you'll be alone," Dream argued. "You'll have your -- "

"My soulmate, I know," Techno said. "Somewhere. I know I know them, or my soul does, but right now they're a stranger. We might never meet. Or...one of us could die first." Dream felt the hitch in Techno's breath. Something hot dripped onto his forehead. That was either blood or tears, both of which would be his fault. The familiar guilt twisted his stomach. "If I ever do meet them, it'll be partly thanks to you. I don't know why you trusted me, but we escaped that place together."

"I don't know why you trusted me, either," Dream murmured. 

"Heh." Techno laughed a little, but his voice shook with intensity. "I never had friends in the Pit before you...just people who wanted to use me for my skills. I have a soulmate somewhere, but until I meet them -- if I ever do -- you are the only friend I have left in this world, Dream. I don't want to lose my only friend."

"I've been a liability," Dream whispered. He could barely get the words out; his throat felt stuck, his tongue heavy. Maybe it was the realization that now George was dead, Techno was his only friend too. "I didn't want to get you killed, too."

"It wasn't your fault."

"It was my plan. He died trying to save me."

"You aren't responsible for his -- you know what? No. I tried to reason with you before and it didn't work. I'm not having this argument again," Techno said. Dream could vaguely remember what he was talking about. Their conversation on the edge of the cliff felt like years ago. "I'm going to cry now. If you won't listen to reason, maybe emotional manipulation will work."

Dream laughed in spite of himself. He felt Techno chuckle, too. "I don't know what else to say, I don't know what to do, I just..." Techno was losing his composure, crying openly now. "I don't want you to die. If you can't promise not to try again, can you at least -- come to me before you do it? I can talk to you or -- I don't know...please."

Dream twisted around in Techno's hold and put his free arm around his neck, hugging him awkwardly. It was uncomfortable with his injured hand and the cuts and bruises from their fight, but he tried to press as close to Techno as he could. "I'm sorry," he managed to say and then he couldn't talk at all.

Techno hugged him back tightly. "It's OK." Dream shook his head. "Dream, you haven't done anything wrong, I'm not mad, you just -- you scared me." His voice broke. Dream could feel him shaking, his breathing ragged with tears. "But it's OK. All right? It's gonna be OK."

Dream had a feeling Techno was trying to reassure himself more than Dream. Dream didn't think he would ever be OK again, a soul lost without its mate, but he could at least try to live for the only friend he had left. He nodded into Techno's shoulder. 

"OK," Techno muttered. He sniffed and took a few deep breaths, trying to get his tears under control. "OK. Come on."

Dream rose clumsily to his feet, following Techno's lead. Techno instructed him to put pressure on his bleeding hand and he obeyed, allowing Techno to grip his arm above the elbow. Techno was still wary of him. Dream couldn't blame him, although he was too tired at this point to even think about trying something. He let Techno lead him back to the ravine, took up his discarded pack and axe when told to (Techno's hand still firm on his arm), and followed the hybrid's superior night vision back to their camp.

He drank the healing potion when Techno handed it to him, but he was so exhausted and dissociated from his own body that he couldn't feel any effects. Everything was just numb. Techno took his arm again and steered him through the woods. He clearly had a destination in mind, and Dream put his dwindling mental energy into keeping up and not tripping over anything.

He did notice when they emerged from the forest onto a road, but the smooth ground didn't improve his coordination. He stumbled once, then twice, and the hand on his arm became a hand around his waist as Techno steadied him, putting Dream's arm around his shoulders. To anyone passing, they probably looked like a pair of drunks wandering home for the night. 

"We're almost there," Techno said after a little while. "I can see their lights."

Dream couldn't see anything, but he was concentrating on the ground under his feet more than their surroundings. He was starting to fall asleep standing up. The only thing keeping him awake was the thought of how much Techno would tease him tomorrow if he ended up having to be carried to wherever they were going. 

He must have fallen asleep on his feet at one point, because the next thing he noticed was the bright orange light of torches and the smell of hay. A village? Techno let go of him and he swayed on his feet but managed to stay upright. A door creaked open and then Techno was taking his arm again, leading him forward away from the lights and into a large, cool space that smelled mainly like sweet hay and a little like cow shit.

It poked at a long-buried memory, something from before the Pit. There were no details, just sensations -- hay, something soft, a woman smiling, and the sense of being happy and well-cared for. 

Gold buttons, Dream remembered suddenly. Gold buttons on a red coat. He had been fascinated by the raised design on the cold metal, running his fingers over them again and again. The memory tumbled into a dream -- a true dream, not the cold emptiness that had replaced his dreamland since George died. He slept.

Chapter Text

"Hey! What the hell are you doing here?"

Techno woke up, far too early, to the sight of a pitchfork levelled at his face. I probably should have expected this. 

He gave the farmer a death stare. The farmer, an older woman with flyaway grey hair and patched overalls, looked suddenly unsure of her decision to wake the sleeping man. "Well, I was sleeping," Techno said dryly. At least Dream was still there, and still asleep. "Can I help you?"

"You can leave," she said. "I won't have vagrant trash trespassing in my barn."

"Sorry," Techno said, not sorry at all. "Nobody was using this haystack last night. My friend is...ill, and I was tired of sleeping on the ground. Here..." He fished around in his pockets, trying not to disturb a sleeping Dream. He had a considerable amount of gold on him, but he didn't want to show her just how much. His hand closed around the golden hoop Dream had torn out of his earlobe last night. It was a little bent and bloody, sure, and the clasp was broken, but the gold was good. He tossed it to the farmer. "Rent."

"This isn't a boarding house," she grumbled, but she examined the earring with interest. "If he's sick, I don't want you around."

"It's not contagious." Techno yawned wide, showing off his tusks. "He's just...recovering. I'd appreciate if you didn't disturb us; he needs the rest."

The farmer muttered something about this being her barn. But she eyed Techno speculatively, taking note of his remaining earrings. "There's no inn in this village," she said. "I've got a spare room, though, if you've got more gold."

Techno's ears perked up. "Does this room have a comfortable bed? With goose-down pillows, perhaps? Silken sheets? Room service?"

She smiled. "What the fuck does this place look like? It's a bed. My partner did the quilt, but it's their worst one if you ask me."

"Oh, a quilt? Why didn't you say so before?" Techno said with a broad grin. "I'll take it."

"Let me talk to my partner," she said. "I'll be right back."

Techno watched her leave with an internal sigh, sure she would come back with some exorbitant fee that he would have to haggle down. If all they needed was money or food, they could have robbed the place and left. But what he really needed was a place to rest and lie low while he kept an eye on Dream. They hadn't really stopped running and fighting since the Pit, over a week ago now. And two extra pairs of eyes on Dream couldn't hurt.

Dream hadn't stirred from where he slept, curled up by Techno's side like a cat. He had leaves and dirt in his hair, and his face was streaked with dried mud, blood, and tear tracks. Techno must look a mess as well. What had the farmer called them? Vagrants, ruffians? Something like that. The description fit.

It was still dark. Techno closed his eyes while he waited, trying to nap until he absolutely had to deal with whatever problem the farmers could come up with. His eyes still felt hot and swollen, both from the old black eye and from crying more than he had since he was a child.

He had found Dream on the cliff's edge and instantly realized what he meant to do, and the bone-deep fear was worse than anything he'd ever felt during a fight. It was the helplessness that terrified him. There was no enemy to fight; the greatest danger to his friend was himself.

So he'd changed the terms of engagement. If there was no fight, he'd make one and cheat to win.

The only reason he'd managed to get Dream away from the ravine was that Dream wasn't exactly, entirely sane right now. It had made him easier to manipulate. They could worry about saving his sanity after saving his life. If that was even possible. What did losing your soulmate do to a person's mind? What about their soul?

Techno had no experience with grief, so he couldn't judge whether what he saw was normal or not. He assumed others took shelter in the comfort of family and friends after a devastating loss like that. But for people like him and Dream, who had no one else, the loss of a soulmate probably cut even deeper. 

Techno wished he could meet his soulmate, or at least remember their conversations in the dreamland. Did they have any advice? He'd fucked up, Techno knew he'd fucked up, he just didn't know what to do. Emotional connection wasn't something he was good at. Like his stubborn, prideful refusal to call Dream his friend in the Pit, too scared or too proud to risk the pain of betrayal. In his defense, it wasn't something he'd ever been allowed.  And then there hadn't been the time but maybe he should have made time, forced the issue and at least tried more to help when he saw Dream struggling because he'd left it nearly too late -- 

The farmer re-entered the barn before Techno could spiral deeper into guilt. "They're making up the room now," she said. "You can pay by the week, but you have to bathe."

"Does that include food?" Techno asked, ignoring the bath comment. 

"We won't wait on you hand and foot," she warned. "This is a business. The spare room's for seasonal workers during harvest. If you make yourselves useful around the place, you're entitled to a seat at the table."

"Fair enough," he said. "How much are you asking?"

She ended up wanting the rest of the earrings on his right ear for a week, an absurd price. Techno was almost too tired to argue, but his jewelry was a matter of pride. It was all nether-made. He managed to argue the price down to one large earring plus one emerald per week. The smaller earrings were more valuable to him personally, a token of sentimentality that he allowed himself. They would have to be starving on the side of the road somewhere before he would consider trading them away. 

"You should melt those down," he advised as he handed over two emeralds and another earring. He wanted to hide out for at least two weeks, enough time for any rumors of their presence at the nearby arena to die down. By then, any search for them would have moved on. Hopefully. "The style is unique. People might think you've stolen them." People might think you got them from a piglin hybrid on the run.

She rolled her eyes a little. She probably thought he'd stolen them. He noticed she hadn't asked their names or where they were from. Being rich was nice. It made people a lot less curious. He could only hope she and her partner weren't planning to murder them in their sleep for the rest of their money. He'd find some way to lock the bedroom door. He wasn't about to trust Dream to sleep in shifts, not for a long time. 

"Come on." The farmer beckoned him out of the barn and left.

Technoblade looked down at Dream, who hadn't moved. Techno hated to wake him. It was some unreasonable hour of the morning, when only farmers and the vagabonds squatting in their barns were awake. He touched Dream's shoulder. "Hey, Dream."

Dream didn't respond; he was out cold. Techno sighed. Dream had a death grip on his cloak, which Techno now unclasped and draped over him. He slipped an arm under his shoulders and another under his knees. He lifted Dream carefully, resisting the temptation to throw him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. They were both still wearing all their gear, and as dead weight he was heavy.

At least he wasn't carrying Dream's body. Techno's throat tightened. OK, maybe he shouldn't complain.

Well, he might complain a little. Whenever Dream woke up. 

He clomped down the dirt path towards the farmhouse, following the white of the farmer's kerchief in the gloom. A bright rectangle of orange light appeared. "Go on, girl," said a rough voice, and then a huge white something was barreling out the door straight towards him. Techno froze. A loud woof identified the monster as a dog.

It circled Techno, its tail wagging slightly side to side as it sniffed his boots. It looked even bigger and fluffier up close. Techno held very still. Apparently deciding he was not a threat, the beast whuffed softly and ambled back towards the house. Techno followed.

Inside, he was immediately accosted by the first farmer's partner. Their rough voice was surprising coming from their small, thin body. "Shoes at the door, and you're to bathe immediately. We're keeping the filth to a minimum."

"I thought I passed the sniff test," Techno deadpanned. 

The farmer chuckled. "The dog isn't the one sweeping the floors or doing the washing. Shoes."

Techno did his best not to get annoyed. "A little hard to get those off right now."

"Oh, that's the other thing," the farmer said, putting a hand on their hip. "Are you sure he's not contagious?"

"He's not." Techno yawned pointedly, showing off his tusks and teeth again. "I was told something about a bed. And a quilt."

"This way," the first farmer interrupted before her partner could speak, beckoning Techno forward. "Don't mind my partner. They're always a bit of a dick in the morning."

"Hannah, I swear, you'd better clean the -- "

"I'll get the floors, don't worry." 

The spare room was up a flight of stairs, with a sloping attic ceiling. Some boxes were crowded into one corner. Hannah pulled the quilt and covers back from the double bed. "Here. Don't get his shoes on the sheets."

"I think the sheets are a lost cause, because I fully intend to pass out here without taking a bath," Techno said. He laid Dream down on the bed. The farmer bustled in beside him, pulling Dream's feet off the bed and beginning to unlace his boots.

That triggered something instinctual in him, a fight response deeper than rational thought. A low rumble filled his chest, and Techno pushed her hand away. "Don't touch him."

"Hey!" her partner snapped from the doorway. Techno's head whipped up, his body tensing. He bared his teeth. They both backed up, looks of alarm on their faces.

Techno had to take a few seconds to collect himself. His piglin brain was shouting danger, protect the herd, protect your brother. The predators of the world always picked off the weakest first, and Dream was so vulnerable right now.

"I'm sorry," he said. He was so tired, on edge from everything that had happened. "That was rude of me. I'm not going to hurt you."

"She wasn't going to hurt your friend," the farmer bristled. "She was just trying to help."

"I know," Techno said. "I reacted badly, it's just that..." Why the hell was he nearly crying again? He needed sleep. "He's been...he nearly died, and -- I just...I'm sorry."

"It's all right," Hannah said. "I understand. And I should have asked first. We'll leave you alone."

She turned to go. "Is it serious?" her partner asked.

Techno nodded. "Is he going to die?" they asked.

"Ponk!" scolded Hannah.

Techno shrugged, feeling helpless and hating it. I don't know.

"I'm sorry," Ponk conceded. "I hope he recovers."

They were both hovering in the doorway. They seemed to expect a response. Techno unstuck his throat. "Thanks."

"We might be able to help you," Hannah offered. "We don't have any potions, but I'm good with herbs, homemade medicines, things like that."

"It's...not that kind of illness."

"Well?" Ponk asked. "What's his illness, then?"

Techno debated on how much to tell them. He needed to give the pair enough for them to trust him, but he wanted to respect Dream's privacy. Fuck that, he decided. Dream wasn't himself, and besides, he'd tried to respect his privacy before. That had nearly killed him.

"Grief," he said. "His soulmate died."

His hosts looked at each other, shock and horror on their faces. "I'm sorry," Hannah said. "That's...terrible."

"So young, too," Ponk muttered.

Techno was forcibly reminded of Dream's plea to die, the despair in his voice as he'd said he had to live the rest of his life like this. Tears blurred his vision despite his stubborn attempts to hold them back. "I don't know if people survive this," Techno said dully. "He's not himself. When he wakes up, do not leave him alone, I don't care what he says. He can talk anyone into anything. Don't listen to him."

"All right, then," Hannah said soberly. Ponk nodded. "Well...we need to get to work."

"See you," Ponk said. Their voice was still gruff, but their tone had mellowed the tiniest bit. The pair left, pulling the door to. 

Techno wiped his eyes. "Maybe I should try emotional manipulation more often," he said to Dream, trying to smile. "If I'd known all I had to do was cry to get what I want, I'd have been doing this for years." He laughed shakily, but his heart wasn't in it.

He took off Dream's boots and set them by the door before sitting to take off his own. A cold black nose pushed the door open and suddenly Techno was face-to-face with the small polar bear masquerading as a giant white dog. He glared. "Just come right in, why don'tcha?"

Dogs clearly did not understand sarcasm, because this one strolled right by him and jumped up on the bed. Onto Techno's side of the bed.

He muttered a string of half-hearted piglin curses as he dumped their packs by the shoes and began the process of taking off his armor. If someone was going to stab them in their sleep, he decided, leather armor wouldn't stop them. And he was tired of sleeping in armor. It was uncomfortable. Dream didn't stir as Techno moved to his side, undoing the straps of his armor and trying to get it off him without waking him up.

He needn't have worried; Dream was still dead to the world. Techno pulled the covers over him. Now for his side of the bed. He marched around the bed and eyed the dog. "Down, dog."

To his surprise, the dog heaved a sigh and stood, hopping down from the bed. Techno got under the covers, sighing in pleased relief at the feeling of lying down in a real bed. Then the dog jumped back up, its paw smashing his foot. She stood there and looked at him expectantly. "There's no room, dog," he complained. "Go away."

Dream mumbled something. Techno turned over. Dream had curled up on his side, and his forehead was furrowed in his sleep. He mumbled again, kicking a leg out at some phantom enemy. Techno laid a hand on his shoulder and watched him slowly relax back into a calm sleep. The dog took the opportunity of his distraction to reclaim a spot on the bed. 

Now wedged between Dream and the dog, Techno tried half-heartedly to push the dog away. It just interpreted that as a gesture of affection, shoving its large, annoying head under his hand. "It's a good thing you're soft," Techno grumbled. And warm. And, arguably, better-smelling than him. He sighed and tugged some covers back from the dog, making himself comfortable.

Dream, still asleep, moved towards the warmth, reaching out and catching Techno's shirt in a fist that refused to let go. Techno put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer. This way, he reasoned, he would wake up if Dream decided to try slipping away in the middle of the night again.

And this was nice. Maybe it was the dog on his other side, but sleeping like this scratched at something buried deep in his brain, half instinct and half childhood memory. This was how piglin siblings slept, the children of one litter in a cuddle pile that provided a sense of security and strengthened family bonds. He'd had something like that, for a little while. Not with blood siblings, and not for long, but it was one of the few warm memories from a childhood in the Pit. Techno drifted off quickly, eager to escape to the dreamland and forget the day's problems. For a little while.

Dream woke to something soft, white, and fluffy pressed against his face. His arm was also draped over the fluff cloud. He stretched his fingers through it, confused. Was he still asleep? He remembered fluffy white hair that darkened into brown, the warmth of a smile. Gold buttons.

But that was a dream. Or was it a memory? Was any of this real?

The fluff cloud moved, raising a head to look at him. The dog nosed Dream's face, leaving a cold, wet spot on his cheek. Hesitantly, he petted its ears. They were floppy and soft and felt real, but Dream had no idea how he'd gotten here. His lungs hurt with every breath like they were full of glass shards, his throat was sore, and his eyes felt hot. He had that dazed feeling of having overslept.

He closed his eyes again and scratched behind the dog's ear, using the sensation to chase the memory he'd found. It was maddeningly just out of reach. All he had were vague impressions -- white hair, gold buttons, a laugh...

The dog rose onto its feet and hopped down from the bed. Oh. He was on a bed. Dream sat up, taking in his surroundings with growing confusion. He was lying on a double bed, covered with a patchwork quilt, and not wearing his shoes or any of his armor. The sloped ceiling had a single window set at the very top, letting in the bright white light of mid-afternoon. The door opposite him creaked as the dog pawed it open, revealing a darkened hallway. With the door open, he could hear faint voices. One, a deep monotone, sounded familiar. Techno? 

He swung his legs out of bed. The floor felt solid enough under his feet, but he still wasn't convinced any of this was real. A small wooden crate served as a bedside table, the metal pitcher on top of it sweating droplets of water. Dream swiped one finger along the rim. It came away wet.

He traced a smile on the side, then wiped it away. His fingers left muddy smudges on the metal.

"Hey," said a familiar voice. Techno stood in the doorway. "You're awake. How are you feeling?"

Dream just stared at him, his bewilderment only increasing. Techno wore a wide-brimmed straw hat, and his typical mask and braid were nowhere to be seen. Had he cut his hair, or just hidden it under the ridiculous hat? He wasn't in armor, either -- he was wearing overalls and no shirt, leaving his arms and shoulders bare. If only he were wearing boots, he would have been the picture-perfect country bumpkin. But, stranger still, he was wearing only socks.

He looked like a completely different person. The only hint that this was the Technoblade Dream knew was the sword belted at his waist. What kind of fever dream was this?

Technoblade laughed. "You should see the look on your face right now. Don't you like my new disguise?" he said, hooking his thumbs in the shoulder straps. "I've gone from Blood God to potato farmer. Oh, here." He pulled a clay cup from one of the many pockets on the overalls and crossed to Dream, filling it from the pitcher. "I brought you some water, forgot about cups though."

Dream took it from him with a nod of thanks. He sipped at first, but soon drained the cup and poured himself a new one. Techno sat down beside him. Dream gulped down that cup and was halfway through a third when Techno put a hand on his arm. "Don't make yourself sick."

Dream nodded. His stomach was empty, and he could feel the water sloshing around in there unpleasantly. He returned to sipping. For a few minutes, they just sat there in companionable silence. 

"Not talking again?" Techno asked. Dream looked down, staring at his reflection in the cup of water. "That's OK; you don't have to. You probably have a few questions, though. Heh." Techno chuckled. "We passed some small farms and villages yesterday, so I thought we could borrow a haystack to sleep in for the night. I ended up renting a spare room for a couple weeks instead. We just have to bathe on a regular basis. Difficult, I know, but I think we can manage it."

Dream smiled a little. "The plumbing's actually broken right now," Techno said. "I took a bath in the creek; there's a pool upstream of the pasture. Speaking of which, I have your peasant yokel disguise ready. If...if you're up to it?" 

The idea of being clean was enticing. Dream nodded. "All right then," Techno said. "Here, stand up." Dream obeyed, frowning as Techno stripped the sheets. "I've been told I have to do our laundry," he said by way of explanation. "Ponk's the grumpy one who hates dirt; Hannah's the nice one who grows the flowers. I told them to just call us Pink and Green."

Dream snorted. Techno bundled up the sheets and quilt. "The only thing I told them about us was about your soulmate," he said bluntly. "No details, just that...he died, and that you might try to trick them into leaving you alone so you can kill yourself. Seeing as how I don't want that to happen, I thought I could use their help keeping an eye on you. So don't try it."

His candidness made Dream blink in surprise. He shook his head. I'm not going to. He wanted to reassure Technoblade, but his chest felt too tight, his tongue too heavy. Instead, he reached out, grabbing Techno's hand and squeezing it. 

"OK," Techno said quietly. He squeezed back, then let go. "OK." He picked up the bundle of sheets. "Let's go do some laundry, then."

Downstairs, a pile with towels, clothes, and soap sat on the bottom step, clearly prepared for him. Dream picked it up and followed Technoblade out into the bright, hot sunlight, shading his eyes. Both their shoes sat on the back step, which became a cobblestone pathway. He smelled roses on a light breeze. The place was full of them -- roses of all colors trained up trellises and bloomed from fragrant bushes. He picked a cornflower from the side of the path, twirling it idly between his fingers as they walked.

Something about the place loosened the tension in his chest. Its unexpected beauty was disarming. Part of it was the fact that Techno, one of the more paranoid people he'd ever met, seemed confident that the farm was safe. I wonder where the nearest village is. There was something he wanted to check. 

That thought brought the abrupt realization that he was planning for the future. Something beyond their stay here -- something long-term. He stopped on the path, suddenly dizzy. How far ahead? He could barely conceptualize a couple weeks, much less imagine being alive a month, six months, a year from now. He tried, but his mind kept running up against a wall. Just the thought of a future beyond a year away triggered a wave of existential dread that had him bent double, breathing deeply as he tried not to pass out. 

"Dream?" Techno sounded worried.

Dream squeezed his eyes shut. It doesn't matter, it doesn't matter, don't think about it. He was going to take a bath. That was his future right now. Scrubbing this dirt off, and maybe watching Technoblade attempt to do laundry. Techno had probably never done laundry in his life. That would be entertaining to watch. And then...then...

No, that was enough for now. Just...a bath. Laundry. That was all.

He straightened up, coming face to face with a worried Techno. "Do you need a minute?" Techno asked. "Actually..." He pulled a smushed half-roll of bread from his pocket. "I should've realized, you haven't eaten yet today. Here."

Dream took the roll. He didn't feel hungry, but he took a bite to make Techno feel better. His eyes widened -- either it was exceptionally good or he was hungrier than he'd thought, because it tasted amazing.

They kept walking, Techno talking aimlessly about the rest of the farm, Dream devouring the rest of the roll. They arrived at the creek, and Techno was cursing as he tried to figure out the washboard, and Dream was scrubbing at the blood under his fingernails, and another part of his future was filling in, and that was fine, that was all right.

For now, that was all right. He was all right. For now.

Chapter Text

I'm not abandoning this story, I have just been busy! 

Something to note about the different endings is, this fic has been a very roundabout way for me to vent my saltiness towards c!Philza, lol. As such, nobody dies in the different endings, at least not permanently. I haven't tagged it for character death. Just in case you were hoping to read about a suicide and would be mad if no one died, haha. There will still be plenty of angst and sadness don't worry.

If someone wants to request a new story or chapter where Dream does go through with it, I might write that too...

Chapter Text

At the dinner table, Dream let Techno do most of the talking. Well, all of the talking. Everything was a bit blurry, still; talking was hard and it was easier to focus on just one thing at a time. He might have made a few sounds or answered some questions -- maybe he nodded or shook his head -- but it was hard to remember. He was still in a daze.

Dream let his attention be absorbed by the food. The bread was light, fluffy, and tasted fresh. The meal was a stew with beef and mushrooms. They filled their cups from a glass water pitcher in the middle of the table. Dried herbs hung in bunches from the ceiling, making the air aromatic. It had a cozy feeling to it, and it was definitely the best food he'd had in a long time.

Luckily, neither Hannah or Ponk were particularly talkative. Whatever Techno had paid them, it seemed to have been enough to silence questions like Who are you? and Where did you come from? But the quiet between talk wasn't awkward or cold. It felt calm, like they didn't need to talk to appreciate each others' company.

This was fine. When he was with other people, he could hold himself together. He'd gotten past the existential crisis he'd had by the stream, and he felt clean and full of good food. He was with a friend, a fluffy dog, and two seemingly nice people who had gone to some effort to make him welcome and comfortable.

He still wanted to die.

It sat there in his chest like a lead weight, and whenever he let his attention wander, one repetitive, intrusive thought crept in: I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. It was just that, over and over.

He wished George could see this place and meet Technoblade. He smiled a little at the thought. How the hell would that encounter go?

Dream jumped a little when Techno touched his arm. "Hey," Techno said. "Didn't mean to startle you. You done?"

Dream looked down at his food. His bowl was empty, but he didn't recall finishing it. He nodded.

"Well...I think there's still some stuff they want us to do around the place," Techno said. "I volunteered you for dishwashing."

Hannah and Ponk had left the table. Dream hadn't even noticed them go. That wasn't like himself. Normally, he was attentive to his surroundings as though it were a matter of life and death -- because it usually was. The old him would have tracked the movements of two strangers with unknown motivation and intentions, talked to them to try to learn about them and assess if they were a threat. He could have played it charming and funny, or maybe earnest and helpful. Dream could put on any mask he needed.

He trusted Techno to handle them, though. That, too, was a new thing. Trusting someone.

Dream got up and collected the dishes, giving no outward signs of the guilt and shame that crashed down on him as he realized yet another way he burdened his friend. Not only with his pain, but with the worry of keeping him alive and watching out for him. Techno practically had to babysit him. Dream was a wreck. He couldn't watch Techno's back like this; he could barely function.

The hiss of boiling water brought his attention back to the task at hand. Since the hot water was broken, Dream had had to heat some water in a tea kettle and mix it with cold to do the dishes in. He finished that now, laying them out to dry and wiping his hands.

"Great," Hannah said from the doorway. "Sorry about the water. Ponk needs some parts from the village to fix it, but they're not in stock yet."

When Dream didn't fill the silence, Hannah reached into her bag and pulled out a brush and a comb. "Do you want to brush the dog? I usually do it, but I don't want to deal with the hair today."

Dream nodded. Brushing the dog would be good. Dogs didn't talk and wouldn't expect him to, either. "This way," Hannah said. "We brush her outside in the back yard."

Once he started the task, he realized why. The dog had seemingly infinite white fluff that got absolutely everywhere. At least she held still for brushing, appearing to enjoy the attention. It was repetitive and calming, allowing Dream to escape to a headspace where he could forget everything else. He gently worked through tangles and brushed out burrs and leaves, petting the dog behind the ears as praise for holding still. He slipped deeper into the meditative space, his thoughts focused on nothing in particular.

The memory approached him with the same calm. White hair, something red. He was sleepy, being carried. Metal buttons pressed uncomfortably into his side, and he grumbled and shifted around, reaching arms around the person's neck. She murmured something and adjusted him so that he was more comfortable. Dream sighed and laid his head on her shoulder, leaning his forehead against the horns that curled through pale hair.

Dream blinked. That was new. He closed his eyes, but nothing else came to him. He must have been very young in that memory. Dream opened his eyes, rolling a pinch of white dog hair thoughtfully between his thumb and forefinger. He added horns to his mental catalogue of things he remembered about the mystery woman. Maybe he should write them down -- that might jog something loose.

The dog bumped his hand with her nose, silently asking him to continue brushing. Dream smiled and ran the brush over her a few more times before going back inside.

She followed him upstairs to the spare room, where Dream found a pair of soft nightclothes laid out on a chair by the bed. Technoblade was already wearing his, a lantern on a crate lighting his side of the room. He had his knees up with a book propped open. Without the hat, Dream could see that he hadn't cut his long hair; it lay around his shoulders in an unraveling braid. "Is that dog going to steal my side of the bed again?" he asked dryly. Dream tried to shoo the dog out of the room, but Techno waved a hand. "Nah, just leave it."

Dream changed and crawled under the covers, turning his back to Techno. He had done barely anything today, but he felt exhausted. The dog hopped up behind him, weighing the mattress down. "Dog," said Techno warningly. The dog curled up on the end of the bed rather than the middle, laying herself along their feet. Techno sighed. "That's acceptable, I suppose."

Techno read for a little longer while Dream stared into the dimness on his side of the room. He wasn't sure how long he laid awake there, but he had a feeling Technoblade was trying to wait until he fell asleep to let his guard down enough for sleep himself. Dream was the kind of tired that ate at his bones but wouldn't let him sleep. The longer he stayed awake, the harder he tried to fall asleep, the darker the room got, and the more his mind spiraled.

Eventually, Techno turned off the lantern and put his book down with a soft thump. The covers rustled as he laid down. Dream choked on his jealousy, screwing his eyes shut tight. Of course Techno had no issue falling asleep; why would he? The envy was a poison, curling hot in his stomach. Guilt purged it an instant later. Just because he was miserable, he wanted his friend to be, too? The only person left who cared about him?

If he really cared about me he'd have let me die.

That wasn't true; he knew it wasn't true, but that didn't soften the sting of grief and resentment and guilt and affection and every other emotion overwhelming him right now. He felt tears building up. He just couldn't process it all. He was too tired.

He slipped out of bed and sat on the floor, leaning against the bed and breathing his way through it so he wouldn't wake up Techno. Techno was with his soulmate, probably. Dream didn't want to intrude.

"Dream?"

Dream hid his head in his arms. The bed creaked. "Dream? Are you there?"

Dream made a noise in the back of his throat. He heard Techno let out a breath of relief. His companion leaned over his side of the bed, looking down at him. "For a second I thought you'd disappeared again," Techno said. He sounded relieved, if mildly annoyed. "What are you doing?"

Dream wiped his face. "Dream," Techno said, something kinder in his voice. Dream had forgotten that Techno had better night vision than him, and could probably see him crying even if he was being quiet. "You don't have to -- hide, all right? If you cry, it won't bother me. You should try and sleep."

I've been trying! Dream wanted to scream, but his voice still wouldn't work.

"Come back to bed," Techno said. "It's pointless to cry on the floor. You may as well be comfortable."

That got him a shaky laugh from Dream. "C'mon," Techno said, moving back over to his side. "Before the dog takes your spot."

Dream got back under the covers and lay there staring at the ceiling. For a minute, it seemed like the tears had abated. It was more comfortable here, and it was a relief to know he wasn't bothering Technoblade. But as soon as he started to drift off, the tightness in his chest and the strangling at the back of his throat returned. He wanted to sleep but he didn't want to, because sleep meant either dreams about happy times he couldn't remember or just the blank and lonely void. Dream bit down hard on his knuckles.

"Dream..." Techno's voice was soft. The gentleness cracked Dream's control. A shaky breath left him. "Hey," Techno said, touching his shoulder hesitantly. Dream sobbed out loud, once. Techno sighed. "Come here."

Dream let himself be pulled into a hug, or maybe he was the one who reached for Techno with the desperation of a drowning man. He hid his face against Techno's chest and cried. It hurt just as much as the first night he'd woken up after the Pit. Maybe it always would. He had expected to die, not have to learn how to live with this grief.

"It's OK," Techno said. "Just don't hide like that. I'd rather you wake me up than not know where you are." He patted Dream's back, a little awkwardly, but the kind gesture soothed something in Dream's soul nonetheless. He was not alone. He was not being a burden; Techno did not hate him. "I'm so sorry, Dream. I can't imagine -- I don't know what to say. I'm no good at this," Techno muttered. "You're OK...Shh. Shh, it's OK. Try and sleep, we're safe here. It's gonna be OK."

Dream really, really wanted to believe him. He wasn't OK, he was not going to be OK -- but he did feel safe here. Techno was warm, and he was tracing fingers through Dream's hair and Dream felt safe here. His breathing eased, just a little. Eventually, he fell asleep. The nothingness where his and George's dreamland used to be was icy, as always, but he reminded himself that when he woke up he would be warm and not alone. He hugged that knowledge close as he curled up inside his head, inside the darkness, and waited out another night. It kept him sane.

When Techno woke up, Dream was still curled up beside him, his head resting on Techno's shoulder with Techno's arm around his waist. The dog, somehow, had wormed her way in between them and was lying with most of herself draped over Techno's legs. The dog's head lay on his stomach. He gave her a stern look, which she returned with a prick of her ears and a yawn. Techno sighed and let his head flop back onto the pillow, dozing until Dream woke up.

Things continued like that for the next few days. Hannah and Ponk would give them little things to do around the place. Ponk seemed to take a liking to Dream, recruiting him to follow them around the farm carrying things that they couldn't manage with just one hand, and looking through the fields for whatever ingredient they wanted to test out in some tincture. Techno borrowed books to read from the pair's shelves, getting lost in the pages and trying not to think too much about where they would go next.

Dream still wasn't talking, but he seemed more stable. During the day, someone who didn't know him might have thought he was fine, just quiet. He did the tasks asked of him, and spent his free time sparring with Techno or playing chess against anyone foolish enough to challenge him. Techno was watching him carefully, though, and he noticed when Dream's eyes went blank as he stared into space, when his hands shook, or when his skin blanched under his freckles. The whole not talking thing was still the most worrying part for Techno. He'd made it a point to warn Hannah and Ponk about Dream's silver tongue and slippery nature, but Dream hadn't spoken since the night he'd tried to kill himself.

He barely made a sound during the day. At night, though, his friend would break down, crying and shaking. Techno wanted to help, but nothing he said made a difference. It all sounded hollow anyway. So he just tried to be there and hold him until he fell asleep, and to ignore the scared, helpless feeling that gripped him seeing Dream like that. Watching his only friend fall apart at the seams was having that effect on him. It felt like if he held Dream tightly enough he could keep him together.

He wanted to fix it; he couldn't fix it. He felt so out of his depth.

Five days after their arrival, Techno woke up to find Dream had already gone. Worry pricked at him. He went downstairs, finding Hannah at the kitchen table eating. He slid into a chair opposite her, pulling food from the central plate. "Have you seen -- "

"Ponk and Green went to the village early this morning," she said. "The parts to fix the plumbing should be ready by now, and I think your friend wanted to go look for something."

"Did he say?"

"No, but he offered to go with Ponk," Hannah said. "Well, he nodded when Ponk asked."

"Ah." It was a relief to know Dream was with someone. Still, he worried.

"Does he talk to you?" Hannah asked. "I just wondered. You said he can talk, but I haven't heard him say anything."

"He can," Techno said. That wasn't strictly true. He didn't think Dream was choosing not to speak. "Well, I don't think he can right now. But he used to."

"I see."

Techno cleared his throat. "Thanks for helping me with him last night," he said. "It was...the worst it's been since it happened." Dream had actually fallen asleep quickly last night, but his screams in the grip of a nightmare had woken the entire household, Techno unable to calm him. 

"No need to thank me; it was nothing."

Dream hadn't seemed to recognize Techno last night, stuck in a state of confusion between asleep and awake. "Did he seem -- normal? When they left?"

"He seemed OK," Hannah said. Her eyes were kind. "I know you're worried."

"Yeah." Techno stared at the table, moodily tapping his fingers against the wood. "I just don't know what to do. There's nothing to do. And I can't even talk to him about it. It's -- yeah. Sorry."

"Do you...want to talk about it now?" Hannah asked. "I don't mind."

Techno frowned. He didn't know how much he should tell her, how much Dream would want him to say. But he needed to talk to someone about this, and Hannah had been nothing but kind. "He hasn't told me anything about his soulmate, even when he was talking," Techno said. "Not even their name."

"How did they die?"

"Painfully." Techno didn't elaborate, unsure if Hannah would connect the death of Dream's soulmate with the escape of two wanted fugitives. "He told me how it felt...remembering everything, only to feel the soul bond dying."

"That sounds awful," Hannah said quietly. "If I lost my sister..." She shook her head. "At least we've spent most of our lives together."

"Your soulmate is your sister?" Techno asked, his heart jumping into his throat.

"Yeah," Hannah said. A fond smile curved her lips. "It made growing up interesting, for sure."

An old pain twisted to life in Techno's chest. Part of him still hoped that his soulmate was the sibling he'd never met. It would mean they were still alive somewhere. "That sounds...nice."

"If you've never had a sister, I'm sure it does," Hannah chuckled.

Dream might not be his brother by birth, but he was a brother by blood. He didn't want to lose this brother, too.

"Maybe if I knew who they were to each other, I could help," Techno said. He was almost certain the dead noble wasn't Dream's family by birth, but they could have been a different kind of family. "I tried to ask, but he stopped talking after it happened, just for a day or two. Then, he seemed like he was handling it better, but...something must have happened."

Techno knew perfectly well what had happened. Dream had been different the day they'd joined the arena competitions. Even his fighting style had changed as he threw himself into matches without regard for his own safety. The matches weren't to the death, but it must have reminded him of the Pit. "He begged me to kill him."

"Shit."

"Yeah." Techno rubbed a hand over his face, squeezing his eyes shut tight. It was too early in the morning to cry. "I'm afraid," he admitted. "I don't want him to die, but...I'm afraid I'm just hurting him, keeping him here. He doesn't talk, barely eats, he's cried himself to sleep every night we've been here, and I just..." Hearing Dream try to keep quiet as he cried hurt in a way Techno didn't know how to explain. "I'm fucking useless."

Hannah reached across the table to squeeze his hand. "You're a good friend."

"I'm being selfish," Techno said. "I'm trying to help him just because I don't want to lose him."

"Well, yeah," Hannah said, cocking her head to the side. "That's what friends do. Friends help each other. Of course you don't want him to die."

Techno considered this. "Caring about someone isn't selfish," Hannah said. "I mean, not usually. Have you had many friends, Pink?"

Although her tone was light and joking, the question put Techno in an even darker mood. "No," he said dryly. 

"Well, he's lucky to have you," Hannah said. She let go of his hand. "I have some teas that should help him sleep. And Ponk...I think Ponk was planning to talk to him, after last night. They seem to get along."

"Thank you." Techno adjusted his hair, looping up his braid into a low bun at the base of his skull. Talking about this had helped. It had also made him more anxious to find Dream. He didn't put it past him to slip off on the pretense of helping the one-handed farmer ferry goods back from the village. It would be the perfect excuse to get alone, far away from Techno, to make another suicide attempt. "Thanks for letting me talk about this. It's...not an easy thing."

"Of course." Hannah smiled reassuringly, and Techno knew he shouldn't trust someone he barely knew this much, but he did. For this, at least. He wanted to help, and Dream needed help. He had to trust someone, because clearly he wasn't doing a great job on his own.

"I think I'll go to the village too," Techno said, standing. He grabbed his hat from the table and shoved it on his head, tucking the bun beneath the brim to hide his hair. "Which way is it?"

"I'm sure they're OK."

"Which way?"

Hannah gestured vaguely towards the door. "It's north, north-west. Just follow the road and you'll see a sign eventually. Want me to go with you?"

"No, I'll find it," Techno called over his shoulder. He was already heading for the door.

Chapter Text

Dream jolted awake with a scream ringing in his ears. He froze, confused.

It wasn't dark and cold inside his head when he had these dreams, which was something. But they left him unsettled, and he could only remember bits and pieces. This one gave him the impression of something moving, and a woman screaming. Or had it been a kid screaming? Those details were already slipping away.

Techno was still asleep, arms wrapped around him. Dream made his fingers unclench from Techno's shirt. His hand was stiff. He laid there listening to Techno's heartbeat against his ear and tried to match his breathing to Techno's calmer pace. It must be early; Techno always woke up before him. Dream knew he should probably try to fall back asleep.

He didn't want to sleep.

Dream's throat was sore like he'd been the one screaming, not someone in his dream. Had he? His memory of the night was a cluster of fragmented sensations. Pain in his throat. Unfamiliar, gentle hands on his back, in his hair. A woman's voice, several people talking. Warmth. Pink hair tangled in his fist. His eyes burning. Awful, gasping crying that made him feel like he was suffocating. Someone humming.

The dog was on his side of the bed today, squeezing him and Techno into the remaining space. It was warm here. Dream wondered if the dog had sensed that last night would be a bad night for him, and that was why she had pressed up against his other side instead of lying across their feet or trying to get in the middle.

Dream couldn't have explained why it was so bad last night even if he had been able to talk, except that maybe that day he had stared at the blade of a knife for a long time and calculated whether he could sneak away for long enough to bleed out and the answer was yes. And did he want to and that answer was also yes. And being able to hold someone was the only thing keeping him here. And he couldn't take another night in the void where his soulmate used to be and remain both sane and alive. 

Maybe he could just hide here until everyone else woke up. It was comfortable in the middle, though, and if he wasn't careful he would drift off to sleep again. But moving would be difficult without waking Techno or the dog. 

Something about that dream, though. It scratched at the back of his brain, making him restless. 

Dream straightened up slowly, shifting out of Techno's hold and scooting to the end of the bed. The dog raised her head, pricking her ears. Stay, Dream thought, gesturing with a palm held out flat. The dog flopped over, rolling onto the warm patch he had left behind.

Downstairs, he saw it was still dark out, the sky just beginning to lighten in a long blue band on the horizon. Ponk was busy in the kitchen, flipping eggs in a pan with practiced ease. "Oh, you're up early," they said, sounding surprised. Dream shrugged. "I'll add another egg."

Dream sliced bread for toast and some cheese that Ponk directed him to melt on the eggs. Hannah came inside around then. Like Ponk, she seemed surprised to see him, but she smiled warmly.

"I'm going to the village," Ponk announced as they ate. They eyed Dream. "The parts for the water should be ready by now. Want to come along? I could use an extra hand."

Dream's lips twitched in a small smile. Ponk had made that joke at least a dozen times before. He nodded.

"If you're not too tired," Hannah added. The look Hannah gave him was hard to read. "It's a couple miles out of the way."

"It's not that long of a walk," Ponk said. They finished their breakfast and drained a glass of water. "He's young. He'll be fine."

Dream was tired -- maybe a little more than normal -- but nothing he couldn't handle. Besides, he found himself eager to visit the village. He wanted to look for a few things, and he could use the distraction. He shook his head and smiled at Hannah, trying to communicate that he appreciated her concern but it wasn't needed.

"If you're sure." She squinted, then laughed. "You have so much dog hair in your hair."

Dream ran his fingers through his hair, wincing a little as tangles pulled at this scalp. "Here," Hannah said, chuckling. She got up and stood behind him, picking a large clump of fluff from his hair and then running her fingers through it to gather any extras. Dream blinked. The feeling of small, careful fingers in his hair was familiar.

Hannah laid a hand on his back briefly before moving away, and he remembered. Hers was the same light touch from the night before. Now that he placed it, he began to remember other specifics like her voice murmuring words of comfort. Just a dream...It's OK...only a nightmare...not real...

Dream wasn't sure if he should thank her for trying to help him last night, or apologize for waking her up and being a burden. A disruption. Bothering not just Techno now but Hannah and Ponk. He stared into the grain of the wooden table, wanting to sink under it and disappear. He should have just died.

"...when you are, Green. Hey. Green boy!"

Dream's head jerked up. Ponk stood by the door, an impatient hand on their hip. "You ready?" 

Dream got up hastily, crossing to the door and shoving on his boots. He jogged after Ponk, catching up as the other rounded the barn. 

The sky lightened gradually as the pair walked. The dirt path, marked with stones to either side, led them to a fork with a sign pointing towards the village. By then, the sky was blushing rose and the birds were loud. Dream took it in, reminding himself that he wouldn't get to see sunrises if he were dead, and then remembering that George wouldn't be able to, either. He wasn't sure if this line of thinking made him feel better or worse. He tried not to think at all, and just observe. 

"So," Ponk said. "You know anything about plumbing? Engineering? Redstone?"

Dream had to shake his head. Redstone fascinated him, but he'd never had the chance to learn about it. "That's all right," Ponk said. "As long as you can follow instructions. I'll need someone with two hands to help replace these parts."

Dream nodded. "Funny story about my hand," Ponk said, then didn't continue. They sighed.

Dream waited, curious. He'd just assumed Ponk had been born without a second hand, but realized now that they'd never mentioned it. During the workday, they kept the end of their arm covered in a brightly colored cloth with leather on the end, so that they could still use their left arm to push on and hold things without hurting the stump. It acted as the equivalent to the fingerless leather gloves on their right hand.

Ponk pointed a finger at him now. "Ok, Green, listen." Dream blinked. "I know you're the quiet type, but shake your head or stop me if you don't want to hear what I'm telling you."

Dream was now wildly curious, if a little apprehensive. He nodded slowly. "Right, then. I was sort of planning to talk to you about this a couple days ago, but I thought, 'It's none of my business, leave the man alone'," Ponk said. "But after talking to Hannah last night, I think you might want to hear the story. If you don't, just shake your head and I'll stop."

They paused. When Dream made no objection, Ponk continued. "I also lost my soulmate." 

Dream stopped short. He expected something about Ponk's arm, not their soulmate. Actually, he had just assumed Hannah and Ponk were soulmates. I'm sorry, he tried to say. He both wanted and didn't want to know details. How had Ponk gotten through it? 

"Now, I say lost but I don't mean he died," Ponk said. "I don't know what that's like; I'm sorry. I meant it as in, he's dead to me. He's not my soulmate anymore."

Why? What does that even mean? How? A dozen questions whirled through Dream's mind. "He cut off my hand," Ponk said, and the question that came out of Dream's mouth was, "What the fuck?!"

"So you can talk," Ponk said without missing a beat. "I was starting to think your friend was full of shit. He made you sound like a snake oil salesman. Or a politician."

Well, Techno wasn't half wrong. It was Dream who'd talked them into the arena, and Dream who had talked Techno into allying with him to escape the Pit in the first place. Not that Techno wasn't eloquent; he just got impatient. Techno preferred Dream's methods because they were cheaper and more entertaining than bribery.

"I, uh..." His voice sounded strange in his own ears. Dream cleared his throat. "Yeah, I just haven't...Sorry, I didn't -- "

"No need to apologize," Ponk said. They motioned for Dream to keep walking. Dream made his legs start moving again. "Sounds like you've been through it."

Dream's throat felt tight. "Was I...um...yelling, last night? In my sleep? I can kind of remember, but..."

"Yes," Ponk said. "It sounded like a pretty bad nightmare."

"I'm sorry," Dream muttered, flushing. "I woke you up, I'm really -- "

"What? Don't apologize for that, idiot," Ponk chastised him. "You can't help it. Anyway, you probably had a worse night than we did. Your friend was really worried, you know. Hannah and I had a talk about it afterwards. That's what I was going to tell you about."

"...Right. Your hand..." Dream trailed off. The thought of hurting your soulmate like that was horrifying. "Was it an accident, or a misunderstanding or...something? I mean, if you don't want to talk about it -- " 

"No, no accident," Ponk said. "He knew what he was doing. He can be a very serious man. Takes his duties very seriously. I stole from him, you see. He decided to teach me a lesson about stealing."

"What the fuck," Dream repeated, "did you steal?"

"A key."

"A key to what, the world's biggest treasure vault? What the fuck?!"

"No, and this is the worst part of the whole mess, Green," Ponk said, taking in Dream's eyes wide with shock. "The key didn't go to anything. It didn't work anymore. It used to unlock a door he was guarding, but he'd left it at home because it was an old key he didn't need. They'd already changed the locks."

"I..." Dream was at a loss. "I'm sorry."

"Anyway, I moved out after that," Ponk said. "Of course, he tried to win me back, but you don't mutilate someone you're supposed to be in love with. I still had to see the motherfucker in my sleep, though, and this is the part that might be useful to you, Green."

Dream was reminded of why Ponk had started this story. He was still trying to wrap his head around the idea of George doing something like that to him, or vice versa. George had gone to the Pit, true. He'd watched as Dream and Techno fought and killed for his entertainment. Nobility were afforded license to be cruel. But his waking self hadn't known Dream or remembered all the ways he'd changed during their friendship. As soon as he'd recognized Dream, he'd jumped into the ring to break up the fight himself. He could have just left that risk to his guards.

Dream wished he had.

"I didn't want to see him anymore, so I cut him off," Ponk said. "In my head, or my soul, I guess. The dreamland we had is still there, probably. I'm sure he sees it every time he dreams. I just left."

"How?"

"First I tried going somewhere different inside it," Ponk said, "but he could always find me. I kept walking until everything got...thinner. Less real, you know? Walk far enough, it all just starts to be a black void."

"Yeah." Dream swallowed. I know what that's like.

"I'm not sure how I did it," Ponk said, "but it was probably something to do with willpower, or soulpower? I don't know. The point is, I broke the soul bond myself, and now I don't have a soulmate and he doesn't either."

"How is that even possible?" Dream frowned. "How can you stand it outside the dreamland? It's so cold, and dark, and it feels like death or like I'm losing my mind. Nothing feels real anymore, even -- "

Ponk touched his arm briefly. Dream took a breath, dragging his thoughts out of a dangerous spiral. "I don't know what it's like for you," Ponk said, "but I was able to make my own place, eventually. My own dreamland, I mean. It's pretty small, and I'm by myself there, but it's restful. I don't always go there when I sleep, but I used to get nightmares like yours. And the void got lonely and boring, you know how it is. I was afraid I'd go back to him just to escape the void, so I made my own place."

"How?"

"I'm not really sure," Ponk admitted. "I don't know if it's possible for you, since your soulmate is dead. But I don't have a soulmate or soul bond anymore, either, and my soul was able to make something for itself. You've lost your original dreamland, right?"

"Yeah," Dream whispered. "I miss it." I miss him. Everything there would remind him of his loss, but wasn't that what he endured nightly anyway? It felt like home there and no, it wouldn't be home without George, but he missed it. He wanted to see the garden and the mushroom house and George's little animal carvings and the obstacle course. Even if it just caused him pain, anything had to be better than the dark emptiness inside his head and the feeling of slowly freezing to death from the inside out.

"It's just something to think about," Ponk said. "I wanted you to know it's not just this for the rest of your life. There are other possibilities."

Dream had managed to get by this far by just living moment to moment and pretending the future didn't exist. "Thank you," Dream said slowly. He was still processing the idea that he was alive at all right now, let alone that things might improve. 

"Glad to help," Ponk said lightly. "You can talk to me about this any time you want."

"Thank you." He meant it, and he tried to weight the words with the emotions he couldn't say. But he still didn't have full control of his voice. "Can I ask -- why do you care?" He bit his lip. "You -- and Hannah -- you've both been really...nice to me, even though I haven't done anything to -- I mean, we're paying rent, but -- "

"Because, Green, I just do, I don't know," Ponk said, waving their arms in a dismissive gesture. "Maybe it's because I used to be a doctor, or because you seem nice. Or maybe I just want a decent night's sleep without someone screaming, huh?"

"I'm sorry -- "

"That was a joke, Green." Ponk rolled their eyes. "I don't need a reason. Just call it basic empathy. Or is it sympathy? I always get those two mixed up."

"OK," Dream said. He looked up at the sky, tipping his head back and taking a long breath. "Thanks, again."

"Mhm."

They walked in silence for a little while longer. "We should be there soon," Ponk said. He eyed Dream. "You OK there, Green?"

Dream wiped his face. "Yeah." He cleared his throat. "Just, um. Just thinking."

The sun cleared the treeline. It was a bright morning, a few clouds hinting at possible rain later. Ponk started talking again, this time about plumbing, the village, the farm, and anything else that came to their mind. Dream listened, absorbing the information and asking occasional questions. It kept his mind off other things.

Chapter Text

The village was small, especially compared to the city where he and Dream had entered the arena. Small meant that there were fewer people around to notice them, but that also made them more noticeable. Not many reasons for new people to travel to a town this size. 

The north side of the village had a small watchtower with a contingent of guards, but there were no walls or street patrols. Techno strolled to the village center, hands in the pockets of his overalls, the picture of nonchalance.

The most interesting feature of the village green was a board plastered with papers. Among the posters advertising shops and asking for workers, a wanted poster caught his eye. WANTED: ANGEL OF DEATH. The illustration was of a winged hybrid with black feathers and an ugly, boxy hat. Apparently he was wanted for robbing some lord. Good for him. 

Ah, there he was. WANTED: BLOOD GOD. Whoever had illustrated his wanted poster was considerably less skilled than the artist for the "Angel of Death." Like the other, his poster was drawn in black and white. At least it didn't show his distinctive pink hair, although the artist had forgotten his braid anyway. Techno was drawn with his pig's mask, not his real face. All in all, it wasn't a great wanted poster. He was wanted for murder, robbery, and...treason? Techno snorted. As if he'd ever join a kingdom for long enough to betray it. 

"Look at that asshole," a familiar voice remarked. 

Techno jumped. The way Dream could sneak up on you was just not fair.

Dream had a bag stuffed with papers over one shoulder, a sack in one hand, and an armful of books under the other. "Blood God," Dream read. "I think we could take him."

"I don't know," Techno said, recovering his composure quickly. "He seems pretty dangerous to me. Look, it even says 'Approach with caution'."

"With a bounty of only five thousand? How dangerous could he be?" Dream asked with a smirk. "Look at this guy, though. That guy looks dangerous."

He pointed with his toe to a wanted poster stuck on the bottom of the board. Techno rolled his eyes. WANTED: DREAM. It depicted a man in greens and browns with a smiling white mask, an axe in hand. Apparently Dream was notorious enough for his poster to get a color illustration, which just didn't feel fair considering how ugly that shade of green was. The text on the bottom warned, Extremely dangerous, do not approach. Alert authorities immediately.

"That Blood God guy could take him," Techno said. "That smiling mask is kind of cringe. No idea how he even sees out of that thing." 

"He has more clout," Dream said, mirth in his eyes. "Fifteen thousand, he must be a badass."

"Yeah, how the hell did that happen?" Techno asked irritably. "You lost the duel and somehow ended up with a higher bounty?"

Dream wheezed quietly. "I don't know. Fame is fickle. Or would that be infamy?"

"Maybe idiocy."

"It's too bad," Dream said, grinning. "You should have killed me and collected the bounty for yourself. That's fifteen thousand you threw away. If you ever get too short on cash -- "

Techno grimaced. "Don't," he said. "Don't joke about that."

Dream shrugged. He motioned for Techno to follow and walked away, taking one of the main roads. Villagers stared at them as they passed, but no one seemed too interested. "You've joked about worse things; why can't I?"

"Because I know there's a part of you that actually means it."

Dream stopped and turned to him. He looked lost. His expression was blank, eyes glassy like he wasn't seeing Techno at all. He looked like he had on the cliff's edge, when nothing Techno said got through to him because his mind wasn't wholly there.

Then Dream blinked and his gaze snapped back to the present, to Techno's eyes. "Hearing you talk like that scares me," Techno said frankly. "You haven't spoken in days and that's one of the first things you say to me? I followed you to the village because I was afraid you were planning to try something."

"I..." Dream bit his lip. "I'm sorry. Fuck. I did think about...doing something like that. But I wasn't going to."

Techno took a half-step forward. Dream's admission didn't surprise him, but it twisted the ever-present knot of worry tighter in his chest. "You know to come find me if you ever -- "

"Yeah, I know," Dream said quietly. "I'm sorry about last night, too. I can...um..." He swallowed, looking down. "I can sleep somewhere else. I don't want to bother you -- "

"You don't bother me," Techno said. In truth, he had become used to the warm weight of another person (and a dog) beside him as he slept. Useless as he felt when Dream cried himself to sleep, actually having him there meant that at least Techno knew where he was.

It was like having a spider in the room. It made him feel better when he could see it. Not knowing where it had disappeared to was so much worse. 

"If -- if you're sure," Dream said. "I know I've been...hard to deal with. I've been trying, I swear -- "

"Dream, it's OK, it's fine. Relax." Techno shrugged. "I don't expect you to be OK. I'd be kind of worried if you were." He ducked his head to avoid the gaze of a village guard, motioning Dream away so that they were less in the center of the street. "It's good to hear you talking again, though." 

"I was trying to talk, before," Dream said. "I just...couldn't."

"I know." 

"I'm sorry -- "

"I swear, if you keep apologizing, I'll punch you."

"Sorry," Dream said, smirking. Techno swung at him playfully, catching him on the shoulder. Dream stumbled, and Techno had never felt so relieved to hear that ridiculous laugh.

"Hey! Green!" Ponk waved from across the street. "Quit messing around and come help me, would you? I swear, can't get decent help these days..."

The farmer grumbled under their breath as Dream and Techno approached, divvying up various packages between the three of them. Ponk didn't seem surprised to see Techno, and handed him the heaviest package full of metal tools and parts. "Most of this is his shit," Ponk said, hefting a long leather tube and a parcel of books. "Books. And maps? What do you need all these maps for, anyway?"

"Just looking into some stuff," Dream said vaguely. "Research." He took the rest of the books from Ponk, leaving the farmer holding only the tube of maps while he and Techno carried the rest of the day's shopping. They headed out of the village.

"Research?" Ponk repeated skeptically. "You don't look like a scholar."

"No, I just think it's always good to learn more about the world."

Ponk eyed Techno before asking Dream, "Is this about that thing we talked about?"

Dream blinked and Techno's ears pricked. "N-No," Dream said. "I meant, just, the area. Like, the physical world around us. Maps and...politics and...yeah."

"Hmm."

"What thing did you talk about?" Techno asked. 

Ponk looked to Dream, raising an eyebrow. Dream's forehead crinkled with an uncomfortable frown. "Just...stuff."

"OK, you don't have to tell me," Techno said, raising his hands in pretend defensiveness. "I get it. Top secret stuff."

Dream gave him a guilty half-smile. "Yeah. I don't want to tell you unless Ponk wants to tell you."

"Oh, that's what you're worried about?" Ponk said. "I didn't want to tell you unless Green wanted to tell you."

Dream chuckled and Techno said, "So is anyone actually going to fucking tell me?" and Dream's chuckle became a laugh. He looked at Ponk.

"We were talking about soulmates," Ponk explained. "I told Green how my soulmate cut off my hand."

Techno's tail flicked rapidly and his eyes widened with shock. So that was why Dream hadn't wanted to explain without Ponk's permission. "That...is messed-up."

"Yeah, no shit!" Ponk said, and launched into the story. 

Chapter Text

Dream had gone all quiet again by the time they got back to the farm, just nodding along to the others' conversation. Techno was reluctant to press him on the issue, but even more afraid not to. He spent the last leg of their walk back thinking of questions Dream couldn't answer with a nod or shake of his head. He asked, "So, how many books did you get and when can I read them?" 

Dream was staring off into space. He didn't answer, or even acknowledge that he'd heard the question. Techno's heart sank. 

Ponk poked Dream in the side with his elbow. Dream jolted. "Green boy! Pink asked you a question."

"Hmm?" 

Techno repeated the question, not really expecting Dream to respond. It would be fine if he didn't, or couldn't -- he knew by now that just because Dream was talking didn't mean he was OK. He just needed to gauge where Dream's head was. "It's fine if you don't want me to read them," Techno added. "I like books, though."

"Maybe you could help with my research," Dream said thoughtfully. Techno raised an eyebrow, surprised by the request and relieved to hear it. Dream had a look in his eye. A certain scheming look. It reminded Techno of when he'd proposed the escape plan. "How fast can you read?"

"Pretty fast," Techno said. He had devoured every book put in front of him since he was a child, and he was making steady progress through Ponk and Hannah's collection. "What do you need?"

"Well, if you read the ones I'm not reading, then I can ask you questions about them," Dream said. "I'll read them myself, but it helps to have a second perspective."

"Sounds good," Techno said slowly. "What are you researching?"

"Uh, geography mostly," Dream said with a wave of his hand. "The kingdoms around us, and trade routes."

Techno was certain Dream was hiding something. If he didn't want to reveal his intentions in front of Ponk or Hannah, fine, but Techno would get the truth out of him later. His first thought was that Dream was picking likely targets for them to rob along the road. 

Whatever he was planning would have to wait, though. Dream tried to drift away up the stairs after they brought in their wares, but Ponk called for his help. "Your books can wait, Green. I want hot water."

The two of them had the hot water running again in an hour. Hannah and Techno celebrated with mugs of tea, a taste they had in common. Dream disappeared upstairs with his maps, the dog following after him. Techno wanted to follow him. Just to make sure. But the dog was there, they were just downstairs, and Dream had this new project of his -- surely it would be fine to leave him alone for a little while. He was only a floor away.

Hannah watched Techno. "How'd he seem to you?" she asked. "You're his friend; you know him best."

"He's talking." Hannah nodded. Techno drank more of his tea. "He still...loses focus. I don't know what to call it. It's like his mind isn't there. I've noticed it before, but it's easier to tell when he's talking, I guess." Dream had told him before about losing time, and hinted at spiraling thoughts that dragged him to depths he couldn't escape by himself. 

"Mhm." Hannah sipped her tea in silence for a minute. Techno appreciated her asking about Dream. She seemed kind. And it was somehow easy to talk to her about this. Maybe it was the books and the tea that had disarmed him, or maybe it was all the roses, but something about this place set Techno at ease. He felt safe here, which was saying something.

"Thanks for not kicking us out," he said abruptly. "I don't think I could have helped him on the road. This place is...peaceful."

"Well, you two are better boarders than some we've had," Hannah said. Her eyes crinkled in a smile over the rim of her cup. "I should tell you how I met Ponk." Techno raised his eyebrows. "They were squatting in my attic for weeks, stealing my shit and sneaking around when I wasn't there."

"And you..." Techno frowned. "You let them stay? You're..."

"Co-owners of this place? Yeah." Hannah chuckled. "If they told the story, they'd probably tell you all about how they scammed me into becoming their business partner. But I couldn't kick out someone who'd just had their hand cut off, and besides, I had a good feeling about them." She tilted her head up to look Techno in the face. "Kind of like I had about you. Not like anywhere in town would have let you stay there. We have to help each other out, you know?"

Techno's tail flicked as he caught her implication. If Hannah or Ponk had any hybrid traits, they hid them very well. "They don't like hybrids in the village, then? Surprise, surprise."

"Not ones with armor and weapons, anyway."

He raised an eyebrow. "And you two don't mind hybrids with weapons and armor because, what? You're hybrids?"

"Something like that," Hannah said, her cryptic answer only intriguing him more. "And the gold didn't hurt." Techno chuckled. It never did. "Besides, leather armor?" Hannah scoffed. "We could've taken you if you made any real trouble." 

"Really," Techno drawled. He felt a grin curving one side of his mouth. "You still think that after seeing us spar?"

"Well, now I've studied your fighting style, so yes." The older woman sipped her tea primly. "I may be a little out of practice, but I could still beat you. Probably."

"Were you a good fighter, in your day?"

Hannah's grin was sharp. "Watch it, young man. I might have gone grey but I haven't gone soft."

"It was less about age and more about the peaceful farming life," Techno said. "Green and I get constant practice on the road."

"I'd say running this place has helped me build up more muscle; I always struggled with that." Hannah gazed at him keenly. "Want to spar? I could show you some tips and tricks."

"Sure." Anything he could use to improve his skill was good. He wasn't sure how much of a challenge Hannah would pose -- she was maybe a hand over five feet, and slight of build. But Techno had learned in the Pit that size didn't mean much when it came to skill. Being small only meant Hannah had probably amassed decades of "tips and tricks" for facing larger opponents -- and bad warriors didn't grow old. 

"I have chores now that we finally have hot water," Hannah said, "but let's plan on tomorrow."

"Can you show Green, too?" Techno asked. Sparring to tire Dream out enough to sleep had become routine. Techno wished he'd asked for Hannah's help days ago.

"Of course." 

Techno looked over at the staircase. He wanted to tell himself that he was just being paranoid. People about to kill themselves didn't buy a bunch of books they were never going to read -- right? Or maybe they did, because they didn't have to care about saving money anymore. It did seem like the kind of thing Dream would do to lull Techno into letting his guard down.

On the other hand, a plan like that might be too complicated for Dream to handle in his current mental state. When he'd tried the first time, he hadn't exactly been thinking with the same logic as Techno or anyone healthy.

Techno excused himself to Hannah with a quiet word and headed upstairs. 

Dream sat on the floor in front of a large, rolled-out map, very much alive and focused on his task. Techno had to knock on the wall before he looked up. "Nice map," Techno said dryly. "What's it for and why did you buy so many?"

"They're not all the same map." Dream tapped a little black dot. "Pretty sure this is the village, which puts us just about here."

"Why don't you ask the locals?" Techno said. "Hannah and Ponk will know the area better than we do."

"True," Dream said. "I don't know, I wanted to study it myself first."

"Hmm." They sat in silence for a minute, Dream studying his map and Techno looking through the books to see if anything interesting stood out. A book about noble families, their lineage, and court customs caught his eye. He thumbed through it curiously, stopping at a page which illustrated a pair of duelists opposite a lengthy set of rules for duel etiquette. How to challenge someone, when and where were proper grounds to hold a duel, even ways to refuse a challenge without looking like a coward.

Techno held it up. "This one has pictures," he deadpanned.

Dream's face pinched with pain. "I -- I wanted to read that one first. That OK?"

"Sure," Techno said. "Makes no difference to me."

He didn't expect Dream to take the book back right away. Dream laid a hand on the cover, then took a deep breath and set it aside. "Dream, what is it?"

"It's stupid." 

"It's not stupid." Techno craned his neck to see the book. "You're crying; it's important."

"I'm not crying." Dream rubbed his face, then let out a startled laugh when his hand came away wet. "Well, shit. Look, I cry all the time now anyway, it doesn't matter." 

"It matters to me." 

Dream turned glittering eyes on Techno with a sigh. "I know. Um -- thank you, for that. For being there, and..." He wiped his eyes with an impatient hand. "You've done a lot for me. I think you're the only reason I haven't completely lost my mind."

"I'm the only reason you're alive," Techno reminded. He didn't feel like he deserved Dream's thanks, didn't feel like he had been much of a friend. There were days when Dream's quiet misery had him questioning if he'd even done the right thing.

"True." A brief smile flickered over Dream's face and was gone. "I spent a few days wondering if I hated you for that."

"Do you?"

"You're my friend," Dream said simply. "I don't hate you. And, uh..." He averted his eyes from Techno's scrutiny. "I don't want to die right now. But in case that changes or I'm not thinking straight and I get like -- you know, like I was before -- and something happens, it won't be because I don't care about you enough to stay, or anything like that."

That sounded suspiciously like goodbye. "In case what happens?" Techno demanded. "What are you planning?"

"Nothing!"

"Somehow it's hard to believe you."

"Well, if something happens to you, then," Dream said. "If you die, I don't want more regrets."

Techno realized that Dream had managed to weasel his way out of answering both his original questions: what all the maps were for, and why he was crying. "More regrets?" Techno pressed. He kept his tone gentle, but Dream still flinched like Techno had slapped him.

"I'm trying to say something actually nice, for once, can't you just accept that?" Dream mumbled. He wrapped his arms around his legs and rested his forehead on his knees. "You're my friend, that's all. I wanna make sure I say that before you die."

"I'm not going to die," Techno said firmly.

"But what if you do."

"I won't."

"But what if you do."

"Don't do this to yourself." Techno held out his hand. "I'm here, OK? Relax. I'm not leaving, I'm not dying, I'm not going anywhere."

"You're on wanted posters everywhere. We both are." Dream still refused to look up, his knuckles turning white where his fingers gripped his clothes. Techno had felt that same desperate grip on his cloak, his hand, his hair. "Anything could happen, so I wanted to tell you you're my friend."

"I know that," Techno huffed, his frustration building as Dream became more visibly upset and nothing he did helped. "You're my friend too, OK? But you already know that. I would kinda hope it was obvious by now. Where is this coming from? What's this really about?"

"I don't want you to die."

"Dream, I'm right here. I'm not going to leave, I'm not going to die, just..." Techno grabbed his chin with some difficulty, forcing Dream's head up and off his knees. "Look at me. I'm right here. I'm here. Open your eyes." Part of Techno wanted to shake him, and part of him just wanted to cry. Instead, he took Dream's face in both hands and didn't let him get away. "Look at me."

Dream reluctantly opened his eyes. "Great. Now just breathe for a minute. You're freaking out."

Dream shuddered. "I'm s-sorry." 

"It's fine, it's OK," Techno said. "You're OK." Well, that was a blatant lie. "It'll be OK." That was closer to the truth. He thumbed away fresh tears. "Breathe in for one, two, three...breathe out three, two, one..." Techno took exaggerated breaths as he counted, nodding encouragement as Dream shakily followed his lead.

Slowly, Dream calmed as his breathing grew deeper and more even, the panic fading. He slumped against Techno's side, and Techno slung an arm around his shoulders. "I didn't mean to upset you," Techno said. "I just want to help."

"I, um..." Dream trailed off. Techno just waited. The smell of Dream's distress was sharp in his nostrils. He hadn't even known Dream's soulmate, but at this point he wanted to take apart whoever had killed them. Slowly. With his dullest knife. And maybe some hot coals. Techno imagined creative torture methods while he waited for Dream to either answer him or not.

"There's so much I still don't know about him," Dream finally said in a small voice. "He kept a lot of his life from me. I mean...I did the same thing. We were sort of...each other's escape."

Something finally clicked, and Techno wanted to kick himself for not getting it sooner. "Is he in that book?" 

"His family is," Dream whispered. "So he probably is, too." 

"Are you sure you want to read that right now?"

"Yes." Dream nodded. He started talking again and the words tumbled out of him in a rush. "I miss him so fucking much, I just want -- I don't care what's in there, I just want something of him. I can't even go to our dreamland; it's just gone. I've had one or two real dreams, but usually there's nothing inside my head when I sleep. It's cold and dark. Whatever piece of him I had died when he did." 

Techno didn't know what to say. He gripped Dream's shoulder tighter, almost to reassure himself that Dream was still there. He took a deep breath and thought about dull knives and hot tongs. It helped. A little. "I didn't know it was like that."

"Yeah." Dream swallowed audibly before continuing, his voice very quiet and halting like it was physically difficult to get the words out. "We were friends, but...things were complicated, I don't know. He had some...arranged marriage...and I was in the Pit...I was waiting until...I didn't know if we'd make it out, so..." His voice had been growing softer, words slurred together and mumbled. Techno's ears pricked to hear, "I never told him how I felt." 

Not for the first time, Techno wondered who his own soulmate was and what they were to each other. He'd never had romantic feelings for anyone, but his soulmate might be someone he could actually become close to in that way. Would he hold back like Dream, or try to make something out of it? "I'm sorry." How many times had he said that? He wished he was better at this. "So...that's why you're telling me I'm your friend, all of a sudden?"

Dream nodded. Techno sighed. "Thanks. But I'm not going to die."

Dream tensed. Techno had become pretty good at reading his nonverbal signals. "Listen, at least you've said what you wanted, so you can stop worrying about that. Though you still haven't told me what all the damn maps are really for."

That got him a small laugh. "Speaking of these maps and books," Techno said, "let's look at them downstairs. For my peace of mind. It's just easier to keep an eye on you when you're in the middle of the house and not hiding alone somewhere." Dream made a disagreeable noise. "The lighting's better down there anyway," Techno pointed out. "There are windows, more lanterns, a fireplace...candles..."

He stood, pulling Dream to his feet by the elbow. His companion rolled his eyes but started to help as Techno gathered the map and loose papers. Dream picked up his small pile of books. "What are all the blank papers for?" Techno asked.

Techno didn't think he'd get a spoken answer, but Dream surprised him. "Drawing."

They headed downstairs. "You can draw?"

Dream shrugged. "Kind of. I want to be able to memorize and recreate the maps."

"Looking for easy pickings along the road?" Techno asked.

Dream shot him a sly smile. "Sort of. I was actually looking for...other stuff. The best travel routes and one or two other things. I remember going on a few trips when I was younger, but I can't recall details."

"Fine, don't tell me," Techno said, raising his hands. "I'll wait until you need help finding whatever it is you're looking for."

"I did tell you!"

"Some of it," Techno said. "Y'know, if you told me the whole story, it might help me find whatever it is you wanted from those books."

Dream hummed, then went silent again, his forehead creased. They shifted some chairs and furniture out of the way in the main room so Dream could spread out his maps by the fire. Hannah shot them a questioning look when she passed through the kitchen, but didn't object to the rearrangement of her living room. Techno picked a book at random from Dream's pile and began reading. 

Dream stared into the fire, lost in thought. He'd abandoned the examination of the maps hours ago. Now he sat cross-legged with a blank book open in front of him, jotting down what he could remember about the dreams he'd been having. The white-haired woman, being young, a red coat, gold buttons. The smell of hay, or straw, or...something. He had sketched the curl of a sheep's horn in the top right corner of one page. 

Then there were the nightmares. While he was lucky in a way not to remember them very well, Dream would rather have had all the details. He wanted to know if he could use his analytical, waking mind to piece everything together and make it all make sense. The only clear memory he had from the nightmare was of someone screaming, but he couldn't tell who. He had been screaming in real life -- but wasn't sure if he was the one screaming in the dream, or if that had just been his automatic response to the devastating emotion that came with the nightmare. He wanted to avoid thinking about how these things felt, if at all possible. If he started sinking again, he wasn't sure he'd be able to pull himself out.

But he still couldn't shake the sense that it was all connected. He had only started dreaming, really dreaming, again now that George was dead. He didn't have a soulmate or a dreamland anymore, and this was what his mind came up with instead? There had to be a reason for it.

Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. A way to pretend he was in control. 

Someone touched his shoulder lightly. Dream jerked, slamming the book shut as he jumped. "Sorry!" Hannah said. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"No -- uh, it's OK," Dream said, embarrassed. He ran his fingers through his hair, which already stood on end from the dozens of times he'd done it in the last few hours. "What is it?"

"You didn't come for dinner, so I saved you something," Hannah said. She set a small plate of food beside him, then took a seat in the chair by the fire. "Do you still want to brush the dog?"

Brushing the dog every night had been calming. "Yeah," Dream said. He rolled up the maps and grabbed the plate. "Thanks for saving me some food." He probably wouldn't eat all of it, and could have easily gone without it, but it was nice of her to think of him. "I didn't realize it was so late."

"Yeah, you seemed pretty distracted." Hannah's gaze lingered on the rolled-up maps. "Something you're looking for?"

"I...don't know," Dream said. "I wanted to plan where we should go next, but...apart from that, I'm just curious. I always used to like maps when I was younger."

The sentence rolled so easily off his tongue he almost forgot it was a lie. It didn't feel like a lie. It felt true. He had a vivid sense memory of touching the curled edges of a map on a table much taller than himself. He wasn't sure if it was something he truly remembered, or if it was a lie he unconsciously cooked up to make lying to Hannah easier. Dream used to be very sure of who he was, where he was, and the fact that he was real. Reality wasn't so stable lately. His mind wasn't a place he could trust.

"...Green?"

He blinked himself back to awareness. "Huh?"

"I said, let me know if you have any questions about the area," Hannah said. "I used to travel a lot." 

"I will," he said hurriedly. "Thanks."

Dream managed, barely, to keep from sprinting to the back door out into open air. The heat of the fire and the closeness of the walls made it feel like the room was collapsing in on him. He walked outside barefoot onto the cobblestone slabs and sat down, putting his head in his hands and closing his eyes. Something scratched insistently at the back of his mind, like an animal clawing at the door.

Paper under his hands and worn wood, adults' voices raised somewhere above his head.

Another person huddled underneath...something...with him.

A flash of red fabric.

Red.

So much red.

Dream took a few deep breaths as the world spun like the ground was rocking underneath him. He really should have eaten earlier. 

"Hey, you forgot this." 

Hannah set the plate down with a clink beside him. He nodded. 

Shh, they'll hear us, whispered a voice in his memory. A wave of dizziness hit him, and silence clamped down on his tongue so that he couldn't thank Hannah.

Dream made an effort to pick up the plate and put food into his mouth, not meeting his host's eyes. He couldn't taste any of it.

Hannah held out a cup when he was done. "I made some tea if you want some," she said. "It'll help you sleep better." 

Right. He still hadn't apologized to Hannah. Dream cleared his throat and forced himself to speak. It did feel easier to find his voice again now that he'd eaten, and now that the dog had come up beside him. He stroked its fur. "Thanks," he said. "I'm really sorry about last night. I didn't mean to wake you up."

"Oh, sweetie, no," Hannah said, her forehead crinkling in a frown. "Don't apologize for that. It's not like you meant to."

Dream ducked his head, using the dog as an excuse not to look her in the eye. "Still. Sorry to...inconvenience you."

Hannah brushed his hair out of his face, tucking it behind his ear so that he couldn't hide behind it. She waited until Dream met her gaze before saying, "I don't mind, and I don't blame you. Whatever you're going through is worse than any inconvenience to me."

Dream picked up the cup of tea instead of saying anything, feeling a little too overwhelmed to reply. He didn't feel like he deserved her sympathy. If she knew his real identity, she wouldn't be so understanding. If she knew how many people they'd killed to escape, or that it was his own fault his soulmate died, she might say he deserved far worse than nightmares. He gulped the tea, barely feeling the burn at the back of his throat. 

It might be easier if Techno, Hannah, and Ponk had been harsh to him, he thought. If they'd been cruel, he would have accepted that he deserved cruelty. Accepting their kindness was much harder. He wasn't used to people trying to take care of him.

"How long does it take to work?" he asked once he was done with the tea.

"You'll start to feel more drowsy in about a half hour," Hannah said. "It won't knock you out, but it makes it easier to slip away."

Slip away. He wondered if Hannah had other herbs -- medicines that could help him slip away peacefully into a more permanent sleep. The thought didn't come with any serious intent, but Dream put it away in the back of his mind with all his other ideas on how he might end his own life. Being able to fall asleep and not wake up almost sounded too good for him, though. George had bled out from a stab in the back. If Dream was going to die, it should hurt.

"Thanks again," he said. He brushed the dog and abruptly changed the topic. "Can you tell me more about the village and the area? You're local."

"I used to travel more," Hannah said. "I just settled here maybe...ten years ago. What do you want to know?"

Dream quizzed her on everything he could think to ask, not just about the local area but her previous travels. Hannah was better than reading a book, able to capture details from a long and accurate memory. She was just explaining a shortcut through the mountains to the closest major city when Dream yawned.

"Go get some rest," she said, patting his back. "I'll be here in the morning."

Dream stood and nodded, yawning again. Between his terrible sleep last night, waking up early, walking to town and back, and the tea, he was tired. He wandered back inside, searching out Technoblade. It was a little too early for the other man to be tired, but Dream hoped he'd find him reading or somewhere in their room. He dreaded falling asleep. If Techno wasn't there, he didn't think he'd have the courage to keep trying every night. 

He found Techno on the long couch by the fireplace in what had become the piglin hybrid's favorite spot to sit and read. Techno had moved the couch closer and sat on the end nearest to the flames, a book propped up on one knee. Today, however, there was something different about him. Dream blinked, trying to place it. Then he laughed. "Wait, when did you get glasses?"

"Don't tease me," Techno grumbled. "I only need them to read."

"I'm not," Dream said, taking the spot next to him. The rectangular spectacles were perched on his nose, a cord looped behind his head to keep them in place. "When did you get them?"

"Today, obviously," Techno said. He flipped a page. "They're actually Ponk's. They got a new pair from the village, so they let me borrow their old ones."

"What are you reading?"

Techno held up the book so that he could read the title. Ways and Means. "One of your geography and culture books. It's surprisingly not as boring as I thought it would be."

"So you like it? Anything useful?"

"I don't know," Techno said with exaggerated patience. "Maybe if I was allowed to finish it, I could tell you."

"Fine." Dream moved closer, tucking himself against Techno's side to read along. Without missing a beat, Techno put an arm around his shoulders. Dream focused on the words for a minute, but he felt himself fading quickly. It was warm here. He fell into a daze, not really thinking about anything but not quite asleep yet. 

"Hey," Techno said after a while, jostling Dream gently. "C'mon, you don't want to fall asleep here."

He pulled Dream to his feet and led him upstairs, Dream yawning and mumbling protests about being comfortable. "Yeah, I know," Techno said. "But you're heavy and I didn't feel like carrying you upstairs."

That was fair, Dream thought. He pulled on his nightclothes and fell into bed, completely exhausted. The dog had been waiting for them at the foot of the bed. She hopped up now, nosing into Dream's face and making him move over to the middle. Techno muttered something annoyed before Dream felt the bed sink and the covers move. With a colossal effort, Dream rallied his drifting thoughts and put them into words before he could fall asleep completely. "I'm sorry."

"What?"

"I know I've been..." He struggled through a wave of drowsiness. "Useless, and clingy, and annoying."

"You haven't -- "

"Thanks for putting up with me," Dream yawned. "You're a good friend."

"Dream, I don't..." Techno trailed off. After a long moment, he just put an arm around him. Dream settled in between him and the dog, using them as beacons of warmth that would drive away the cold of sleep. Techno cleared his throat before saying, in an oddly strained voice, "It's no problem. Just don't wander off again. I actually have no idea how you didn't wake me up this morning."

"You should tell your soulmate how you feel," Dream mumbled. This seemed very important, and he wanted to make sure Techno got it before he went to sleep and saw his soulmate. "Not just romantic feelings, anything. You don't want these regrets."

"OK," Techno said. He brushed his fingers through Dream's hair, a soothing gesture that simultaneously calmed Dream and made him want to cry. "I will. I've lost...well...I know what you mean about regrets."

Dream nodded and wondered what Techno meant, but he couldn't focus on continuing to speak. He slipped away into the dark of sleep. 

It was cold. He had to resist the instinct to curl up on himself like a hurt bug. Instead, Dream counted up and down from ten on his fingers over and over and over again, until his thoughts were occupied with that instead of the piercing chill.

He couldn't imagine George hurting him, not badly enough that he'd flee to this nothingness to escape. He could see why Ponk had been tempted to go back.

Where was this, anyway? Until speaking with Ponk, Dream had assumed the void of sleep was something like death. His soulmate was dead, so instead of a dreamland, his own soul was connecting with death. That had made a twisted sort of sense to him. But according to Ponk, the place outside their dreamland had been bendable to their will -- or soul, or mind, or whatever had enabled them to forge their own dreamland.

Was he even inside his own mind right now? Dream wondered. He'd always thought of the dreamland as a place he went inside his own head -- but that didn't make sense, especially now. George had been with him in their dreamland, but why assume George was visiting his head and not the other way around?

What if the dreamland existed somewhere outside both of them? Ponk said their own dreamland was a place they and their soulmate had built together. Dream had felt something vital tear and break when George died, leaving him clutching at the remnants of whatever metaphysical fabric had stitched them together. He couldn't return to their original dreamland because George's soul had helped create it, and George was gone.

But he still had a soul.

Where am I? he said out loud. He heard nothing.

Dream cleared his throat and tried again. "Where am I? Where is this?"

His voice was quiet, but it was audible. So this wasn't a vacuum. He...existed here. Other things might exist here, too.

"Hello?" His voice wavered. Dream got to his feet and realized that in order to do so, he had to be standing on something. This wasn't a void. It had a...floor. He couldn't see it, but he could see his hand when he held it in front of his face. Had it always been like this, or had he willed it to change by trying to stand? "Hello?"

Dream stood still for a long few minutes, unsure what he was waiting for. Maybe a light in the distance, an answer from the dark, or some other signal that he wasn't alone. A tiny, desperate part of him hoped he would hear George call back.

Nothing happened.

Dream swiveled on the spot, picked a direction at random, and started walking. This place had been his private hell for two weeks now. He wasn't sure where he was going or how anything worked or even what was real, but it didn't matter. Anywhere had to be better than here.

Chapter Text

The past: The day of the escape.

Tommy perches on a pole twenty feet in the air, scowling in concentration, wings spread wide for balance. The next jump requires him to leap six parallel bars and land on a platform barely wider than his shoulders. He's been stalled at this part of the parkour course for the last half hour.

"You've got this, big man," Tubbo calls from below. 

"Yeah. You got this," Ranboo echoes nervously.

Tommy tries to tune them out. Getting distracted by an audience isn't an option, especially not when the real performances are a lot more dangerous. Tommy had actually helped Schlatt come up with some of them, like floors covered with thorny bushes or magma blocks. As painful as those might be, his wings soften his falls so he would never be seriously hurt. Schlatt is the real showman, though. He's invented a floor rigged to slowly fill with lava or freezing water, and tricks like arrows triggered by observers. And he seems to enjoy watching competitors drink a potion and struggle through its effects.

Tommy's really good at challenges that involve drinking some kind of potion, like slowness or blindness. But one nearly disastrous run had featured lit TNT falling from the ceiling, the shockwaves battering him and the roar of explosions temporarily killing his hearing. That was the closest he'd ever come to death.

Is it really so bad that it also made him feel alive?

Tommy smiles. Tommy jumps.

He flaps his wings strenuously but can tell immediately that he won't make it. "Fucking hell!" He kicks the dirt as he lands.

"You'll get it," Ranboo offers, with an encouraging lilt that irks Tommy for no real reason. "Just gotta keep practicing."

"Easy for you to say," Tommy mutters darkly. He rolls his shoulders and fluffs his wings. They're clipped, just like Quackity's, just like every winged hybrid's in this hellhole.

He doesn't think they'd let him die -- winged hybrids are relatively rare here, and Tommy makes them a lot of money. Not to mention Quackity would lose his mind. Quackity's fury after the TNT incident had been terrifying to witness, and Tommy wasn't even the target of his anger. But as much as Quackity might try to protect him, his brother only holds limited power here. Tommy has to take what control he can, wherever he can. 

Which means practicing this jump. Again. Until it's perfect.

He runs and hops up, flapping his wings to get some momentum. He can make it short distances, but his clipped primary feathers effectively ground him from vertical flight. He'll never really fly, not while they keep clipping his wings after each molt. If he could fly, he would just soar over this fucking parkour course. If he could fly, he'd escape the Pit and live somewhere high, high up in the trees or the mountains, where no one would ever find him. 

His toes knock against the last bar and he lands, awkwardly, on the platform.

Tubbo and Ranboo cheer. "Yes!" Tommy jumps up, punching his fist in the air, wings fluttering excitedly. He has no idea how he'd done it, and no idea if he'll be able to repeat it. But he's done it. 

He jumps down and restarts the course, eager to prove he can repeat the problem jump in sequence. He practically dances through the first section, his elation carrying him easily through the obstacles. He lines up the jump perfectly, opens his wings, and sails through the air.

The door below crashes against the wall. "There you are!"

Tommy hits the bars chest-first and falls, cursing all the way down. He lands nimbly on his feet, scowling at Quackity. "You fucked up my jump! I've been working on that for ages, man, and I was just, I was this close -- "

"Shut up, Tommy," Quackity snaps. Tommy's mouth clicks shut, more out of surprise than obedience. Quackity isn't usually so harsh with him. "I need all three of you to come with me. Now."

"Why?" Tommy demands, crossing his arms. 

Quackity huffs. "Just grab your weapons and armor; I'll explain on the way."

"What's wrong? What's happened?" Tubbo asks.

"All my armor is in my room," Ranboo says.

"OK, OK, let's go!" Quackity barks, his voice rising high on the last word. He beckons the trio forward frantically, looking out the door down the hallway. 

Reluctantly, Tommy trudges after Tubbo and Ranboo. The edge in Quackity's voice gives him a bad feeling. He wishes he could stay in here, practicing the course and pretending nothing is wrong. He wishes he could fly away.

Quackity's wings flare out, preventing the three boys from from going past him. He's in armor with an axe and shield, but he passes the shield to Tubbo and hands Tommy a knife. Ranboo draws his own sword, audibly swallowing. When Tommy gestures to trade for the knife, he gladly swaps. The enderman hybrid isn't a good fighter. 

"Keep your eyes open," Quackity mutters. "Follow me."

"What are we looking for?" Tubbo whispered as the group nervously trails Quackity out into the hall. Quackity sets off at a jog in the direction of their living quarters. "Big Q! Wait!"

"There's a problem," Quackity says shortly. "There was an escape -- "

"Escape?"

"Who?"

"The guards caught them," Quackity says. "They were in the Pit, there was some kind of fight -- I don't know, I didn't see -- fuck! Get back!"

Quackity skids to a halt, raising his axe as two men in an unfamiliar uniform rounded the corner. They are armed and armored with clean, well-kept gear. Quackity extends his wings, and Ranboo moves behind Tubbo's shield. Tommy raises his sword, prepared to defend his friends but hoping to scare the others off. It's been a long time since he's had to kill anyone.

The men charge. 

The fight is quick and brutal. Quackity has a Pit fighter's instincts and experience, and Tommy's reflexes are honed through countless hours of practice. He stares at the blood dripping off Ranboo's borrowed sword. Quackity puts his foot on a dead man's chest and yanks the axe from his skull. 

"Long story short, it's a fucking bloodbath out there," Quackity pants. "Some fancy fuck got killed, and now all his people are swarming this place. C'mon. Move! Tommy!"

Tommy blinks back to the present and runs after Quackity. His wings carry him over the spreading pool of blood. 

They sprint through the warren of tunnels beneath the Pit, Quackity leading them on a winding route away from the sounds of yelling and metal clashing. After what feels like ages but is only minutes, they reach Tubbo's room and scramble inside.

Quackity slams the door and locks it. "OK, here's the plan. Find whatever you can to brace against the door once I leave, gear up, and then do not open this fucking door for anyone but me. Got it?"

"You're going back out there?" Ranboo says.

"What about Schlatt?" Tubbo asks. 

"I...I don't know where he is," Quackity admits, distress wrinkling his forehead. "But -- yeah. I need to find him. And you can open the door for him, Tubbo; your father wouldn't hurt you."

Unless it saved his own skin somehow, Tommy thinks. Fuck Schlatt; he'll make sure they open the door on Quackity's command only. Quackity meets his eyes for only an instant, and Tommy swears they're both thinking the same thing.

"I could come with you," Tommy offered, but Quackity is already shaking his head vehemently.

"No! No, no, no, you're staying here, you're staying safe." Quackity's scar makes his fierce glare even more intimidating. "If anyone does get in, you're the best fighter, Tommy. Please, please listen to me and stay here. Don't do anything reckless."

"...Fine," Tommy mutters. A hard lump of fear in his throat makes it difficult to say goodbye. So he hugs Quackity instead. Quackity is a head shorter, and he feels so much smaller than Tommy like this, like Tommy could break him by hugging too hard. Tommy can feel the hollow bones of his wings under soft feathers. He doesn't want to let go.

Tubbo joins the hug a second later, wrapping his arms around both of them. "You can stay here," Tubbo says. "Dad will be fine. He's got plenty of people."

"No, I'm sorry. I have to go." Quackity extricates himself carefully, glancing to Ranboo. Ranboo hovers awkwardly, looking like he wants a hug too, but too shy to actually join. Quackity sticks his hand out to Ranboo, and they shake. "You know how to get out, right?"

Ranboo's mismatched eyes go wide. "Y-yeah."

"OK. I'll be back soon. Hopefully with Schlatt." Quackity grabs his shield and then he's gone with a rustle of feathers, the door clicking shut behind him.

Ranboo locks the door and pushes Tubbo's chair under it. Tommy almost orders him out of the way so he can follow Quackity. Realistically, it isn't like Ranboo would be able to stop him. But he sighs and starts to help instead. Quackity's right. The other two aren't really fighters, and if something does go wrong, Tommy needs to defend them. Tubbo isn't bad in a fight, but all he's ever done is sparring and training. He's never had to fight for his life. Tommy might not fight in the Pit anymore, but at least he has some experience. Tubbo and Ranboo have never been in the Pit. Being close to the boss has its benefits.

"What was Big Q talking about?" Tubbo asks.

"Oh, just...if everything goes wrong, I guess, did I know the way out." Ranboo shuffles his feet nervously. "I can teleport to basically anywhere I can see, if I really concentrate -- we've been, uh, practicing. And stuff. You know."

"Practicing?" Tommy's voice spikes high with incredulity. Ranboo's enderman abilities have always been unreliable at best, only coming out when he's in extreme distress. There's a story behind that, and Tommy doesn't want to pry too far into whatever trauma his friend is hiding, but -- "Come on, man! Are you saying you've been able to just teleport around all this time, and you've been holding out on us? Wait. You and Quackity? Practicing? Together?" 

"We've been practicing too," Tubbo cuts in. "In the dreamland. It's not the same as here, but it's gone pretty well." He bumps Ranboo's arm, trying for a smile. "Don'tcha think so, big man?"

"It's definitely less stressful there," Ranboo allowed. "I'm still not...well, I'm not bad, but I'm still not good."

"So you all knew about this and were just having fun without me," Tommy grumbles. He puffs up his feathers, disgruntled. "What the fuck, guys? That sounds fun. You know how many times you could have saved my ass from falling in parkour?"

"Yeah, we deliberately excluded you," Tubbo says sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "This is actually all about you, Tommy. Not like we were keeping it a secret for really good reasons or anything. Oh, and assuming we all survive whatever the fuck is going on, you can't tell anyone. No. One. Not even Schlatt."

"Especially not Schlatt," Ranboo murmurs.

Why did they think I'm the one who can't keep a secret? Tommy thinks indignantly. He can keep his mouth shut. Most of the time. OK, so maybe he's a bit loud. But when it comes to the safety of the only three people in the world he actually cares about, he could shut up. He doesn't understand what a big deal it is, anyway.

He takes a breath to launch into this tirade, but Tubbo speaks first. "Now I don't know what the fuck is going on," he says, his intonation sounding exactly like his father. "But dying isn't in my plans for today. So let's concentrate, maybe, on staying alive. What have we got in here?"

Reluctantly, Tommy shelves his objections. Tubbo's right. They have other problems.

Turning over the room, they catalogue: one complete set of armor, sized for Tubbo; a spare helmet that fits Ranboo; some extra clothes and blankets; Tubbo and Ranboo's shared hoard of snacks; an old wooden training axe; some water bottles; a jug of liquor Tubbo had stolen from Schlatt; an enchantment table none of them know how to use; various feathers shed from Tommy and Quackity; some books; spare furniture they shove against the door; flint and steel; and assorted knicknacks Tubbo keeps around his room.

Tubbo sighs. "Well, we can last a day or so in here. More if we ration the snacks."

"We should put the lights out," Ranboo says. "So no one knows we're in here."

With the lanterns doused, their spirits darken with the room. Tommy strains his ears for any sound outside the door, tightly gripping the axe. The minutes drag on.

He hears faint shouting, and feels the others tense up beside him. Ranboo is breathing fast, and Tommy's own breath is shaky.

"Fuck this," he whispers. "We can't just sit here waiting."

"But Quackity said -- "

"I know! I know, I'm not stupid." His voice cracks. He swallows. "But I can't stand this fucking waiting. It's torture. Let's -- I don't know, let's play chess. Or make a fucking blanket fort. Something."

Tubbo lets out a long breath. "I think you have a point."

"Chess is a two-person game," Ranboo points out, monotone despite the way Tommy can feel him trembling.

He resists the urge to snap at him. "Fine, I'll referee or something. Where's the board?"

Ranboo and Tubbo dig out the board while Tommy pulls out blankets from a linens chest. If they end up trapped in here for long, he and Ranboo need somewhere to sleep. And it soothes his anxiety, satisfying this instinct to nest. How many times has he watched Quackity do this, arranging the space for the two of them no matter where they were?

Tommy moves blankets and pillows and rearranges Tubbo's room as quietly as he can, making a nest, his bird brain chirping safe, safe, safe. The other two let him do it without comment, and Tommy wraps their space in soft things and blankets that hide them from view until the blanket fort feels like the most secure castle in the world. Until it feels like a pair of wings around them.

He mentally scolds Quackity to be careful.

Finally, after getting the others to help him put Tubbo's mattress in the nest -- fort -- and tweaking the blankets just so, Tommy can relax. They'll be OK to sleep here for a night, until whatever this is blows over.

They end up stuck there for nearly three days.

On the second day, there's fighting right outside the door. The three stand, silent and about to burst with tension, as metal grinds on metal and voices scream and shout in pain. Angry words jumble in Tommy's ears until he doesn't know what anyone is even saying.

Something huge slams against the door, rocking it and jarring all the furniture they've piled up. They all jump. Tubbo swears softly.

Footsteps recede. The hallway grows quiet again.

Blood trickles under the door.

Three teenage boys in one room don't smell too great after a few days of not bathing. The decomposing body outside doesn't help matters. Ranboo's tendency to hoard food and Tubbo's love of snacks has kept them from starving, but it's hard to even eat their abundance of food with the stench outside seeping into the room.

Tubbo already crawled under their blockade to stuff a towel by the door, sopping up the blood. But it's an imperfect solution and the stench remains, a body decaying in the heat and releasing its odors into the air around it. The door blocks the worst of the smell, but it still smells really, really bad.

"I'm gonna fucking vomit," Tommy groans, again. "What if we just opened the door and moved the body?"

"No!" Ranboo and Tubbo speak in unison. "It's the perfect cover," Tubbo explains. He's always been good at cold reasoning, risk-benefit analysis. He can see the logical solution, no matter how questionable it may sound. He's like his father that way. "No one will check in here with a body blocking the door."

Ranboo nods, adding, "It's too dangerous out there. Quackity told us not to open the door for anyone but him or Schlatt."

Tommy finally boils over. "What if it's Quackity out there?" he bursts out. "What if -- " He scrubs furiously at his eyes with one hand. This thought has been eating at him since he woke up. "What if Schlatt...or Q...that body could be...I mean, shouldn't we at least look?"

"No," Tubbo says. His face looks pale in the gloom, but his jaw is set. "If that is Quackity or Schlatt, they wouldn't want us to look. They'd want to protect us."

Frustration is going drive him up a wall. Tommy paces in the small space he has, rustling his wings. He's been cooped up in a small space for too long, the other two boys and now the smell making it feel smaller and smaller. He hates small spaces. They remind him of being in a cage. He misses the sky. It doesn't matter if he can't really fly; he just wants to see the sky again. Fresh air. 

"What if they're both dead?" Ranboo asks quietly. 

Tommy's breathing is loud in his own ears.

"Quackity asked if I knew the way out," Ranboo continues. "He didn't want us to just sit here and wait forever. If he didn't come back, he wanted us to leave without him."

"You can go then," Tommy says roughly. "Fuck off. I'm not leaving without Q."

"You were the one who wanted to open the door in the first place," Tubbo says sharply. "Ranboo's just saying -- "

"Yeah, just to check! Not to leave!" Tommy's fists are balled by his sides, but he can't lash out. So he uses his tongue. "I can't believe you just want to up and ditch them after two days. You fucking -- pathetic -- fucking -- coward! You want to run away, but won't let me open the door just to make sure that's not my own fucking brother out there?"

Tommy bursts into tears. He can't breathe deep enough to get any air, and the air in his mouth reeks of decay and body odor and he's going to vomit. He takes short, quick breaths that hurt his chest, but he can't slow them down. He sinks to his knees and hides his head in his arms. The room is so small; the walls are collapsing and is it really that strange that he wants to just open the damn door?

Someone puts arms around him and he remembers Quackity, stretching out his wing to pull a frightened Tommy to his side. He doesn't know how old he is in this memory, only that he's alone and scared and strange people keep touching his wings. He remembers running his finger along Quackity's clipped primaries, asking how they grew that way. Tommy still has baby down feathers, and Quackity is the first other bird hybrid he's seen here. He's a little older, so Tommy assumes he knows more, and clings to him instinctively. Quackity takes him under his wing without hesitation and they are brothers from that moment. 

Tommy sobs until he falls asleep.

"Hey, big man." Tubbo's voice greets him when he opens his eyes again. Now he sounds soft, compassionate, and apologetic. The coldness has gone. "So, we opened the door, just to check. It's not Quackity or Schlatt out there."

It takes Tommy a second to find his voice. "Thanks."

"We moved the body." Tubbo sighs. "Looked like a human in uniform. Same uniform as that noble who visited. At least it doesn't smell as rank in here."

Tommy nods. He may not know what the hell is going on in the Pit, but at least that body isn't Quackity. Or Schlatt, which he supposes he's happy about for Tubbo's sake. "You OK?" Tubbo asks.

"I don't like small spaces," Tommy mutters.

"My room isn't that small."

"It's...more the feeling of being trapped."

"Yeah." Tubbo turns to look at the door. His hair is greasy and rumpled over his horns. "It's not a good feeling."

Ranboo speaks up. "Me and Tuboo thought we should stay put until we run out of food. Then we'll...go from there. What do you think?"

Not like they would have many other options without food. "Sure," Tommy says. "I, um...sorry for freaking out."

"No problem," Ranboo says. "It's true that I'm a coward."

Tommy winces. "No, man, you're not. I'm sorry."

"It's OK, I forgive you," Ranboo says easily. "We're all a little on edge."

The night passes uneventfully. Ranboo's ears pick up the sounds of fighting a floor away, but he says nothing to the other two.

BANG BANG BANG BANG.

"Open up!"

All three of them jump, and Ranboo slaps his hand over his mouth to keep in a squeak. Tommy is knocked from his sleep, a moment of warmth and calm his only reminder of the dreamland.

"Tubbo!" yells a familiar voice. "I know you're in there! Open the goddamn door!"

"Dad? I mean -- Schlatt?" Tubbo calls. His voice wavers.

"Yeah!" Schlatt barks. He bangs on the door again. It sounds like he's trying to kick it in. "C'mon, Tubbo, open up!"

Tubbo scrambles to pull furniture away from the door. "I'm coming! Just a second, just a second...!"

After a moment of hesitation, Ranboo joins him, helping him move a heavy bookshelf. But Tommy scowls at the door. "Where's Big Q?" he calls.

"I've got him," Schlatt says. "Hurry up."

Tommy stands by the door, not hindering the other two but not helping either. "Q? Are you there?"

No answer. Schlatt growls. "What's taking so fucking long?!"

Ranboo and Tubbo clear the door enough to open it, and Schlatt shoulders his way through sideways. Their barricade shifts with him, dragging across the floor with an unpleasant scraping noise. "Good enough," Schlatt pants, and he turns. He's carrying Quackity in his arms. Tommy freezes. "I'm glad to see you boys alive," Schlatt says. He blinks. "What did you do to the room?"

"Here -- you can put him here," Tubbo says breathlessly, motioning to the mattress in the middle of the room. Schlatt strides over, cursing as he trips on a blanket before kneeling and laying Quackity on the mattress. Schlatt tracks dirt where he steps, and his face is bruised on one cheek and grimy all over. He's armored, with a dented shield slung over his back and blood smeared across his chest.

He sees Tommy watching with wide eyes. "He's alive," Schlatt said. "Just got the wind knocked out of him, I think. I didn't see what happened. C'mere, help me get this armor off him."

Tommy obeys, dropping to his knees by Schlatt and working on the straps to Quackity's chestplate. He's breathing normally, at least. If not for the sweat and blood all over him, he would look peacefully asleep. Tubbo steps in to help as well, coming up with a bottle of water and handing it to his father. "Thanks, kid." Schlatt gulps the water, then pulls Tubbo down into a tight hug. Tubbo looks small like this, crowded against his father's broad chest. He lets out a tiny sob as Schlatt kisses his hair.

"I'm glad you had the brains to stay safe in here," Schlatt says, his voice rougher. He clears his throat and lets Tubbo free from the crushing hug, slinging an arm around his shoulders instead. "Chin up, huh?"

Tubbo nods, sniffing and wiping his eyes. Ranboo slips in beside him unobtrusively, taking his free hand. Schlatt glances at Tommy, meeting unflinching blue eyes, then down at Quackity. He pushes up Quackity's shirt and hisses. "Ouch."

A large bruise blooms across Quackity's stomach, just under his ribs. "He'll be OK," Schlatt says. "This whole place is a kicked anthill right now, but when things settle down, I'll get the brewing stand from the vault and make a healing potion."

"He's had worse," Tommy says. He's had worse from you, he thinks.

Schlatt meets Tommy's eyes with a rueful smile. "You're right," he says with a humorless chuckle. He cups Quackity's cheek, the side with the scar. "He's tougher than he looks."

Schlatt pulls a blanket over Quackity, tucking him in and easing a pillow under his head. It's at times like this that Tommy almost likes the man. Schlatt can be funny, domestic, affectionate. Even sentimental. He's looking at Quackity with undeniable love in his face, and Tommy knows that right now, Schlatt would die for anyone in this room. 

But later, later is the problem. 

They love each other, but Tommy doesn't pretend to understand their relationship. He knows not to ask too many questions, since Schlatt is the reason he and Quackity got out of the Pit fights. Quackity caught the older man's eye one day, and now Schlatt keeps them safe, out of the Pit. Schlatt has also beaten Quackity more badly than any of his opponents in the Pit save the one who gave him that scar. And of course, Schlatt is the reason -- well, a reason, a main reason -- why they're even here to begin with.

Tommy would be lying if he said he hadn't been hoping, just a little, for someone to stab Schlatt during the chaos.

"What's going on out there?" Ranboo asks, tail swishing nervously. "Quackity sort of told us, but...he was in a rush."

"Ah. It's a fuckin' mess." Schlatt sits back with a long sigh. "Where do I start? You know that nobleman, George of House something, who was visiting today?"

"Is that the 'fancy fuck' who got killed?" Tubbo asks, sketching air quotes around Quackity's choice of words.

Schlatt snorts. "Yeah. But you're getting too far ahead. First, Dream and Technoblade tried to escape while the entourage was arriving. We caught them, of course, and then -- "

"Technoblade?" Tommy interrupts. "Wasn't Technoblade the piece of shit who -- "

"Split open your brother's face?" Schlatt says. "Yeah. One and the fuckin' same."

"Dream's the creepy smile guy," Ranboo says with a shudder. "I hate his mask. Smiling faces, or fake faces -- ugh."

"Didn't even know they knew each other," Schlatt says, waving a hand. "They dueled once, a while ago. Ridiculous money. One of my top-earning events of all time. A rematch was in the works, but that'll never happen now."

"And?" Tubbo nudges his father back on topic.

"And, once we caught them, I decided to have a little show for the guest of honor. Throw them in the Pit with next to nothing, see how long they survive." His lips twist into a smile and he chuckles grimly. "We had plenty of volunteers -- everyone wanted to be the one to say they killed Technoblade and Dream. But those two fuckers held them all off. It was beautiful. Everyone watching started placing bets, the guest was happy, my benefactors were loving it..." Schlatt sighs. "Then something happened -- no idea why, but his nobleness George decided to jump down in the Pit."

"What?!" Tommy says. "Wait, why?"

"I just said I don't know," Schlatt snaps. "First I thought he wanted to kill them himself, but then he started attacking our people. His guards and soldiers joined in, so the Pit guards jumped in, and somebody stabbed our noble guest in the back. It was a mess. And now Dream and Technoblade are gone. I've had to spend the last couple days trying to restore some order to this fucking place, when we could have been tracking them."

Schlatt takes another long drink of water. Tubbo frowns thoughtfully. "The people behind the Pit, what do they think of all this?"

Schlatt's eyes glint. "What do you mean?"

"You know, your benefactors," Tubbo says. "The people funding us, they can't be too happy right now."

Schlatt laughs humorlessly. "Let me worry about that. Just sit tight. I'll be back in a few hours with that potion." He lingers, his gaze on Quackity's face. He kisses his cheek before standing and going to the door. "See you soon."

The door clicks shut. Schlatt's presence is huge, and he always seems to suck the air out of a room with him when he goes. "Well," Ranboo says. "That was...interesting."

He and Tubbo discuss it in low voices, moving their barricade back in place. Tommy tunes them out and focuses on Quackity, getting a wet cloth to wipe some of the grime from his face and neck. He checks his pulse, lays a hand on his head to check his temperature, and adjusts the blankets a little. He's more anxious for Quackity than he wants to admit, and it shows in the flutter of his hands as he moves the blankets for the dozenth time. Schlatt's presence has disrupted the nest, and it could use a tidying anyway from having been lived in for three straight days.

Tommy goes around the room, obeying the compulsion to tidy and sort and rearrange. He knows it's annoying to do this to someone else's space, but he can't help it. Besides, it's not like he can just leave. Tubbo doesn't object, though.

Once Tommy's done, Tubbo has a cleaner room and a reinforced blanket fort. All the trash they've accumulated is put in its proper bin instead of strewn around. Tommy even finds the energy to perfect the setup of the barricade.

He sits by Quackity once the nest has been satisfactorily adjusted to accommodate four people. Tubbo is already there, taking a nap with his head on Quackity's shoulder. The two are close. Quackity isn't a second father to Tubbo, not exactly -- they're far too close in age for that. But the younger hybrid looks up to him. Quackity certainly pays Tubbo more attention than Schlatt does. Tubbo won't show it through tears or emotional meltdowns, but he has to have been as worried about Quackity as Tommy was earlier. Tommy feels guilty, but only for a second.

Ranboo is off in one corner, writing in a small book. Tommy keeps watch, preening one wing for something to occupy his hands.

Time drags. Tommy yawns. "I'm not tired," Ranboo says softly. "I'll keep watch."

"Thanks." Tommy lies down, curling up beside Quackity. He stretches one wing over him and Tubbo. Tubbo makes these quiet snores, and normally it would be annoying, but Tommy is just relieved to hear him and Quackity breathing. They are all alive, and together.

And there's still a small chance someone will manage to stab Schlatt. Tommy sends this uncharitable prayer to any deity that might be listening. Quackity might be sad at first, but Tommy thinks he'd get over it.

His dreamland opens up beneath his closed eyelids, a flower forest with wide meadows and a little house atop a floating island in the sky. His soulmate is already there, a tall piglin hybrid with dark hair and a long coat.

"Tommy," Wilbur says, turning to face him. His face is pinched with anxiety. "Are you all right? What about your brother, your friends?"

Tommy remembers now that he spent an entire dream crying on Wilbur's shoulder because he thought Quackity was going to die. Embarrassing. But he doesn't care now. "Yes! Yes, he's OK. We're OK. Well, it's complicated, but -- yeah."

Wil's shoulders slump with relief. "That's good to hear. Fucking hell." He holds his arms out a little. "Can I hug you?"

Tommy engulfs him in a hug. Wil and Ranboo are some of the only people who can make Tommy feel short these days. But he doesn't mind right now. 

He bounces back from the hug, full of restless energy. He's been cooped up in a tiny room for too long, caged in by four walls. "I want to tell you everything," he says. "But I'm about to lose my mind if I don't see the fucking sky. It's been miserable in there, Wil. I'll be right back, I swear!"

Wil smiles and his ear twitches in amusement, softly jingling the nether-made earrings. "Take your time. I can wait." 

Tommy grins and sprints to the edge of their floating island. From here, he can see for miles. He spreads his wings and leaps.

In the dreamland, Tommy's wings aren't clipped. In his dreams, Tommy flies.

Chapter Text

"Hello?" Dream called yet again, cautious. Something in him told him to be careful. He wasn't sure why -- he was alone in a featureless void where he barely felt real himself. It was harder to believe that the nothingness around him was real, and harder still to imagine it contained any kind of threat.

Well, any more threat than the existential, soul-crushing horror of the last two weeks.

Dream had to laugh to himself. If there was someone or something dangerous out here, what were they going to do -- kill him?

Feeling a little more confident, he closed his eyes, thinking. Maybe his problem was trying to apply real-world logic to the dreamland. Ponk had said they'd made their own space here -- or in their own head, or wherever -- through some force of willpower they didn't truly understand.

It seemed like whatever power bound two souls together, it couldn't force them to stay bound if one really fought to break free. And Dream's soul wasn't linked to anyone anymore. So in theory, he should be even freer than Ponk had been to make his own dreamland. Or maybe find a new dreamland? It would help if he had even the tiniest bit of information about where he was.

Who cares? Dream thought. He huffed and discarded logic, for now. He focused on emotion instead.

Something made him start walking in a new direction. He didn't know why; it just felt good. His surroundings felt less gloomy and oppressive the further he walked. It was still dark and lonely, but thinking was easier. He wished he'd asked Ponk more about their experiences out here.

Ponk. The farmer was a fascinating person, far more so than they seemed from the outside. Ponk was brusque but humorous, short with their patience yet able to spend hours in the field looking for a specific root, dragging Dream along to help. Although, now that he thought of it, Ponk hadn't really needed his help. It was more likely that the farmer had taken him along as an excuse not to leave Dream alone. In fact, Ponk was always coming to Dream with little tasks they needed help with and pestering him to get up and "earn your keep, eh?" Dream realized now it had probably all been to keep him busy, keep his mind off...things. And Ponk had shared a devastating personal story to try and help him.

Dream's chest felt tight with emotion as it sank in just how kind Ponk had truly been, throughout his entire stay at the farm. And for what? Some stranger? 

The smell of citrus wafted toward him. Dream froze, surprised. Tentatively, he sniffed. The scent came back to him, stronger than before.

He followed his nose. It smelled like lemons, or maybe limes. Dream stumbled in his eagerness, catching his foot on a bump in...a path. There was a pale dirt path beneath his feet, winding away into the void. His heart thumped loud in his eardrums. He jogged forward, wary of what awaited him but more scared of the darkness behind.

The area around him grew lighter as he jogged. He smelled dirt now, and grass. Dream broke into a full run. His surroundings blurred, sprinkled pale twilight void with colors of green and brown and white. Colors of life. He sprinted like something was chasing him.

The path ended. He was running on thick, lush green grass now, the sounds of early morning all around him. Large, flat paving stones interrupted the grass. They sounded and felt real when he stepped on them, but he felt no ache in his muscles or burn in his lungs from running. He could still smell that lemony citrus tang.

The vision halted abruptly when a person turned the bend of the path. Dream registered their presence just in time to stop himself from crashing headlong into them. Instead, he slid to a halt, slipped on the grass, and fell to the ground at their feet.

"What in the fuck?!" said a familiar voice. Dream looked up, meeting shocked brown eyes. "Green?"

Chapter Text

Ponk stared down at Dream in disbelief. "How are you here?" they demanded.

"I...don't know," Dream said. He was breathing hard like he'd been running, but he didn't feel any burn in his lungs or soreness in his muscles. In the dreamland, he never did. But this wasn't his dreamland. "Where is here?"

"It's -- you're -- " Ponk threw up their hands in disbelief. "This is my dreamland," they said. "How are you here?"

"I don't know." Dream sat back heavily on the grass, trying to gather his thoughts. His breathing was slowing to a normal rate, but the low bubble of panic in his chest made it hard to process whatever was happening. If Ponk disappeared in front of him, too -- if this was all a hallucination or some cruel dream -- then he might actually lose his mind. "I don't know if any of this is real. I don't even know if I'm real."

Ponk took a knee beside him and prodded his shoulder. "You feel real." He lifted Dream's chin. "Hey! Look at me. You're real, I'm real, whatever the hell is happening is real. Got it?"

"Are you sure?" Dream whispered. 

"Of course I'm sure," Ponk said. "This is my dreamland, after all. I don't know how you're here, but...Well, stranger things have happened. Probably. Right?"

Dream bit his lip. "How do you know?"

"If we both remember this in the morning, then we'll know for sure," Ponk said with a shrug. "Easy."

"Oh." Such a simple solution, but Dream had been unable to see it through the fog of hope and panic. "I really hope this isn't a dream."

"It is a dream, silly," Ponk said. "But that doesn't mean it's not real." They poked Dream's shoulder again. "You're here. I don't know how, but you are. And you're real."

"You're sure?" Dream croaked. He felt like he was either about to burst into tears or throw up. Maybe both.

"Yes, stupid," Ponk said. Dream chuckled at the familiar admonishment. "I wouldn't dream up a person this slow and miserable for company, now would I? Huh?"

That got a real laugh out of him. "OK," he said. He cleared his throat. "OK."

Ponk got to their feet and beckoned for Dream to follow. Dream stood slowly, hesitant but curious. "Let's go sit in the shade," Ponk said. "Then we can try to test some theories. C'mon." 

Dream had seen Ponk testing theories before about different herbs and concoctions. He was a little wary about whatever tests they had in mind. But it wasn't like he had anything better to do, or anywhere else to go. He was just relieved not to be alone.

Ponk brought him to a little patio of speckled white stone. The leaves of an enormous tree shaded the table, fire pit, hammock, and other things scattered about the patio. A basket with a pile of fruit sat to one side, and a drink pitcher and lone glass sweated on the table.

"Uh, wait here a minute," Ponk said, shaking their head. "I have another cup around here somewhere. Might have to clean it, though. Not like I get company around here."

"Sure," Dream said, standing there a little awkwardly with his hands tucked into his armpits. He felt too tall and out of place here. Ponk disappeared behind a door set between two trees and Dream bit his tongue, letting the pressure distract him from the anxiety that rose higher the longer Ponk was out of sight. Dream wanted to go after them. He didn't like being left alone, didn't like the question of what would happen to him in this place if Ponk suddenly disappeared. He tamped down the urge to run after them. They were coming back. He just had to wait. 

Ponk opened the door a few minutes later, looking frazzled. "Sorry, I could only find this thing. Should be clean, though. Catch." 

They tossed Dream a scuffed wooden cup. He barely caught it. Ponk dragged a box across the patio to the table and sat, gesturing for Dream to take the chair. Slowly, still feeling like all of this was not quite real, Dream sat. Ponk poured them both a drink from the pitcher. "It's lemonade," they said. "My own recipe." They pointed. Dream followed their finger, craning his neck back to better see the canopy of trees sheltering them. "From my own lemon tree."

"That's...wait, what?" Dream's eyes widened. At first glance, it had looked like they were in a forest of trees. And there were several smaller trees around them, spindly branches and wide, flat leaves catching the sunlight that filtered down through the top of the canopy. But now that he studied the leaves overhead, he realized with wonder that they all belonged to one massive tree. "That's one tree?"

"Yeah," Ponk said, grinning. 

"How? What the...that's incredible." 

"I have my ways," Ponk said, waving dismissively. The light caught golden on their hand. "Helps that this isn't the real world. If I want a giant fucking lemon tree then I can have a giant fucking lemon tree because this is my world. Not anyone else's, not Sam's, mine." Ponk's eyes glinted. "Which brings me to the question of how the hell you got here."

"Was Sam...your soulmate?" Dream asked, dodging the question.

"Yes," Ponk said. "I really want to know how you're here, because I don't want him to find me. I don't know if he can get in, but if you did, maybe he can. I'm happy like this and would rather not deal with him."

"Oh." Dream sipped his lemonade, frowning. He felt dazed, more and more overwhelmed with each new thing he uncovered. "I don't know how I'm here. This is all...I don't even know. I have no idea what's happening to me."

"We have some idea," Ponk said. They produced a book and pencil. "And whatever it is, it's happening to me, too. We don't even know if it's something just happening to us, or if we're causing it somehow. We need to figure out how it's happening, see if we can recreate it. I'll start with a list of possibilities, hmm? Things we have in common. Things that are different. First of all, obviously, we both don't have soulmates." 

Ponk kept talking, scribbling notes in the book as they went. Dream zoned out, too overwhelmed to concentrate on anything they were saying. He was far more focused on the taste of lemonade, the cold glass, the wind on his skin. He had thought he would never experience this again. The dreamland felt real in a way that normal dreams and nightmares didn't. Ponk was speaking quickly and enthusiastically, but Dream just couldn't match their level of interest. He let the other's voice wash over him in a soothing wave.

Ponk stopped speaking. It took Dream a second to register their expectant expression, one eyebrow raised while they looked at him, pencil hovering over the page. They must have asked him a question. "I, um, I'm sorry," he said. Dread rose inside him, beginning to close off his throat. Why hadn't he been listening? What if they were angry at him? "I didn't -- I didn't catch that. I'm sorry. I wasn't really, um..." His voice shrank to a whisper. "Wasn't paying attention. Sorry."

"Oh." Ponk sighed. "Green, this is kind of important."

Dream winced, reading annoyance in their manner. He tried to avert the incoming disaster. "I'm really sorry. I didn't mean any disrespect," he said. He gripped the glass tightly. "I'm just -- tired. It feels like, like I haven't slept in weeks because when I sleep there's just -- the void -- or when I dream I have nightmares, or -- it's not an excuse to be rude, I know. I just can't -- focus -- and I'm sorry, you've been really kind and you're trying to help, I wish I could help, I'm just so -- " Dream was breathing too quickly, his words slurring and vision distorting. He blinked and felt hot tears on his cheeks. "I'm sorry. I'm grateful, I swear, I just can't -- I mean I'll try, but -- just please don't kick me out. I'm sorry."

"Green." Ponk was in front of him, hand on his shoulder as though they could stop the too-fast rise and fall of Dream's shallow, panicked breathing. Ponk's gaze was kind, if worried. "I'm not mad. It's OK. I'm not about to throw you out of here just for that. I don't even know if I could throw you out if I wanted to. Really, it's OK." They sighed. "Wish your friend was here."

Dream covered his mouth with one hand, trying to force back the impending breakdown. Shallow, gasping breaths made it past his fingers and he needed to get air in his lungs but he couldn't. The gratitude at not being kicked out was just as overwhelming as the fear had been.

Ponk surprised him with a hand on his jaw, thumbing away tears as they tilted his face up to meet their eyes. "Focus on me," they said.

Dream tried. He focused on Ponk's hands warm on his shoulders, and the glass of lemonade cold in his hand. He made an effort to notice the brown of Ponk's eyes and the brightly colored wrap around the stump of their wrist. For a brief moment, something golden sparkled in the corner of Dream's eye, but it was gone so quickly he wasn't sure he'd even seen anything. It was probably a trick of the light from sun-dappled leaves and tears.

But he did feel calmer. "I'm so tired," Dream whispered.

"Let's leave this until daytime then, eh?" Ponk said. "Here. I have this fancy hammock for a reason. Why don't you take a nap."

Dream hesitated halfway through standing. "If I fall asleep in your dreamland...doesn't that mean I wake up?"

"Usually," Ponk said with a shrug. "But this is my dreamland, not yours, so it could be different. I don't even know how you're here. I don't know how any of this works. You do look tired, though, so it's worth a try. Maybe you'll be able to get some real rest for once."

"...OK," Dream said. He allowed Ponk to take his elbow and tow him to the hammock. 

"Lie down a little sideways," Ponk said. "That saves your back from aching and saves your ass from dipping too far to the ground."

Dream laughed. He lay in the hammock, adjusting as instructed. It was comfortable like this. The gentle sway of the hammock was almost hypnotic.

Ponk watched the young traveler fall asleep. He was out almost as soon as he laid down. Ponk eyed him closely, waiting for him to disappear. 

But he didn't. Green -- or whatever his name really was -- remained in Ponk's hammock, in Ponk's dreamland, peacefully asleep. Ponk pulled out their notebook and scribbled down their observations.

Green seemed like a bright enough young man, but his mind was clouded by grief. Ponk wished they'd approached the subject with a little more sensitivity, wincing at the memory of Green's dazed confusion and panic when confronted with their own enthusiasm. Green wasn't particularly stable, for obvious reasons. Ponk jotted down a few questions and notes about soulmates and sanity. They felt a little guilty, almost like it was invading Green's privacy to speculate on his mental state -- but Green was the one who had shown up at their dreamland. How he'd gotten to this refuge of Ponk's mind and soul, they couldn't guess. But it probably had something to do with Green's mind, they concluded, so observations on his mental state were fair game for their research notes. 

Ponk gnawed on the end of their pencil -- a habit Sam had hated. Maybe they should make some notes about their own experience losing their soulmate. The time after leaving Sam and before finding himself probably had a lot in common with Green's experiences. They didn't like remembering back then. But if they were going to ask Green a bunch of invasive personal questions, it was only fair that Ponk put themselves through the same scrutiny.

Why am I writing any of this down? Ponk thought. I'll just have to do it again once I wake up...as long as I remember it. They frowned. If they didn't remember when they woke up, it would be good to have some notes here to refer back to. They sighed and poured another glass of lemonade. They'd intended to sort through their junk shed today and weed the flowers. This was as good an excuse to procrastinate as any.

When they were satisfied that Green wasn't going to disappear from the hammock, Ponk set down their book on the small table and went into their storage shed. They emerged with a blanket that they draped over Green. He didn't move. Ponk rested their hand on his shoulder briefly, observing his puffy eyes with dark circles of sleepless care. They felt a stab of pity, and something else. Maybe it was because of their age difference, maybe their similar experience, but Ponk caught themself feeling protective, almost parental, towards the young man. It was absurd on the surface of it -- Green was practically a stranger they'd known for barely over a week. They had no idea who he was or even what his real name was. He was an adult, unstable, and clearly dangerous. People on the right side of the law didn't give false names and pay in nether gold for silence.

But Ponk had never really lived on the right side of the law, either.

Clearly they had more in common than they thought.

Dream woke to see Techno reading one of the books he'd bought. Techno had those glasses perched on his nose, and he barely seemed to notice Dream was awake. But he glanced over when Dream stood up.

"Been doing some reading," Techno said, turning the page. "This one's interesting."

"Yeah?" Dream changed quickly, hoping to catch Ponk to talk about his dream before he lost his nerve.

"There's an appendix on hybrids." Techno settled back against the pillows. He didn't look like he'd be getting up any time soon. "I mean, I know how I was made, but this other stuff is fascinating."

Dream paused. "Made?"

"I was born in the Pit," Techno said. "Bred for it. Piglin hybrids can be quite difficult to capture, you see. Much better to keep some captive stock and raise us from infancy." His voice had turned bitter, a sardonic smile twisting his lips. "Of course, not every hybrid is the same, just like not every human is the same. Some are stronger, some look more piglin or more human. Those who couldn't be turned into a spectacle as fighters..." He shrugged. "I don't know. Hybrids are too valuable to just cull, though, so they're sold off on the black market."

"For what?" Dream asked, before mentally kicking himself. He wasn't so naive that he couldn't think of a reason.

"I'm sure you can imagine," Techno said. He sighed, turning his eyes back to the book. Quietly, he added, "I have a sibling. I just hope they're alive, and weren't cut up for parts."

Dream didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine," Techno said. "I brought it up."

"You..." Dream sat on the end of the bed, unwilling to leave the conversation at that. "Maybe you'll meet them someday. Your si -- sibling." He had to clear his throat. He'd almost said sister. Why did he do that? Techno just shrugged. Dream rambled on. "Well, I don't know how you'd recognize them, but -- maybe they look like you, or sound like you, or -- can you smell if someone's related to you? I don't really know how that works, but -- "

"It's my twin," Techno said dryly. 

"Gods, there are two of you?"

That got a laugh out of Techno. The gloomy air in the room dispersed, somewhat. "If they didn't make the cut for the Pit, they probably don't look much like me," Techno said. "But maybe. And I have these." He raised a hand to his right ear, touching the smallest of his gold earrings. "These two here are part of a set. If they're alive, maybe they have the others. I don't know."

"Maybe," Dream echoed.

"So uh...good morning, then," Techno said, drier than ever, and it was Dream's turn to laugh. 

Before he tracked down Ponk on the farm, Dream got out the book he'd been using as a journal and scribbled down everything he could remember from the previous night. Part of it was practical -- in case it all turned out to be real, he wanted to document the experience so he didn't forget any details. But part of it was just a delay tactic. If he was being honest with himself, he was scared to go find Ponk. Ponk hadn't come to see him first -- and, to be fair, they never did; they had plenty of farm work to do in the mornings. And Dream was pretty sure Technoblade would have eviscerated anyone who tried to wake him up early. But. Still. He couldn't help fearing that Ponk hadn't talked to him yet because Ponk hadn't remembered, and Ponk hadn't remembered because none of it had actually happened and Dream was losing his mind.

Well. Losing his mind even more than he already had.

The anxiety built until he found himself shredding a piece of paper in his fingers, scattering little pieces all over the floor. Dream sighed, twisting one scrap until it was just a tiny ball that he rolled between two fingers.

What would George say? he wondered. George had always been more direct than him, even blunt. George would tell him to just do it already, with that annoyed inflection in his voice that said he didn't understand what Dream's problem was.

Uncertainty had always scared him, though. He'd had so many chances to tell George how he felt, but the same anxiety over his answer had held him back. The suspense of not knowing didn't feel any better -- but at least if he never asked, he didn't have to risk learning a truth he didn't want to hear.

How was that any different from what he was doing now?

Dream unfolded his legs and stood, brushing paper scraps from his pants. He'd clean that up later. Dragging his feet, he made his way downstairs. If Ponk didn't remember their strange visit in the dreamland, was it really so bad? At least it hadn't been the void, or a nightmare. At least he'd gotten some actual rest, for once. 

The dog nosed his hand, making Dream jump slightly. He hadn't noticed her. He stroked her floppy ears, and she blinked at him contentedly. He was worrying too much.

He found Ponk outside tending to a cluster of apple trees. Dream cleared his throat to get the farmer's attention, holding up the glass of water he'd brought. "Thought you might be thirsty," he said. "I mean...it's not lemonade, but..."

Ponk grinned, deepening the wrinkles around their eyes. "Thanks, Green. I appreciate it." They gestured at the trees. "These aren't lemon trees, either, but I make do."

"So...you remember?"

"If you mean do I remember you stumbling into my dreamland, yes," Ponk said. Dream closed his eyes, relief sweeping through him so strongly his knees felt weak. He leaned against the tree to disguise it. He was not losing his mind. He didn't have to be alone in the void. "You drank some lemonade and passed out in the hammock. But..." Ponk held up a finger and pulled out a small notebook. They flipped it open and consulted the pages. "You didn't disappear from my dreamland when you fell asleep and, since you're just now coming to see me, I assume you didn't wake up when I did."

Dream had to laugh. He pulled out his own book, showing Ponk. "I wrote everything down, too," he said. "I thought even if you didn't remember, or it wasn't real, writing down my dreams might help something. I don't know. I don't know how I got there or how to get back or anything, really, I'm just -- " A lump in his throat made it hard to speak. "I'm grateful you let me stay. Here and in your dreamland."

"Hmm. Well." Ponk waved their hand and said gruffly, "Don't mention it. You're a welcome guest as long as you keep behaving yourself."

Dream cracked a small smile. "I'll try. Thank you." He didn't miss the implications of the word guest -- he wouldn't stay here forever. But if he started to think about his next steps after the farm, the crushing impossibility of imagining a future made him dizzy.

For now, being a guest was fine. He would keep putting one foot in front of the other, and trust Techno to lead them in the right direction.

Chapter Text

Hello, writer here. I want to continue this fic but felt strange about doing it after Technoblade's death. Mostly sad, since au!Techno is such a big part of this fic, and so is grief/mourning and death and loss. I think we all miss Technoblade/Alex.

Thank you to Techno for creating a character that inspired so many people. Writing fanfiction really helped me have a creative outlet during a difficult and weird time in my life, especially during corona times. Techno is a legend. He made great content, he was hilarious, he did a lot for charity, and he was a good person who cared. o7

I will be continuing this fic, but I'm not sure when the next chapters will be updated. Not like I've ever had a great posting schedule anyway. I did try to write some more Dream and Techno chapters, but that was too difficult at the time, so I switched to writing more about the past in the Pit with bench boys + Quackity and Schlatt. I really want to keep working on this and I hope that will be ok.

Chapter Text

Quackity wakes up warm, his head pillowed on something soft, and in the moment before full consciousness he hopes it's all been a dream.

Reality settles over him quickly, with a cold finality like the weight of chainmail. Schlatt...

Schlatt must be out there still, because he hadn't been in their dreamland. Quackity had spent the night alone, his soul wandering through their house. White walls and cheerful sunlight, a lake just down the hill. It had been peaceful.

He keeps his eyes closed, as though he can escape back into that elusive dream. But escape is pointless, for him at least. Even if his wings weren't clipped, he's soulbound to this place. To Schlatt. Schlatt is the double-edged sword that protects them all. But now, with the Pit in chaos, blood running down the halls, and angry nobles assembling their lackeys -- maybe the tide is turning. If Schlatt loses control of the Pit, he's a dead man, and so is Quackity, and so are Tubbo and Tommy and Ranboo. Whoever takes over after Schlatt will stamp out whatever supporters he has left. His family will be the first to go.

Quackity's mind races. He needs to help Schlatt regain control of the Pit -- but maybe there's still a chance here for the younger three.

Chaos might be just the opportunity they've been looking for.

He opens his eyes and takes in his surroundings with some confusion. The light is dim and he's disoriented, and it takes him a minute to identify Tubbo's room. Even more of a mess than usual, it's been turned into some kind of blanket fort. Pillows and mattresses and blankets form a comfortable nest with him at the center. On either side, he can feel the warmth of familiar forms. A stray feather tickles his nose.

"Tommy?" Quackity croaks. He clears his throat and tries again. "Tommy?"

"Oh -- you're awake. Good! That's good. That's great, actually." A gleaming pair of mismatched eyes rise up from the mound at his feet. Ranboo has managed to curl his whole tall form into the nest, and now he props himself up on his forearms and stares anxiously at Quackity. "Are you OK? What happened? Schlatt didn't tell us much." 

"Uh...I took a hit. Back end of the axe." Quackity is slowly coming around to an awareness of his body, the dull but fading ache in his abdomen and a slight discomfort where Tubbo's horn is pressed against his arm. He's using it as a pillow, and Quackity doesn't have the heart to wake him up or try to move his arm to a more comfortable position. Tubbo isn't the cuddly type. He doesn't even like hugs. He only really seeks out physical comfort and affection when he's truly distressed. And Tubbo isn't his kid, technically -- hell, he's Tommy's age; he could be Quackity's younger brother -- but his damn bird brain is chirping at him to shelter, protect, lay his wing over Tubbo and kill anyone who comes too close.

"Schlatt brought you here, left, and came back with a potion," Ranboo says. He points. Quackity follows his finger to a shimmering bottle, partly full, nestled among the blankets. "He got you to drink some, but said to take the rest when you wake up."

"OK." Quackity reaches for the bottle, but Ranboo hands it to him before he can take it. He steels himself before downing it all in one gulp, cringing. It's smooth and metallic, and the taste isn't even that bad -- but the memories attached to it are. He almost wants to refuse to take it. It reminds him of the time he nearly died following a disastrous match in the Pit. He'd taken so many healing potions then that he would forever hate the taste.

He's lucky to have access to potions at all; he knows that. Schlatt owns one of the few remaining brewing stands left in the world. It's priceless. Normally he keeps it locked in his most secure vault. Quackity lies back and closes his eyes as the potion goes to work on his insides.

"Uh, Q?"

Quackity opens his eyes. "Yeah?"

"Oh. Nothing. Just, checking. That you were still awake." Ranboo sits with his knees drawn in against his chest, large bat-like ears twitching back and forth as he hones in on sounds from every direction. He hugs his knees tight and stares at Quackity with wide, mismatched eyes, looking lost.

"I'm OK," Quackity assures him. "They just got lucky. The pain's already gone."

"Good. Good." Ranboo nods. He's nodding too much. Just looking at him is giving Quackity secondhand anxiety. "What are we going to do?"

That was the question, wasn't it. "That depends," Quackity says. "How's the teleportation going?"

Ranboo gulps. "Um...I've been practicing. It's easier in the dreamland. Out here it's kind of...hit or miss."

"Give me a number," Quackity says. "From one to ten, if you were running for your life -- ?"

"Maybe a six?" Ranboo says.

"Are you asking me?"

"Six," Ranboo repeats. "Yeah, around there. I get it more times than I fail, but it's hard. I don't know if I'm not concentrating enough or concentrating too much or...what. If I was being chased...I think that might help me, actually. I might get injured, but I don't think I'd be caught."

"OK." Quackity rubs his face, thinking. Now would be the ideal time to make a run for it. If they can escape the fighting, Schlatt's forces will be spread out looking for Dream and Technoblade and taking control of the Pit. Fewer people to look for them. "You haven't tried taking two people with you, though, right? Just Tubbo?"

"No..." Ranboo frowns. "Wait, two people?"

Quackity sighs. "Yeah. Plan hasn't changed."

"But I thought you said -- "

"I lied to Tubbo so he'd keep helping you," Quackity says flatly. "You guys can get out. If I come with you, Schlatt will never stop hunting us. Plus..." He shivers slightly. "I mean, we share a dreamland for fuck's sake. He'd get it out of me eventually. You wouldn't be safe."

Ranboo lowers his eyes, his chin on his knees. His ears droop. "Yeah," he says, voice quiet. Ranboo has understood this from the beginning. It was Tubbo Quackity had had to convince. "What will you tell Tommy?"

"Whatever I have to." He sounds confident, even cold, but internally Quackity feels Iike he's about to burst into tears.

They aren't brothers because they share parents or a flock, but not quite in the same way humans and other hybrids practice adoption, either. Their bond is a result of trauma, survival instincts, and bird brain taking over for two kids who had lost any other sense of a family or flock.

Bird hybrid instincts are...interesting. Quackity remembers being a kid barely older than Tommy. His primaries had just been clipped for the first time. His captors had left deep bruises restraining him long enough to clip his wings. But then a blond kid had come up to him in the holding pen. Tommy's wings were still all fluffy baby down, and he had innocently asked Quackity how his feathers grew that way. 

Tommy had imprinted on him, the only other bird hybrid around and probably the first person in the Pit to be nice to him. Soon Tommy was huddled up asleep under his wing and, whether it was losing his own family or some instinct in him that sought to protect and be protected, Quackity had imprinted on the other boy, too. He feels something similar for Tubbo, though not quite as strong. Damn bird brain, chirping at him to protect his mate's kid. Quackity loves them all, but the bird brain shit is only going to make all of this more painful in the end.

He, Tubbo, and Ranboo haven't told Tommy about the plan supposedly because Quackity worries Tommy will give it away. His brother is very easy to read. 

The deeper reasons are because Tommy is safer if he doesn't know, and he'll object to it when he does find out -- and most of all because Quackity is so afraid to tell him. He wants to delay the moment as long as possible. Tommy will see it as a betrayal, as Quackity abandoning him and choosing Schlatt over all of them, the ones he's supposed to protect. And there's nothing he can do to change that or soften the blow for Tommy -- because Tommy would be partially right. Maybe Quackity is just making it worse the longer he waits, but he can't bring himself to tell him. Not yet.

Tommy lies on his other side, sleeping peacefully. The nest is Tommy's work; Quackity doesn't even have to ask. Tommy is the one who cares about that stuff. He only really did it in the past so that Tommy would learn how. Tommy took to it like, well, a duck to water. He would always make a nest wherever they ended up, even trying to spruce up Quackity's room for him with little twigs and flowers and shiny things he'd found. Quackity had always let him, but where Tommy nests for comfort, Quackity finds this part of being a bird hybrid painful. He gets too attached to a nest, and hates when he has to clean up or change rooms and it is inevitably destroyed. It reminds him of places that should feel safe and aren't. 

This is nice, though.

"I'll let them sleep for now," Quackity says, lying back on the mattress. His stomach aches a bit. "You should try to rest, too."

"Are we going to...you know..." Ranboo trails off, like he's afraid to give voice to the hope of escape in case someone will hear.

Dream and Technoblade had done it. Why not us -- them? With Ranboo, they'll have a better chance at getting away clean than anyone on foot. And when Tommy molts and his primaries grow and there's no one to clip his wings, they'll have the advantage of flight as well. 

This is real. It's really happening.

They're really leaving.

Quackity stares at the ceiling. Despite what he tells Ranboo, he doesn't want to rest. He wants to lie here and absorb this nest and the people in it into his memory. 

"Q?"

"Yeah," he says, quietly determined. "Soon. You'll never get a better chance than this."

Chapter Text

Alike:

• No soulmate, no soul bond
• Originally in the void
• Feels like there's something else in the void.
• walking in the void.
• Tea before bedtime?

Different:

• Ages
• Looks (Ponk is much more good-looking)
• Genders
• Sam is alive and Green's soulmate is dead
• Green didn't wake up when went to sleep in Ponk's dreamland
• Green is human
• Two hands and one hand

"I don't think the hands have anything to do with it," Green said.

Ponk looked at him askance. "Really? Losing a body part and losing my soulmate aren't connected?"

"No -- I mean, yeah, they could be for you, but why would that have anything to do with me?"

"I don't know, Green," Ponk said. "That's why we're writing down everything we can think of."

Green crossed his arms. They were comparing notes outside in the fresh air, while Floof snuffled around their feet. Ponk was glad the dog had taken so well to Green, even if they were a little jealous. "See, I feel like you're avoiding the obvious," Green said. "You just skipped past the part where you're not human. That seems more important than the fact that I have both hands."

Ponk waved their stump dismissively. "Non-humans are more common than you think, Green."

"Oh, I know, believe me."

"I'm not saying it's not relevant," Ponk said. "I'm just saying that I don't think it's any more or less relevant than anything else on the list."

"But what if..." A shadow fell over the young man's face, his forehead creasing. He fell silent.

Ponk waited. He still didn't finish the thought. "What are you thinking, Green?"

"What if it's not a human thing?" Green said quietly. He reached out for Floof, who huffed and leaned her head against his leg. "What if you were able to leave your soulmate and make your own dreamland because of an inherited hybrid thing, and I can't because I'm human?"

Ponk had considered this possibility, but they were reluctant to believe it. "I thought about that," they said, making an effort to sound authoritative and confident for Green's sake. "But if you being human mattered, why were you able to find me in the first place? Doesn't make sense."

"Oh." Green visibly relaxed. "Oh. Uh, yeah. I didn't think of that." He paused, frowning. "If my soul can find your dreamland to visit, then...does that make us soulmates?"

"I don't think so," Ponk said, as kindly as they could. They'd been afraid of this question, too. 

"But I felt..." Green gestured vaguely from himself to Ponk. "It was like this pull. I was thinking about you and I felt a sort of draw in one direction, so I just followed it, and I found you. If I can find and share your dreamland, doesn't...doesn't that make us soulmates?"

Ponk considered for a long moment, wondering how best to say this. Green's voice was hopeful and his eyes were wide, almost pleading. It felt heartless to have to quash that -- but it would be worse to give him false hope.

"I want to help you however I can," they said. "But I don't think we're soulmates. A couple reasons -- first being that you were able to sleep while visiting my dreamland and not wake up here. Sam and I always woke up in the real world whenever we fell asleep in the dreamland. That seems to say that whatever is holding you there, it's different than what works for soulmates."

"Could you be, though?" Green asked. "I mean...maybe we could...find out how to become soulmates?"

Ponk smiled sadly. "I'm sorry, Green," they said, sympathetic but firm. "But I know we're not soulmates because I don't want a soulmate. I like what I have."

"Oh."

"I went through a lot to have my own place and make my soul my own, you know?" Ponk said with a shrug. "Last time I had a soulmate he cut off my hand! So I'm not eager to have one again, even if I did know how to make a new soul bond."

Green's mouth twitched in a smile. "I promise not to cut off your other hand."

Ponk chuckled. "I'm happy alone; I'm proud of what I built. I like you, Green, and I want to help you, but...I can't help you like that. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry," Green said. He cleared his throat. "I think I understand. I just thought...maybe...I don't know. That maybe if it's possible to break a soul bond by yourself, it's possible to make a new one."

"I don't see why not."

"Yeah. And -- and it's not like -- I don't want to replace him, you know?" Green said. He swiped a hand quickly over his eyes. 

"Of course."

"I just want..." He bit his lip. "I don't know. I don't want to feel like I'm losing my mind. I just want to get some real sleep."

"I'll help you with that," Ponk promised. "As much as I can. Now, where were we?"

"You were telling me how you're not human."

Ponk sighed in exasperation. "It's not that important! Let's focus on other things. We can come back to that later."

"It's not a problem for me," Green said. "I mean, you probably guessed that. Not like I would be traveling with T -- Pink if I cared that he's not human."

"You're being awfully nosy."

"So you're allowed to ask awkward personal questions and I'm not?"

Ponk laughed. "You can ask, but I might not answer."

"That's fair," Green conceded. "What kind of hybrid are you?"

Ponk's eyes twinkled and nearly disappeared into their broad smile. "I'm not a hybrid."

"...But you're not..." Green cocked his head to one side, looking a bit like a confused Floof. It was amusing. 

"I'm not a human, and I'm not a hybrid," Ponk said smugly. "I'm something else entirely. Now are we going to discuss your dreams, or are you going to keep prying?"

Green was frowning at them thoughtfully. "Hannah too?"

"That's confidential information. I couldn't possibly disclose someone's human-or-not status."

"Interesting. So is Hannah a hybrid or is she like you?"

"I never said she was anything."

"You wouldn't care about telling me if she was human," Green pointed out with an eyeroll. "Come on, now."

"Pink was right about not letting you talk," Ponk grumbled. "Manipulative little shit."

Green grinned. "Sounds about right. You could make that my new nickname...just to remind yourself, you know."

And of course, Green could say something cheeky like that with enough charm that Ponk didn't want to immediately punch him. Ponk muttered under their breath and crossed their arms, putting on a show of being more annoyed than they really were. Although from the small smile and look in his eyes, Ponk guessed Green saw through the act. He was remarkably perceptive for a human. And he'd had Ponk pretty well figured out for a while now. Ponk had quickly developed a soft spot for Green. Pink was, frankly, intimidating; they hadn't forgotten the way he'd snarled and nearly attacked Hannah for daring to touch his friend the first night here. Green, though he was surely just as dangerous as his companion, just seemed...lost. It was hard not to care. It was less Green's silver tongue and more Ponk's fondness for him that had led them to share more information than they probably should have.

Ponk felt a sly smile creep over their features. "Speaking of nicknames. I have a deal to offer you."

"Oh?"

"I'll tell you what I am," Ponk said, "if you tell me your real name."

Green's eyes widened. He seemed to actually be considering it. Then he winced. "Well...I can't without asking Pink first." 

"You could."

"But I shouldn't."

"Fair enough," Ponk said, grinning. "I guess I probably shouldn't tell you anything without talking to Hannah first, anyway. So. Where were we, then, hmm?"

Green sighed. "Differences between the two of us."

"Right." Ponk tapped the page. "Did you say you were thinking about me the other night?"

"Yes..."

They added an item to the differences list: Green was thinking about me in void. "What, you mean you weren't thinking about me?" Green asked, mock-offended.

Ponk jotted down what Green had described to them about the journey from the void to their dreamland. "Yeah, yeah."

"I'm taller than you; you should write that down."

Ponk rolled their eyes. "Irrelevant. Anyway, these are all just observations. We won't really know what's going on until we're able to get results we can repeat."

"OK...but how? Where do we even start? What if I can't find you again?"

Ponk laid a hand on Green's arm. "We'll figure it out. It will be OK."

Green nodded, though he didn't look entirely convinced. "I hope you're right."

Dream doodled in his journal after talking to Ponk. He'd written down everything relevant already. Reading it again had only heightened the thrum of anxiety in his chest. He drew instead, trying to keep his mind off things. He sketched a mushroom and some trees. That reminded him too much of the dreamland he'd lost, and George. He wanted to remember their time together, but drawing the dreamland without drawing George just reminded Dream that he was gone forever. Dream wished he was better at drawing faces; maybe then he could sketch George.

How long would he remember him? What if he forgot what George looked like? Sometime in the future when he was old and grey-haired -- 

Panic surged up in his gut. Dream shoved the future out of his mind. If he thought about the possibility of years -- decades -- ahead of him without his soulmate, he would lose his mind. He just had to do this day by day. He'd promised Techno he would try to live, and he didn't know how to do that if he started thinking about the future.

He took refuge in the past for now, sketching fond memories and random items from childhood. His first wooden training axe. A cat he used to feed. Buttons engraved with a sheep's head and curling horns in profile. Dream imagined them as gold, although he only had charcoal. He sketched a coat in the top left corner of the page, followed by the hilt of a saber -- an image that came to him out of nowhere, but that felt like it belonged with the buttons and coat. 

It was relaxing. He could let his mind drift, just like he did when he was petting the dog. He had a natural knack for drawing, even if a real artist would probably scoff at his illustrations.

What might his life have been like if he'd never come to the Pit? Could he have become an artist? A mapmaker? A merchant or an explorer of distant oceans?

Wood, under his hands. A map, dotted lines and contours of land just barely visible where he peeks over the top of the table. Someone lifts him up high, and he stares with fascination at the world laid out before him.

Dream blinked, caught off-guard by the memory. He closed his eyes, trying to bring it into further clarity. He's young, being carried against someone's hip. Infuriatingly, he could picture the map and instruments in his mind's eye almost perfectly -- but the face of the person holding him slipped away.

He scribbled randomly on the page, annoyed. He could try to sketch the map, he supposed, but he doubted it was really accurate. More likely his mind filling in the gaps between what he remembered as a child and his adult knowledge of maps. And he hadn't been able to read back then -- so even if he'd seen the names of towns and countries, he wouldn't have remembered them anyway.

He imagined a wanted poster for the woman from his childhood memories. WANTED: WOMAN WITH HORNS AND RED COAT. He snorted. At least the portrait he would draw for that poster would be better than his and Techno's. Techno's wanted poster barely resembled him at all.

Maybe the mystery woman looked like Dream. Wanted: Mother. She couldn't be his mother, though, not with those horns. Dream was simply human. Whoever she was, she'd taken care of him; all those memories felt safe and serene. Which only made the question of what had happened to her and how Dream had ended up in the Pit more disturbing. It was like a bug bite that he knew he shouldn't scratch, but couldn't help it. There was no good answer. She might be dead, but she might also be alive. Best case scenario, someone out there had lost him and he'd grown up to be a killer, someone she wouldn't recognize or want back anyway. But there were darker possibilities. She could have given him up, maybe unable to take care of him. Maybe she'd fully intended to come back for him, once she got back on her feet. But maybe she'd just abandoned him -- left him somewhere and let fate take care of it. Worst case scenario, she had sold him to the Pit. 

He really wanted to believe she was good and had loved him and that they'd been happy. But if she had been a mother to him, he couldn't see how he'd ended up here unless she was dead. And he had more grief than he could handle already. It would be too much like remembering George only to lose him. Dream was curious -- of course he was curious -- but if he was to keep his promise to Techno, it was probably better not to remember.

A knock at the front door made him jump to his feet, his shoulders immediately tense. Ponk, Hannah, and Techno had no reason to knock. He padded silently to the front room, where Hannah was already reaching for the handle. Dream tucked himself against the wall of the adjoining room, listening.

"Hello," Hannah said. "What are you doing here?"

"Good to see you, too."

"Sorry," Hannah said with a shrug. "I just didn't expect to see you all the way out here. What's up?"

"Sorry to bother you." The voice was deep and gruff. "Normally I'd pretend to be mad, but it's important. Can I come in?"

"Of course." Hannah stepped aside from the door, welcoming the visitor inside. Dream shrank back into the shadows, unsure of whether he should let himself be seen or not. Hannah trusted this person, but Dream was in the habit of being on the run. He'd assess the threat before revealing himself.

The visitor was nearly as tall as Dream. But where Dream's hair was dark blond, their hair was stark white, falling around their ears. His eyes were a cloudy gray, his skin very pale. "Do you have any water?" they asked.

"Just through here." Hannah called him into the kitchen. "There's a stream with a shady part out back, too."

"I remember."

The scrape of chairs being pulled from the table covered Dream's footsteps as he flitted to a better vantage point. "So what is it? Did something happen?"

"Ponk should be here too," the visitor said.

Hannah sighed in annoyance. "Fine, fine, wait til I sit down to make me get Ponk. I see how it is."

The other chuckled. "Yeah, yeah."

Hannah's light footsteps faded from earshot. Dream worried at his bottom lip. It was a risk, but if Hannah trusted them...He'd like to find out what he could about the visitor without someone around to act as a buffer. Dream backed up down the hall and then made a show of walking towards the kitchen, announcing his presence with clumsy footsteps. He entered the room.

No one was there.

Dream blinked. The person had been sitting at the table seconds ago, their back to the door. Dream had seen them take off their hat and set it on the table. Now there was a hat, but no visitor.

"Hello?" he said cautiously. "Hannah? I thought I heard someone come in. Are you there?"

Only the birds outside answered him. Dream frowned and approached the table. His sketch notebook lay open at the far end, the green hat resting innocuously at one of the chairs. He reached for the hat, curious.

A clammy hand seized his wrist. "Don't touch the hat."

Dream squawked in surprise and sprang back, wrenching his hand from the stranger's strong grip. What the hell? It was extremely difficult to get the jump on him. He hadn't been at his best since the Pit, but he should have noticed someone get that close before they grabbed him. "I was just looking," he muttered. "Sorry."

"No problem." The visitor put the hat back on, though, covering their messy white hair. Pale eyes looked Dream up and down, assessing. "Do you live here?"

"Uh, no. Yes. Sort of, yeah. We're boarding here. Me and my friend." Dream stumbled over the words. The gray gaze of the stranger was a little unnerving. "Who are you?"

"I'm Boomer." They stuck out their hand for Dream to shake. "Who are you?"

Dream shook their hand. Their skin was cool, nearly cold. "I'm D -- " He choked back the words, alarmed. He'd nearly given his real name. What the hell? he thought for the second time. Boomer tilted his head to one side, raising an eyebrow.

Dream pulled free of the handshake. "My name's Green," he lied. He felt drawn to Boomer's pale grey eyes -- but not in a good way. Not that he wasn't attractive, but Dream didn't like the way those eyes drew his focus. It felt like he had to look at them. He recalled Ponk's revelation that neither they nor Hannah were human -- or any kind of human hybrid. If this guest was one of their friends, maybe they weren't human either. Until he knew more about Boomer, Dream's defenses were up. He looked around the room to avoid their eyes. "Was Hannah here? I was looking for her."

"Just missed her," Boomer said. He drifted to the other end of the table. Dream watched surreptitiously, observing the stranger for...he wasn't sure. Anything, really. A lifetime in the Pit had sharpened his intuition. He'd seen his fair share of unusual people, so he wasn't phased by the unfamiliar. But something told him to watch Boomer. Boomer caught his gaze and gave him a small smile. Dream smiled back automatically, easily adopting a pleasant mask. "She went to get Ponk. Should be back soon."

"Oh." Dream rocked back on his heels. "So...you're a friend of theirs?"

"Yeah."

Boomer volunteered nothing more than that. "Good to meet you, then," Dream said, going for charm. He slid into a chair. "They're nice people."

"They are." Boomer glanced down at Dream's open notebook.

"How'd you meet them?" 

Boomer didn't answer. He was staring at the page. They tapped the paper. "Did you or your friend draw this?"

"Yeah, I did." Dream itched to snatch the sketchbook away like Boomer had snatched his hat back. He kept his posture relaxed.

Boomer looked up at him then, those grey eyes piercing. He tapped the page again. "Interesting."

"They're just sketches." Dream shrugged. "Do you draw?"

Boomer lifted one shoulder noncommittally. "Not very well. Drawing things from my life, though, it can be interesting. Helps me remember stuff. I've seen a lot."

"Yeah?" This felt like progress. "I bet you have some stories."

"Seems like you do, too."

Nothing he'd drawn seemed particularly unique or interesting to Dream. "Not really."

"Really." Boomer glanced down at his notebook again, then met his eyes. "How'd you end up here?"

Blood, people screaming. Techno by his side, taking a blow to shield him from a cut that would absolutely have killed him. Dream kicks out, spins, drives his axe through the attacker's neck.

Dream blinked. The moment had flashed before his eyes almost like it had just happened. The only thing in front of him was Boomer's face, though, those gray pools of their eyes filling his vision. Dream's palms felt sweaty. He swallowed. "Just needed a place to stay for a while. Travelling, looking for work. You know how it is."

"Sure."

Relief swept through him at the sound of Hannah and Ponk's footsteps. Dream swallowed again. His mouth was dry, his throat tight with the first fingers of panic around his neck. He hadn't been exactly stable for the last few days, but he at least knew where the fuck he was most of the time. He hadn't lost time, hadn't lost himself again. Whatever the fuck had just happened scared him.

"Boomer!" Ponk exclaimed. They clapped the visitor on the shoulder. "Long time, no see."

"Good to see you, too." Boomer hugged them. When had Hannah and Ponk come back?

The three of them seemed to Dream to be very far away. He blinked in slow motion. Stood. Said something -- he wasn't sure what -- to Hannah and Ponk. Roaring filled his ears and it reminded him of the rapids at the base of the cliff. He needed to find Techno before he could drown. Where's Techno?

"What?" Hannah asked, tilting her head to one side.

He'd said that out loud. He'd asked for Techno by name. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Dream's breath caught. He made some excuse and left as quickly as he could without actually running, leaving his sketchbook open on the table behind him. 

Where the fuck was he? Dream dug his fingernails into his arm, trying to stave off the slow blink of time passing by him. He couldn't do this again. Techno had told him to come find him if he ever wanted to die again. He wasn't suddenly feeling suicidal, not exactly -- but he was feeling something less than sane. He was trying so hard to stay present but he could feel himself drifting anyway. He didn't know what he'd do like this.

The last time he could remember seeing Techno was by the stream near the back of the farm. Dream made his way over there slowly, his ears ringing. He forgot what he was looking for halfway there, only knowing that he was going to the stream for some reason. He'd washed clothes with Techno there, the first day here. How long ago had that been? How long had it been since George died? He couldn't get a grasp on it, and that realization made him sick with guilt.

He sank to his knees by the water and splashed some in his face, but it didn't help. He was cognizant enough still to know he was losing himself, but he didn't know how to stop it. He was alone. George was gone. Techno was gone. Dream splashed his way into the middle of the stream to dunk his his entire head underwater, but nothing changed. He felt dizzy.

And then he didn't feel anything.

He just stood there in the shade, staring blankly at the small waterfall, with water pouring from his wet hair. He took a deep breath. And another. And ducked under the water.