Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Technoblade announced he was going to break Dream out of prison, Philza thought he was joking.

He barely glanced up from the book he was reading, eyes flicking up to Techno, standing in the doorway. “Have fun, mate,” he said easily.

“I’m serious, Phil,” Techno said, his tone level.

Philza closed his book with a sigh, turning his full attention to him. He was dressed in full Netherite, sword and potions his belt. His expression was dark and serious. “You're… what?” Philza asked blankly.

“I’m getting Dream out of prison,” Techno repeated. “He’s been in there long enough.”

“He called in his favor?”

Techno snorted. “He has had absolutely zero communication in or out of the prison other than Sam and, from what I can tell, Quackity. He doesn’t have a way to call in a favor. I’m still getting him out. If it makes you happy, sure, this is for the favor.”

“And the real reason?” Philza asked, raising an eyebrow.

“We’re friends, Phil.” Techno sighed. “Or, we were. Once. Just… I never expected him to get stuck in prison in the first place, and I thought he’d be out by now, anyway. He's been in there almost a full year now. I don’t know much about the prison, but that’s too long for him to be in there. It’s gotta be driving him crazy. Besides that, it’s a clear abuse of authority. Not like there was a trial or anything.” His tone is bitter, and Philza thinks he understands.

“Like how there wasn’t for you?” he asked gently.

Techno huffed. “Maybe. Regardless, I’m getting him out. I’m not asking you to help —“

“‘Course I’ll help,” Philza said, surprised. “If it’s important to you, it’s important to me. What do you need?”

“Mainly just a place to take him after I get him out,” Techno said, his relief evident. “The Server’ll be in a storm, and I need to know you won’t like… tell anyone he’s here.”

Philza frowned. “Mate, I’m not going to sell you or him out like that. So long as he doesn’t try anything to hurt anyone, he’s welcome to stay here. Besides, who knows what state he’ll be in after a year of being stuck in prison?”

Techno nodded. “Thank you, Phil.”

“Don’t mention it. You want me to come?”

“Nah, I got this. Got a whole plan and everything, it’s actually pretty pog. I would explain all the details to ya, but I need to get going. Small timeframe of opportunity and all. See you soon,” Techno said, nodding.

“Be safe,” Philza warned. “If you don’t come back by nightfall, I’m coming after you. And I promise, it will not be pretty.”

“I plan to be back well before nightfall,” Techno promised. “S’long as Dream doesn’t drag his feet. Thanks again, Phil.” And then he was gone, vanished into the whirling snow outside.

***

Because Techno was Techno, breaking into the most secure prison on the Server, and Philza preferred to be over prepared, he set up a rather large amount of medical supplies while his friend was gone. He didn’t expect to really need them, but it was good to have them on hand, just in case.

He kept the fire burning high as well, keeping the house warm as the swirling snow outside darkened into a storm.

After setting up anything he felt was necessary, Philza settled into a chair to wait. It was too stormy to be worth trying to do anything outside, and while he wasn’t worried about Techno, he didn’t feel like trying to do anything else.

As sunset drew nearer, however, he started to get… not worried, but on-edge. He started pacing back and forth, occasionally peering out the window to check for Techno. He knew his friend wouldn’t return on a failed mission, so it must just be taking longer than expected. No one in the Server was his equal in combat… except maybe Dream. Philza had no doubt Techno would return. So something must just be keeping him.

Philza decided that if Techno wasn’t back within the hour, he was going to get him. And possibly stab anyone who had kept him.

Fortunately, it didn’t come to that.

Not much later, just as the sun was reaching the horizon, Philza caught sight of a reddish smudge in the snowstorm. He darted to the front door, wrenching it open.

“Tech —!” he started, then drew back, eyes wide when he saw what — who — Techno was cradling in his arms. Dream. Unconscious, unmoving. The only thing Philza could really register was the sheer amount of red that was just covering him. “— what — what happened?”

“Nothing good,” Techno answered, his tone dark as he pushed past Philza, into the bright warmth of the house that suddenly felt cold. “I didn’t have much on me by way of healing potions, just enough to keep him alive — oh, you’ve got some out already. Good.”

Techno carefully laid the unresponsive Dream on the couch, immediately turning to the table and grabbing a healing potion. “Phil, I could really use your help here,” he called back, his voice tight.

Philza shook himself, slamming the door and hurrying over, folding his wings behind him. “Prime,” Philza breathed, staring down at Dream for a moment. “That’s… Prime.” He didn’t have the words for the horror that was clawing up in him. Philza was the Angel of Death. He had seen many injuries and bloodshed over the course of his immortal life. But this….

Dream seemed to be more injured skin than clear, with cuts, bruises, burns, and far, far too much red covering every inch of him. His eyes were closed, and he was clearly unconscious (no wonder), but he still trembled, every strained breath catching in his throat, like even breathing was a struggle.

If Philza had had any doubts about harboring Dream, they had vanished the second he opened the door. He swiftly went into action alongside Techno, trying to deal with Dream’s injuries as well he could. It was hard to know where to even start. The sheer amount of damage done to him… how was he even still alive?

“This didn’t happen when you got out,” Philza said as he worked. It was more a statement than a question. These were not injuries that a person got while escaping prison. These were injuries that a person got from torture.

Techno slowly shook his head, intent on carefully cleaning and wrapping a particularly deep cut on Dream’s shoulder. “He was like this when I found him. The cell was covered in blood, Philza. Even Chat thought it was too much.” There was an equal mix of pain and anger in his voice, and when Philza briefly glanced up at his face, he saw that Techno’s irises were a bright, blood red. They were typically a deep brown shade, but shifted to more red whenever Chat acted up. They must be screaming at him now, Philza realized. Emotions running high, all this blood. It was amazing Techno was as calm as he was.

“Dream was awake when I found him,” Techno went on, speaking slowly and carefully, the anger in his voice barely veiled. “Barely. He didn’t look at me, didn’t even seem to realize I was there. The alarm was going off, y’know, and he was just… curled up on himself. Didn’t respond to anything. I basically had to carry him here, he passed out almost as soon as I picked him up.” Techno let a long, slow breath out through his nose, deep hatred for whoever had done this flashing through his eyes. “Phil… I’m going to murder someone.”

“We gotta help Dream first, mate,” Philza said, his voice carefully gentle, calming, for Techno’s sake, even with the dark anger that was filling him as well. “It’s not an exaggeration to say that he will be dead if we don’t fix him.” He was still trying to comprehend the full extent of the damage done to Dream. For every injury that he tried to clean and bandage as best he could, he found another. Beyond the obvious surface damage, he clearly had broken bones as well, which were just as big of a concern. He was also far, far too thin.

“I need to set his broken bones,” Philza said quietly, after nearly an hour of working, trying to keep the unconscious Dream alive. “Otherwise they won’t heal right. He — he might wake up, Techno. Try to keep him calm if he does, alright? The last thing we need is him freaking out.”

Techno nodded. His breaths were slow and uneven, and his hands were shaking slightly. It was amazing he’d managed to help Dream at all right now. The voices must be so loud. He was determined.

Philza took a deep, bracing breath, and quickly set himself to the task of setting Dream’s broken bones. From what he could tell, there were two broken ribs that needed to be dealt with, as well as a bone in his right arm, and several of his fingers. 

He managed to set, splint, and bandage almost all of them before Dream woke up.

The injured man didn’t open his eyes, but he tensed, a deep shudder running through him. His breaths sped up, and his hands — which Philza had been moving to next — clenched, in spite of the broken bones.

“It’s alright, Dream,” Techno assured him, moving a hand to put it on the injured man’s shoulder. “You’re safe.”

His words seemed to have the opposite effect as intended, and Dream only tensed further, eyes still squeezed shut, shifting on the couch in a weak attempt to move away. A pained, distressed sound escaped him, and Techno looked worriedly to Philza for help.

“Dream, mate, you’re safe,” Philza said, keeping his voice low and calming. “We’re trying to help. I need you to hold still, okay?”

Dream whimpered softly, and the sound — so pained and broken — was almost worse than anything else that had happened so far. He did still, though; almost disturbingly quickly, his only movement now the trembling in his hands, the unsteady rise and fall of his chest. Philza noted again with another pang of worry and anger how thin Dream was. Had they been starving him? On top of everything else?

Now wasn’t the time.

Moving quickly, Philza set and bandaged the rest of Dream’s broken bones, doing one last sweep over the rest of him to make sure they hadn’t missed anything. He didn’t see anything. It wasn’t pretty, but Dream would live. He would be alright. Hopefully.

Throughout the process, Dream didn’t so much as flinch, which was worrying on its own.

“We’re done, Dream,” Philza said gently. He reached over to the table, and retrieved a regen potion. “You did well. Here, you should drink this. It’ll help.” He knew it would be difficult to get Dream to actually drink it while lying down, but having him sit up with so many injuries seemed far too risky.

Philza uncorked the potion bottle, and held it to Dream’s lips, waiting. A slight, panicked breath escaped Dream, but he opened his mouth without resisting, swallowing the potion that Philza gave him. Some of it ran out and dripped down the side of his face, and Philza brushed it off.

Dream’s eyelids fluttered for a moment like he was going to open them, but instead he slumped back into the couch, dropping back into unconsciousness.

Philza corked the potion bottle again — still half full — and leaned back with a sigh of relief. “He’ll live,” he confirmed, as soon as Techno opened his mouth.

His friend closed it again, and nodded, looking back over at Dream. “That’s… that’s good. Good. I — I need a minute,” Techno grunted, forcing himself to his feet. “Chat’s been screaming and I gotta go hit something or I —“ He let out a breath. “Can you…?”

“I’ll watch over him,” Philza promised. “You’ve done well too, mate. I know this must be hard for you.”

Techno huffed. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t the one bleeding out in a prison cell. Don’t let him die, Phil.” Techno left the room, sword in hand. A moment later, Philza heard the front door slam, as Techno left into the dark storm. He had done it before. He needed to get out the pent-up anger and bloodlust both Chat and the whole cursed situation had caused. 

Philza was worried about him, but knew he would be alright. At the moment, Dream was a bigger concern.

Philza brushed a strand of matted, bloodstained hair out of Dream’s face. He looked young. Far too young for everything that had happened to him. Too young for the scars that crisscrossed his face, the bruises discoloring his skin.

Letting out a slow breath, Philza started gathering up all the medical supplies now scattered around the couch, leaving several healing and regeneration potions on the table for whenever Dream woke up.

He was going to need them.

***

Techno returned a few hours earlier, breathing heavily. Judging by the splinters caught in his cloak, he had taken out his anger on an unfortunate tree. He looked utterly exhausted.

“Go to bed,” Philza said, not unkindly. “I’ll look after him.”

The whole day really must have taken a toll on him, because Techno didn’t protest. “Wake me up if there’s any change,” he muttered, and stumbled into his room.

Philza turned his attention back to Dream, watching with worry furrowing his brow as the man trembled on the couch, blood already starting to seep through some of his bandages.

***

Dream didn’t wake up for hours. And when he finally did, it wasn’t pretty.

Philza had moved into the chair in front of the fire, turning it so he was still facing Dream, eyes half closed as he watched him.

A deep shudder ran through Dream, and his breath caught. Philza blinked rapidly to get himself more awake, leaning forward and readying himself to get up.

Dream stilled, and Philza thought he must have fallen back asleep before a panicked noise escaped him, and he jolted upright, heedless of his bandages and injuries.

“Dream!” Philza said quickly, darting over, the feathers on his wings ruffling. “Mate, it’s alright, calm down.”

Dream didn’t seem to hear him. He was gasping and panting, one hand pressed over his throat, while the other clenched in the fabric underneath him. His hand moved frantically around, desperately searching for something. Unsure of what to do, Philza gently caught Dream’s hand with his, stilling its frantic motion.

Dream seemed to cease breathing. His eyes finally opened, and he turned towards Philza, eyes wide, shaking like a leaf, but not pulling away.

And it was then that Philza realized what they had missed when tending to Dream’s injuries. Just one small, critical thing.

A deep slash across his face. Old enough that it wasn't bleeding anymore, and they had passed over it in the face of more pressing injuries. Only it had apparently been far, far worse than they realized. It went horizontally across his face, and had caused thin cuts across Dream’s eyes. So small and almost unnoticeable. But they had done so much damage. Dream’s eyes were cloudy and gray, flicking back and forth as they fought, in vain, to see something.

Dream was blind.

Whoever had caused these injuries had blinded him.

Cold numbness spread over Philza, but he shook it off, because Dream needed help, needed him to be calm for him.

“Dream,” he said slowly, carefully. “Do you know where you are?”

Dream didn’t react for a long moment. His cloudy eyes were still flicking around the room, though Philza doubted he was actually seeing anything. One hand was still at his throat, the other was still as stone under Philza’s light grip.

Finally, hesitantly, Dream shook his head. His breaths started to speed up again, before slowing once again, like he was trying to make himself to be calm.

“You're in mine and Technoblade’s house,” Philza said. “In the arctic. Far away.”

Dream shook his head again.

“Techno got you out,” Philza said. “Remember?”

No response. Despite his clear efforts to do otherwise, Dream’s breaths were speeding up again, erratic and strained. He was still trembling, but barely, like he was forcing himself to keep still. The sight made something break inside Philza.

“You’re safe,” Philza said. “You’re safe here, Dream.”

He hesitated, then moved his hand away. Dream instantly drew it up so both hands were pressed against his chest, drawn tight against him. His fingers rubbed automatically over the bandages on the other hand, and he was making that odd, whimpering sound again.

Philza glanced over at the half-closed door to Techno’s room. “Techno!” he called from where he was crouched beside the couch, unwilling to leave Dream’s side. “Wake up, Dream’s — oh, no.” He hurriedly turned back to Dream, who had flinched violently at his raised tone, pressing himself back into the couch. His eyes were wide with unbridled terror.

“Mate, Dream, I’m sorry,” Philza said hurriedly. “You’re alright, you’re safe, I promise, I won’t hurt you.”

Techno was in the room now, dropping down beside the couch. Dream drew back at once, another panicked noise escaping him, before he quickly cut it off, like he was afraid to make any noise. “Dream, you good?” Techno asked quickly. “Never mind, stupid question. But you’re  safe, man. I got you out of prison, you’re never — Phil, what’s wrong with his eyes.” His voice, so concerned a moment ago, shifted to blankness in an instant. “What’s wrong with them.”

“He can’t see us,” Philza said quietly. “I didn’t… it must have been like that for a while, the rest of the cut’s already scarred over.”

Techno was staring at Dream with a look of utmost horror on his face. Dream was breathing heavily, panic written all over his face and body language.

“Dream…,” Techno said at last. “We’re not going to hurt you. Can — can I touch you?”

Dream didn’t react beyond another slight whimper, drawing, if possible, even further in on himself, his unseeing eyes wide with terror.

“I wanna help you, Dream,” Techno said, his voice low. “But you gotta let me, okay? Can you do that?”

All the tension seemed to drain out of Dream at the question, and for the first time since Techno had brought him back, he spoke. His voice was quiet and hoarse and it sounded like he hadn’t spoken — or even wanted to speak — in months, but he still spoke. “…yes, sir.” 

Philza inhaled sharply, at the same time Techno jerked back liked he’d been burned. They exchanged a look that held all the horrified words they didn’t dare say in front of Dream.

The injured man didn’t respond to that, his eyes cast downward. He wasn’t moving now, beyond the uncontrollable trembling in his hands.

Techno briefly closed his eyes, then reached out, and put a hand on Dream’s shoulder, rubbing it comfortingly up and down his arm. “It’s alright,” Techno said softly. “It’ll be alright. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Dream had tensed at the initial contact, but soon after relaxed, leaning into the touch. Philza wondered with a pang how long it had been since anyone had touched him without the intent to hurt.

“You know who I am, right?” Techno asked quietly. “It’s Techno. Remember? Technoblade. We’re… friends.”

Dream’s shattered gaze flickered, and he turned towards Techno, unseeing eyes looking past him. “…Tech?” he mumbled.

“Yeah,” Techno said. “It’s me. You’re in mine and Philza’s house.”

“…you're… here?” Dream’s voice was so so quiet that Philza could barely hear him.

“I’m here,” Techno said. “And I promise, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Techno….” An odd sound, part sob, part strangled gasp, came out of Dream, and he all but fell into Techno’s embrace, gripping the front of his shirt, and dissolving into near-silent sobs.

Techno held him tightly, mumbling soft words of comfort, his gaze full of warmth and pain and anger, though his voice was still calm and soothing.

Philza let Dream cry himself out for a while, before he took a healing potion from the table, and nudged Techno’s shoulder. “We gotta get some potions into him,” Philza said under his breath. “Otherwise what we’ve already done isn’t going to be enough.”

“Dream, we have a healing potion for you,” Techno said softly. “Are you up to drinking it?”

Dream’s sobs had shifted to choked, stifled breaths, and he was still buried in Techno’s shirt, but he nodded, turning his face towards Philza.

Not trusting Dream’s shaky grip, and knowing how important it was for him to drink it, Philza  held the bottle to Dream’s lips again. Dream flinched slightly when it touched him, but he obediently opened his mouth, drinking almost the entire healing potion. 

Philza let out a sigh of relief. “Good job, Dream. You’ve done well. Are you hungry? Do you want anything?”

Dream shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut and turning back to hide himself in Techno’s shirt, gripping it tightly with shaking hands.

Nodding, unsure of what else he could do for Dream just then, Philza moved back into his chair, letting Techno mumble soft, encouraging words to Dream until he fell asleep again.

***

When Dream woke up, the surface under him was soft, and he didn’t know what it was. It scared him, and his breath caught, a slight gasp escaping him before he remembered he was supposed to always stay quiet unless ordered not to, and he forced himself into silence. 

His mind raced to try and figure out what was happening, where he was, because it was soft and warm here, not hard and burning, and he didn’t understand.

It took him a few minutes to remember what had happened. To register that he was leaning up against someone. And that that someone was Techno. 

Techno. Techno had gotten him out. He said so. And Technoblade had never lied to him, right? And this didn’t feel like prison. But there was still something wrapped tight around his wrists, something that felt far too much like restraints, and it made his breath catch.

He pushed himself upright, and his hands fumbled to feel the things on his wrists, to claw at it, to get it off him —

“Woah, Dream,” a rumbling voice said, right next to him, and he immediately froze, terror pounding through him. “You shouldn’t pick at your bandages like that, they’re meant to help, y’know.”

Bandages.

Because… he was hurt? That was why people got bandages, right? He hadn’t had any in prison. But why was Techno helping him? He’d already gotten him out of prison; wasn't that the favor fulfilled? Dream couldn’t remember calling it in, but that had to be the reason Techno was helping him, because why else would someone help him?

Dream turned his head towards the sound of Techno’s voice, wishing with almost painful longing that he could see. He hadn’t been able to see anything for months, not since — He cut himself off there, because he was about to be upset about it, and he couldn’t be upset about it because he deserved it and he might cry if he had to think about it and relive it again (and again and again and again) and he wasn’t supposed to make any noise. He’d already messed up by talking earlier; he couldn’t do it again, not after Techno was being so nice to him.

So instead he just nodded, dropping his gaze to the floor. Or, he hoped, anyway. It was so hard to tell now, where he was actually looking. But sir didn’t like Dream staring at him, and Dream didn’t know what Techno wanted yet, so he opted to just follow the same rules. He clenched his hands in front of him, very determinedly not picking at the bandages, even though he could feel them all over him and he hated it.

“That’s better,” Techno said, an odd note of relief in his tone. “Now that you’re awake, we gotta get some food in you. You look half-starved. Not a great look on you, if I’m being honest, and you’re not gonna heal if you don’t eat something.” He started to rise, but Dream didn’t want him to go and a distressed sound escaped him before he could stop it.

He regretted it instantly, but Techno just settled back down, and didn’t say anything about it. “Phil, could you get something for him?” he asked quietly.

Dream heard a soft affirmation, someone shifting, then footsteps across a hard surface. He didn’t move, still hunched over on the soft something (a bed? a couch? he didn’t know), hands clenched in front of him.

A few moments later, the footsteps returned, and Dream felt something touch his hand. He flinched, then automatically unclenched his hands, waiting with painful anticipation for whatever the person was going to do. Something smooth and round was pressed into his hands. He ran his fingers over it, trying to figure out what it was.

“It’s an apple,” the person who wasn’t Techno — was it really Philza? — said. “I figured something light would be better.”

An apple. So it was food, then. Food that wasn’t raw potatoes. Dream wanted to cry. He wanted to eat it, to finally taste something that wasn’t raw potatoes or his own blood.

But he didn’t. He sat and waited, the apple still held in both hands, resting in his lap.

“You… gonna eat it?” Techno asked, sounding partially perplexed, partially concerned.

He wanted to. He really, really wanted to. But although Philza had handed it to him, he hadn’t given him permission to eat it yet. Dream’s hunger was a physical pain in his chest, clawing at his insides, but he wasn’t going to eat without permission. He could be good. He hadn’t done very well so far — he had made so much noise and he was being such an inconvenience already — but he was trying.

So he didn't move, trying very hard to keep his hands from shaking, though he knew it was a lost cause.

“You… you know you can eat it, right?” Techno said slowly. “If you want to?”

Dream turned his head slightly towards the sound of his voice, furrowing his brow. What was Techno talking about? Dream couldn’t eat it. He hadn’t been told he was allowed to yet.

Philza made a soft noise that sounded halfway between a huff and a noise of comprehension. His wings shifted, hundreds of feathers rubbing up against each other with a soft swishing noise. “Dream, you’re allowed to eat it,” Philza said, his voice low. “You’re always allowed to eat here, alright?”

That didn’t make much sense to Dream. He was only allowed to eat if he was good, and he knew he wasn’t always good. Still, Philza had given him permission, so he must be doing alright, at least, even though he had messed up by talking earlier.

Dream lifted the piece of fruit almost automatically, and took a small bite out of it. Sweetness flooded through his mouth, and it was so strange to eat something that wasn’t a raw potato. He wasn’t quite sure if he liked it. He hated potatoes. But he wasn’t sure how he felt about this apple yet. It tasted so so good. It didn’t feel right to eat it.

But Philza had told him he was allowed to eat it, and Philza wanted him to eat it, he had said so, so Dream ate it. 

Neither Philza nor Techno said anything, but he could feel their stares, their silent conversation between each other. 

Dream had felt so incredibly hungry before, but he was nowhere done with the apple when his stomach started to cramp. The small apple suddenly seemed like far too much.

He fingered the smooth skin of the fruit, picking at the stem, trying to convince himself to keep eating it. He wondered vaguely what color it was. 

“Mate…?” Philza said softly. “You don’t have to finish it if you don’t want to.”

Didn’t he? They had given it to him, and he didn’t want to waste it. Waste it more than they already were, giving it to him. Did Philza not want him to eat it anymore?

Dream shook his head, trying to clear it. Everything was unfamiliar here, he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t form a clear picture of the room in his mind. Prime, he couldn’t form a clear picture of Techno in his mind.

“Here,” Philza said gently, and something removed the half-eaten apple from his hands. Dream didn’t resist it being taken. He felt an embarrassing mixture of shame and longing that he couldn’t quite explain.

“You did really well, Dream, we’re proud of you for eating something,” Techno said. “Do you want another potion?”

He hesitated, letting his eyes wander around the room. Try as he might, he could never quite suppress the constant urge to try and see something. Was he supposed to want another potion? He still hurt, he hurt everywhere, but he always hurt. No one was hurting him now, and that in itself was far more than he deserved. Techno and Philza were wasting enough resources on him.

Dream shook his head. 

He could almost feel their disapproving stares, and he wilted under the weight of them, hunching in on himself, automatically trying to make himself smaller.

“…Alright,” Techno said at last. There wasn’t any disappointment in his voice, just a kind of sadness, and that almost felt worse, somehow. “That’s okay, Dream. We have an actual bed we can put you in now; Philza got it all set up for you. Are you up for walking, or…?”

He nodded. Of course he was, if Techno wanted him to. He could do that. He could be good.

“C’mon then, nerd,” Techno said. “Here.”

With Techno’s help, Dream managed to get himself into a standing position, leaning heavily against the piglin hybrid. He hadn’t really stood up without sir dragging him upright in a long time, and his legs felt shaky and weak, barely able to keep him up.

“Let’s go,” Techno said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. Dream felt him start forward, one arm supporting him, and Dream hurried to move with him, one hand hesitantly out in front of him, lest he run into something. He knew where everything was in the prison, in the one small space that he was allowed, but he knew next to nothing about Techno’s house. 

He felt something soft under his bare, bandaged feet, then what felt like hard wood. He was panting by the time Techno led him to the edge of what must have been a bed, his breaths burning in his chest. The wood base of the bed pressed against his shins.

“Do you need help getting in?” Techno asked, one arm still supporting him.

Dream didn’t respond, too focused on trying to figure out the bed, how he was supposed to get on it. He hadn’t had a bed in so long. And now he couldn’t even see it, couldn’t see where he was supposed to go. He was still shaking.

Techno gave no sign of being frustrated as he helped Dream into the bed, adjusted his bandages, pulled the blankets over him. Dream immediately felt far, far too trapped, far too vulnerable in the midst of all this softness, all of it pressing in around him. He whined involuntarily in protest, and Techno pulled back the blankets again, leaving him lying on his back on top of the sheets. It still felt like far too much, but this was better, and Dream relaxed slightly. Barely. It wasn’t hard like the obsidian floor and walls he was used to, and he didn’t trust it.

But Techno was trying to help him, so he should be grateful. He still didn’t know if he should speak or not — he had done it earlier but he still wasn’t sure if it was a good choice or not — so instead he just reached a hand out into the impenetrable darkness that was all he could see now.

Techno caught it in his, and Dream squeezed it slightly with what limited strength he had, before drawing his hand back and pulling it against his chest next to his other one. He knew his wrists weren’t cuffed together anymore, but he couldn’t help the habit of keeping them close together. He closed his eyes, and felt a bit better. This way, it at least felt it should be dark, and he could pretend everything was fine. 

Dream hurt everywhere, and his heart was still pounding, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of everything that just refused to make sense. He knew Techno was helping him, but beyond the favor that had to be paid by now, he didn’t understand why. Nothing made sense anymore. It was exhausting.

Prime, he was so tired.

“Sleep well, nerd,” Techno said, his voice sounding like it was coming from somewhere far off.

He said something else, but Dream didn’t hear it.

***

Dream had been out of prison for maybe two full days, and he slept for about ninety percent of that. Whenever he woke up, he seemed shaky and unsure and disturbingly quiet, his cloudy gray eyes looking fearfully around without seeing anything.

It made Techno want to fight the whole world, and do whatever it took to make Dream better. Because the Dream he knew was confident bordering on cocky, always one step ahead, laughing and cracking jokes while acting like he was on top of the world. He was the type to brush off a broken bone like it was nothing.

Prison had destroyed him. 

Techno had always been overprotective of things he considered his, he knew that. It was a trait all piglins — hybrids or no — shared. Dream was his enemy, then his rival, and then his friend. He was his friend. And no one hurt his friends and got away with it.

But revenge would have to wait, because for now, helping Dream get better was the priority.

After Techno had helped Dream into bed, the man had passed out again almost immediately, and proceeded to sleep for several more hours. He occasionally shifted around, making odd, distressed sounds.

Techno watched him like a hawk from his chair by the window, wishing he could do more, do something, anything. He felt utterly useless.

Dream’s breath shuddered in his chest, and he inhaled sharply. He was so thin that Techno could count every one of his ribs under the bandages. His eyelids fluttered, his hands clenched, and then he screamed.

Techno was instantly on his feet, crossing the room in two strides to be at Dream’s side. He reached out to grab Dream’s shoulder, to shake him awake, then immediately thought better of it. Touch with Dream had always been iffy at best, and since prison it had gotten so much worse. Techno didn’t want Dream to think he was trying to hurt him.

“Dream!” Techno said, trying to keep his voice level and calming. “Dream, it’s alright, wake up, you’re fine —“

Dream screamed again, his eyes still squeezed shut. He was curled up in on himself, impossibly tense, his arms pressed protectively over his head. His motions had caused fresh blood to stain his bandages, and he was obviously in pain. Techno had to wake him up.

“Dream, calm down! Dream, you’re not there, you’re at my house, you’re safe —“

“What’s wrong?” Philza panted, appearing in the doorway, his wings spread wide, a sword in hand. “What happened?”

“He’s —“

Dream screamed like someone was driving a blade into him, his frantic breaths turning to sobs.

“— having a nightmare or something,” Techno finished. Deciding that it really couldn’t get worse, he put his hand on Dream’s shoulder, on one of the few places that wasn’t covered in bandages. He started rubbing circles into it, trying to calm him down, to indicate to him that he was safe.

Dream didn’t scream again, but the words he started to breathlessly mutter were almost worse. “— please, please, sir, stop, please — I’m sorry, I’m sorry, sir it hurts — please stop —“

“Dream, he’s not here,” Techno said, pushing aside the stab of horror that had gone through him at Dream’s words. “It’s just Techno, just Philza, you’re in a bed at our house, you’re safe.” Realizing it really wasn’t doing any good, he drew his hand back from Dream, as Philza came over, dropping down beside the bed, concern all over his face. He obviously wanted to help, but both of them knew that more people trying to help might just make it worse.

“— please, it hurts, sir, I can’t see — I can’t —“ Dream’s voice broke, and he dissolved into sobs again.

“I’m not him, Dream,” Techno said. “He’s not here. It’s just us. Can you hear me, Dream? Shhh, it’s okay. It’s okay. It’s alright”

Dream’s whole body was still shuddering with suppressed sobs, but he gasped out words in between them. “‘m sorry, ‘m sorry, I didn’t — I’ll be good, I’ll be good, please don’t —“

“Dream, it’s okay. You have nothing to be sorry about,” Philza said softly. “You’re safe, alright, mate?”

“Dream, you don’t have to apologize,” Techno said, keeping his voice low. “Shh. It’s okay. You’re safe here. Can you hear me?”

“Y — yes,” Dream managed. “Yes sir. I — I’m sorry, sir. I’ll be quiet, sir.”

“You don’t —“ Techno broke off, looking helplessly at Phil, who had to have some idea of what to do. Philza looked just as lost as he felt. But how could anyone be prepared for a situation like this? “It’s okay, Dream,” Techno said at last. “You’re okay. It’s… it’s all gonna be okay.”

“I’ll be good,” Dream mumbled. His sobs had quieted, his words sounding strained and utterly exhausted. “I… I’ll be good, sir.” His whole body relaxed just a fraction, his arms over his head sliding off as he was dragged back into unconsciousness.

Techno stared down at him, at an absolute loss, Chat muttering at the back of his mind “Phil…,” he said.

“I know,” Philza sighed. “I know, mate.”

“Phil, I gotta help him,” Techno said. “How — how do you…?”

“I don’t know. We’ll have to wait and see,” Philza said, shrugging helplessly. “I mean, I know how to deal with panicking, and nightmares, and I know how to deal with injuries, but this… this is something different. It might help when he actually, fully wakes up long enough for him to understand what’s actually going on. He’s only been here two days, mate,” Phil added gently.

Techno sighed, feeling utterly helpless as he looked down at his friend’s face, twisted with pain even as he slept. “I know, Phil. I… I should have gotten him sooner. Prime, if I had known this was happening….”

“But you didn’t know,” Philza said firmly, rising. “You didn’t know, there’s no way you could have. It’s not your fault, Techno. There’s no way to change what happened. All we can do is try to help him now.”

Techno nodded, unable to find anything else to say to that. He knew Phil was right. Phil usually was. But he still felt terrible.

“You’re going to get better,” Techno told Dream. “I promise.”

Dream gave no sign that he heard.

***

Dream knew he must have woken up at some point. He remembered waking up. He didn’t know what had happened. Hopefully, he hadn’t done anything wrong.

When he woke up again, he pushed himself into a sitting position, wincing at the pain that shot through his chest. He had a vague memory of the blunt side of an axe being slammed repeatedly into his chest, the sharp sensation of his ribs snapping. But it didn’t matter, because he wasn’t in prison anymore. Unless Techno and Philza decided to send him back.

They wouldn’t… do that, right? They kept insisting he was safe. But Techno no longer owed him a favor. Dream didn’t have that protection anymore. They had no reason to help him anymore. But maybe, if he was good enough, they at least wouldn’t send him back to prison.

What was bad was that it didn’t even matter, because even if they just kicked him out, he couldn’t see. He couldn’t do anything to protect himself from threats, because he couldn’t see them.

He would be totally defenseless.

Like he had been in prison.

Like he was now.

“Dream?”

Dream’s head whipped towards the unexpected sound, relaxing ever so slightly when he realized a few beats later it was Techno.

“You awake? Like, actually awake?”

Dream slowly nodded. So he had woken up before. He hadn’t done anything wrong, had he? Techno would tell him if he had, right? He would punish him. Because that’s how it worked. If he did something bad, he was punished. If he was good, he wasn’t punished. Not as much, anyway.

“Are you… alright?” Techno asked hesitantly. Something — Techno’s foot? — tapped against the wood floor, an uneven rhythm.

Dream nodded again. His throat hurt terribly, though. He wanted something to drink, something to take away the bitter taste in his mouth, soothe his aching throat. He didn’t know where water was, though, or how he would even get it, if he was even allowed.

“Can I get you anything?” Techno continued. “Food? Healing potion? Water?” He paused after each word, giving Dream a chance to respond. Hesitantly, Dream nodded after the last word.

“Okay. I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere, alright?”

Something scraped against the floor, and footsteps crossed the room. Dream waited obediently, his fingertips tracing over the sheets and blankets, trying to figure them out. 

After what felt like a long time, Techno’s footsteps returned, stopping right beside Dream, who had turned his head to follow the sound. 

“I have water for you. Do you want help, or can you hold it?”

He said it in such a way that Dream had absolutely no idea what the right answer was. Which one was he supposed to choose? He flexed his fingers, wincing slightly at the pain in them. He didn’t think he could hold a cup without dropping it. But did Techno want him to?

“Here,” Techno said gently, and Dream felt the smooth edge of a glass against his lips. His hands went up automatically to touch the cup as he drank it, for some semblance of control. He must have drunk the whole thing, because after a while, water stopped coming, and Techno withdrew the cup.

“Do you want anything else, Dream?” Techno asked. “It’s okay if you want to talk. You’re allowed to talk, I’m not going to hurt you.”

…He wasn’t? Dream didn’t know if he believed that. Even breathing too loudly had gotten him punished and hurt by sir. Techno was different, Dream knew that, but he couldn’t quite believe that Techno wouldn’t hurt him. He had once thought the Warden was his friend, too. And look at where that had gotten him.

So Dream didn’t respond. He hadn’t been ordered to say anything, just invited, and Techno wouldn’t hurt him for not saying anything now, right?

There was was a soft patterning sound as footsteps crossed the hard floor, and Philza’s calm, even voice came from where the door must be. “Good morning, Dream.”

Dream nodded in what he guessed to be his general direction.

“Is it alright if I take a look at your eyes, Dream?” Philza asked. “I want to see if there’s anything I can do for them.”

Dream hesitated, his hands reflexively clenching. There wasn’t anything Philza could do to make them worse, right? And if Dream refused, Philza would just do it anyway. He nodded slowly, inhaling shakily.

“Alright,” Philza said, his voice sounding closer now. “I’m gonna have to touch you, okay? I won’t hurt you.”

He felt hands gently touch his face, and he blinked, trying very very hard not to pull away. Philza drew back his eyelid, ran his fingers lightly over the scarring next to his eyes. He must be very close to him. Dream could feel him breathing.

“Can you look up, Dream? Just with your eyes?” Philza asked, not unkindly.

Dream tried to do as directed, though he was unsure if he did it well or not. He could rarely tell where he was looking anymore.

“Good job. Very well done. Can you look down?”

Dream obeyed.

“Alright.” Philza’s hands withdrew, and Dream relaxed slightly, blinking rapidly. “Can you see anything, Dream? Anything at all? The light from the window, maybe?”

There was a window? Dream wanted to see the window, wanted to see the light from it. He suddenly wanted to see the sunlight so much that it hurt. But he couldn’t. He turned his head slowly, eyes wide, trying desperately to see something. He shook his head. He couldn’t see. Philza must be so disappointed. Tears sprung up in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Dream,” Philza said gently. “I’ll look into it more, see if there’s anything I can do, alright? You’ve done really well, mate.”

Dream nodded, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Dream,” Techno said hesitantly. “It’s — you need to know it’s okay if you talk. You’re allowed to talk, alright? I don’t know what happened… where you were before… but you’re allowed to talk here. It’s cool if you don’t want to, but know that you’re always… allowed, okay?”

Hesitating, moistening his lips, Dream didn’t respond for a long moment. But because Techno had made such a point to tell him, he forced himself to say something. “O—kay,” he mumbled. “Okay.”

Techno made a huffing noise that sounded like relief. “We’d never hurt you, Dream, alright? We’re never going to hurt you. You’re safe here.”

Feeling like he’d exhausted his ability to speak, Dream just nodded. Techno’s words didn’t really make… sense. But he wouldn’t lie to Dream, would he? Techno hadn’t hurt him at all yet. Maybe he… really wouldn’t.

It was hard to believe that.

***

Over the next two weeks, Dream was making good progress recovering physically. He was still injured, he still would be for weeks or months longer, but he was no longer on death’s door, and he no longer slept for ninety percent of the day. He was healing well.

Techno tried to be happy about that, but the fact that there were so many other things still hurting Dream made it hard.

He still couldn’t see. Nothing Philza and Techno had tried had worked, and his eyes were still as empty as ever.

In addition, he was still horribly thin. They tried to encourage him to eat, offered a variety of different foods to him, but he barely ate any of it, and trying to force him felt fundamentally wrong, especially when his relationship with eating was already so twisted. From what Techno and Phil had gathered, Dream had had very limited food in prison, and he was never permitted to eat even that without ‘permission.’ This presented its own set of challenges now that he was out, because he never touched the food they gave him unless they stated specifically that he was allowed to eat it. They were trying to convince him he was always ‘allowed,’ but it was an uphill battle.

There was also the issue that Dream almost never spoke. Going beyond that, he almost never made any noise, period. And whenever he did, he stumbled over himself and choked on his own sobs trying to keep himself quiet. No matter what Techno and Philza tried to do, Dream still didn’t seem to think it was okay for him to make noise. He still occasionally said things, in a very low, shivery voice, but only when one of them asked him a direct question, and sometimes not even then.

Dream acted like he was afraid they would murder him if he so much as breathed wrong, and it made Techno want to burn the prison and anyone who had hurt Dream to the ground.

The only reason why he hadn’t yet was that he didn’t want to leave Dream’s side. Though staying with him presented its own challenges.

Dream had a unpredictable relationship with touch. Sometimes he flinched away or tensed up horribly if one of them even went near him. Sometimes he leaned desperately into them and clung to their embrace like it was the only real thing in the world. It was hard to know what he was feeling in any particular moment, and therefore it was always hard to comfort him.

But, Prime, did Techno want to. He wanted nothing more than to make it all better, but this wasn’t the type of enemy you could fight with a sword. Mental battles were always so much harder to fight.

Just over two weeks had passed since Techno had broken Dream out of prison, and the man had finally gotten well enough that he could leave his bed. He was currently curled up on the wide window seat in the living room, his eyes closed, face tilted towards the late morning sunlight. The fingers on one hand were pressed against the glass, the other hand planted firmly beside him. Something they had figured out was that Dream always wanted to be touching something solid, something to ground himself against.

Techno tapped his foot softly against the floor, giving Dream a heads up that he was there. “Hey, man,” he said softly. “You… doing okay?”

Dream had turned to face Techno when he spoke, his eyes opening without seeing anything. His fingers tapped lightly against the glass of the window. Finally, he shook his head.

Techno wilted slightly, both feeling glad that Dream felt comfortable enough to actually communicate that he wasn’t okay, and terrible that Dream felt unwell enough to actually say something about it. Well, not really say. But let him know. “Can I get you anything?” Techno asked, moving a bit closer, but still leaving a good few feet between them. “Food? Water? Healing potion?” They’d actually been trying to use less healing potions lately, since Dream didn’t need them as much, and it had been getting to an unhealthy level. But if Dream asked for one, Techno wasn’t about to refuse.

Dream shook his head after each word that Techno said. His brow furrowed, he tapped the glass of the window again.

“Do you… want me to leave?” Techno asked uncertainly.

Dream shook his head more emphatically. “…want…,” he mumbled. He tapped the glass again. “…out.”

“You want to go outside?” Techno asked, relieved when Dream nodded. “We can definitely do that. Can I touch you?”

Dream hesitated, then nodded, moving his hand away from the window, and reaching towards Techno.

He moved over to catch Dream’s hand in his, then helped him carefully to his feet, one arm protectively around his back to make sure he didn’t fall.

“Let’s get you outside,” Techno said. “Come on.” He led Dream across the floor, carefully avoiding anything that Dream might run into. “There’s a step here,” he said as they reached the front door. “Just down a bit. Yep, that’s it. There you go.”

Dream cautiously edged his foot over the small ledge, settling it firmly onto the floor below before moving his other foot down. It occurred to Techno that he probably should have gotten some shoes for Dream, but it would probably be fine. He doubted they’d be going that far outside, anyway.

Techno moved his hand away from Dream for a moment to pull open the door, before putting his hand protectively against Dream’s back again. “Here we go,” he said, leading him forward.

Dream stepped outside onto the front porch area, one hand out in front of him a bit, the other gripping tightly onto Techno. He blinked rapidly at the sudden cold, the cool breeze whistling over them.

Techno surveyed the surrounding area, eyes narrowed as he searched for any potential threats. He didn’t see any, but there could have been people with invis, or just hidden. It wasn’t exactly safe out here. But he didn’t feel like this was something he could deny Dream, so he just opted to be extra on-guard.

Dream’s eyes were wide, and he shifted a step away from Techno, further outside. He inhaled deeply, then let it out slowly.

“You want to talk?” Techno asked quietly after a few moments. 

Dream shook his head, still breathing slowly. He reached out, feeling the air, and his hand hit against the railing. He flinched slightly, then shifted his hand so that he was holding on to it. He slowly drew his other hand away from Techno, and moved it onto the railing as well. He was facing out over the arctic, towards the forest, with the range of mountains behind it. Techno wasn’t one to appreciate nature, but he hadn’t appreciated a view more than now, when he ached with pain because Dream couldn’t see it.

Techno shifted a step back, giving Dream space, his eyes still flicking over the landscape, warily contemplating every ridge, every drift of snow. 

They stayed there for almost ten minutes in silence. Dream started shivering in the cold wind, and Techno pulled off his cape and settled it onto Dream, who barely flinched at the sudden contact. It probably would be better to just take him back inside, but Dream wanted to be out here. Techno realized with a pang it was probably the first time he’d been outside — while conscious — since he’d been thrown in prison.

Dream’s hands were red with cold, clenched against the railing. If they stayed out here much longer, Techno was going to go find him some gloves or something. He wondered if Dream’s sense of temperature had been destroyed by the prison as well. He’d seen the obsidian cell Dream had been stuck in, surrounded with lava. Techno had come from the Nether, and it felt overly warm even to him. That alone would be torturous to be stuck in for so long.

“I… missed this,” Dream said, his voice low and hoarse and unexpected. “Being… out.”

Techno didn’t respond, waiting. This was the most Dream had said in literal days, and he didn’t want to interrupt him if there was more he wanted to say.

Dream took a slow breath. “Th — thank you. For… all this.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for, Dream,” Techno said softly, unable to help himself. “Friends help each other, alright?”

“I don’t deserve it,” Dream mumbled.

“Yes… you do. You’re definitely deserving of basic human decency.”

“Is….” Dream trailed off, hunching his shoulders under Techno’s cape. Techno waited, letting Dream figure out what he wanted to say. “You don’t… the favor?”

Techno blinked with surprise. “This isn’t about the favor, Dream. That was me getting you out of prison. That’s over now. I’m helping you now because I want to. Because you’re my friend.”

Dream fell silent, brow furrowed. He fingered the wood grain of the railing under his hands. “Tech… I don’t….” He fumbled for the words, cutting himself off again. His unseeing eyes flicked over to Techno, then away again, his whole body tensing. Techno waited patiently. “Do I have to leave?” Dream whispered.

“Wh — no!” Techno said indignantly. Dream flinched, and Techno immediately apologized, lowering his voice. “Sorry, that’s my bad. No, of course you don’t have to leave. You can stay here as long as you want. I’m not about to kick you out on the curb, nerd. You’re still homeless, remember?”

The weak joke fell flat. Dream didn’t respond.

Techno sighed. “Dream, I’m not ever going to make you leave, alright? You can stay here forever if you want. It’s alright.”

Dream inhaled shakily. He closed his eyes, shaking his head briefly as if to clear it. “I… I can… stay?” he said softly, the pain and uncertainty obvious in his voice.

“Yeah,” Techno said simply. “You’re safe here, Dream.”

There was a long moment of silence, Dream’s eyes flicking back and forth as he worked through what Techno said. Finally, he nodded. “I’ll… make it up,” Dream said, his hoarse voice barely audible over the wind. “To… to you.”

“Make it up to me by letting us help you get better,” Techno said. “Alright?”

Dream hesitated, then nodded. He unclenched his hand from the railing, and reached towards Techno. Techno caught Dream’s hand in his, squeezing it gently. Dream turned away from the arctic view, back towards the door. Techno helped lead him back inside

Chapter Text

Dream never talked about what happened in prison. He didn’t talk much period, but he especially never talked about what happened in prison. What little Techno knew about it came from Dream’s injuries, his skittish reactions to seemingly harmless things.

Techno knew that Dream had been tortured (obviously). His money for who had done was on Quackity, but he highly doubted Sam was innocent. Dream never talked about either of them, and didn’t respond to mentions of them beyond flinching, so Techno and Phil tried not to bring it up.

Techno also knew that Dream had been starved. He had been skeletally thin and weak when Techno had first gotten him out of prison, and though he was starting to put on weight, it wasn’t nearly as much as it should be. Though Techno knew he tried, Dream could barely eat anything that they gave him, almost never able to even start eating unless they told him it was okay. As a result, Dream was still despairingly underweight.

Techno knew that Dream had been convinced of a lot of things in prison. Since Dream never talked about it, he didn’t know the details, but he knew that Dream’s opinion of himself had plummeted. The most he’d ever actually said about it was that he didn’t deserve Techno’s help, but it was obvious it went a lot deeper than that. His silence, his fear of making literally any sound, his general skittishness, his inability to eat unless told it was alright — all of these combined to make Techno sure that Dream had been made to believe some messed-up things. But these beliefs were so firmly ground into Dream — cut so deeply into him along with sharp blades — it was difficult for Techno to convince him otherwise, especially when he didn’t know what he was working against. He felt he was making some headway, but barely.

Almost a month after breaking Dream out of prison, Techno stepped into Dream’s bedroom, glancing around for him. He didn’t see him at once, so he huffed slightly and crouched down to peer under the bed.

Dream lay curled up there, unseeing eyes half-closed, his fingers tapping slowly on the wood floor. Lately, he was more and more likely to be found there. For whatever reason, the cramped space seemed to make him feel more secure.

“Hey, nerd,” Techno said softly. Both he and Phil were always careful to keep their voices low, since Dream had such an adverse reaction to raised voices. “You okay?”

Dream didn’t respond for a long moment, as if it was taking a long time for the question to reach him. Used to this, Techno waited patiently. Finally, Dream nodded. He tapped his finger in a rhythm on the floor.

“I’d say that’s good, but at this point, I’m startn’ to doubt your reliability,” Techno said dryly. “How are you actually doing?”

Dream tapped his finger on the floor again. Two short taps. A longer one. Another short one.

Philza had originally come up with the idea of Dream using Morse Code to communicate, since it didn’t require him to talk, and it wasn’t physically draining for him. It had helped tremendously with them being able to understand what Dream wanted.

“Fine.”

“Dream…,” Techno sighed. “I’m not upset, I promise, I just want to help.”

“Can you… just talk?”

“Yeah, I can do that. Hmm, let’s see.” Techno considered. He had plenty of stories to tell, but he figured it would be better to stay away from actual events. He settled on one from Greek mythology, and began retelling it, keeping his voice low and calming, but still animated enough to make it interesting.

Dream remained silent while listening to him, his faded gray eyes half closed, one hand rubbing absently over the barely-healed scars on the other.

Reluctant to bring an end to this almost tranquil moment, Techno let one story lead into another, until nearly an hour passed. Dream hadn’t moved much, his eyes eventually drifting closed.

Outside, when sunset was drawing near, Techno’s dogs started barking.

Techno’s ears flicked up, and he pushed himself upright, narrowing his eyes. The dogs never barked at him and Phil, and only occasionally at the other members of the Syndicate. If anyone else was at his house, they probably weren’t a friend.

“Dream, stay here, alright?” Techno said in a low voice. “I’m gonna go check this out.“

Dream’s breaths had quickened, and his eyes were wide open again. He tapped his finger shakily on the floor.

“OK.”

“Be right back,” Techno promised. “Don't go anywhere.” He hurried out of the room, carefully closing the door behind him. He didn’t often close it, not wanting to make Dream feel like he was trapped, but right now, it felt better to err on the side of caution.

He took his axe from his inventory, let out a slow, bracing breath, and pushed open the front door.

Techno was met with the very unwelcome sight of Sam and Quackity standing a few paces away, both in full Netherite, serious expressions on their faces. Techno quickly skipped through a wide assortment of emotions — fury, fear, disgust, and more — before he settled his face on annoyed indifference. “You,” Techno said, “have a lot of nerve showing up here, Quackity, after what happened last time.”

“Relax, Technoblade,” Quackity said, smirking. “We’re not here for you.” He glanced up at the sky, at the position of the sun. “Word is that you know where Dream is.”

Techno raised his eyebrows. “Really? Who’s word is that? I thought he was still in prison.”

“He escaped,” Sam said flatly.

Techno snorted. “He escaped your ‘inescapable’ prison? Wow, L. Major L.” Chat echoed him in his head, cheerfully and loudly calling Sam and Quackity losers. Chat was also screaming for blood, which made it a tad difficult to concentrate on keeping his face inscrutable. 

Sam huffed. “He had to have outside help. The prison didn’t…. It doesn’t matter. Where is he?”

“Look, man, I have no idea,” Techno said, resting the blade of his axe against the wooden planks at his feet. “I haven’t seen that loser in a long time, not since Doomsday.” Techno had used invis when breaking Dream out of prison, had used every possible precaution to remain anonymous. It was better for his and Dream’s safety, better for the Syndicate’s security. There was no way that Sam knew he had been the one to break out Dream. Which meant the two of them were just here on a hunch.

“So you have no idea where Dream is?” Quackity pressed.

“If I ever find out, you’ll be the first to know.” Techno didn’t even bother to hide the sarcasm in his tone.

Quackity’s expression darkened. “Don’t play games with us, Technoblade,” he said. “There’s no way that Dream could have gotten far without help, and the whole Server knows you owe him a favor.”

Techno shrugged. “Not my fault he never called it in. And, hey —“ He cocked his head. “Why wouldn’t he be able to get far? Something happen to him?”

Quackity’s gaze flickered over to Sam. “It’s none of your concern, Technoblade,” he finally said. “You don’t mind if we take a look around the place, do you? For the security of the Server.”

“Actually, yeah, I do mind,” Techno said, frowning, and letting his anger darken his tone just a bit. “The last time you came here, you tried to execute me. I’ve answered your questions, I have no idea where Dream is, and I have now decided you have ten seconds to leave before I put this axe through your other eye. Got it?”

Quackity blinked, taking a reflexive step back. “Technoblade, you don’t want to make an enemy of Las Nevadas,” he growled. “Don't —“

“One,” Techno said flatly, shifting his grip on his axe. “Two.”

“Let’s go,” Sam muttered, grabbing Quackity’s arm. “We can’t fight him here.”

“You can’t fight me period,” Techno said. “Get off my lawn.”

“If you find out anything about Dream, contact me immediately,” Sam said, already backing away.

“We’re at what now, five? Six.”

Sam and Quackity both Pearled away, vanishing into the distance. Techno watched them go with narrowed eyes. Chat was still screaming in his head, some screaming for blood, others berating him for not handing over Dream. They were still very much divided about the man, which got irritating.

Techno was torn between relief that the two were gone, and wondering if he should have just killed them. But no. Revenge would have to wait. Dream was still far too fragile to risk Techno starting another fight. Especially when he’d be fighting essentially the entire Server. Now wasn’t the time to exact revenge.

It would be soon.

But for now… Techno had to get back to Dream.

***

Dream heard Techno leave the room, heard him close the door. He waited with almost painful anticipation, tense and shaking underneath the bed.

Then he heard voices, muffled and distant but still very audible, and his heart just about stopped because he knew those voices. Dread clawed its way up his throat.

No, no, no no no no —

“Word is that you know where Dream is,” Sir said, his voice faint but still clear as day.

Dream tensed further, curling up on himself. Sir was there, Sir was right there, he was going to drag Dream back to prison, he was going to kill him —

Dream could barely get air, his breaths short and gasping. His hands clutched at his chest, pressed over his hammering heart, as if Sir could hear it if he didn’t quiet it.

He couldn’t go back to prison, he couldn’t — but there was nothing he could do, because he could hear the Warden talking too and that made everything worse. He could hear the Warden’s voice in his head telling him to stop making so much noise, to stop acting up, and he would tell Dream to come back to prison and Dream would have to listen because he had stopped trying to resist the Warden a long time ago, and —

Dream pushed himself out from under the bed, accidentally slamming his head against it when he miscalculated the position. Out from under the bed, he fell back against the wall, clutching at his head, trying to resist the stab of pain that had gone through it. He felt disoriented, and he couldn’t tell where he was in the room. His eyes were wide, he knew they were, and he couldn’t see but he could feel he was pressed into the corner now and Sir was going to walk in at any moment. He would see Dream and tell him that they were going back to prison, and Dream could do nothing, nothing to resist.

He was in a daze, he couldn’t think properly, could do nothing to ground himself. He could still hear Sir’s voice and the Warden’s voice outside and they sounded upset and that made him want to shrivel up and die inside because them being upset meant pain, always. He should just go out now and get it over with, because maybe then they would lessen his punishment. Maybe they would even leave Techno out of it.

Dream couldn’t let Techno get hurt too. Couldn’t let the piglin hybrid be taken to prison to suffer along with him, because Techno didn’t deserve that.

Panting, but trying desperately to keep quiet, he braced his hands against the smooth wall, and pulled himself upright. He was shaking all over, he was choking back sobs, but he couldn’t resist the Warden or Sir anymore, couldn’t anger them more than he already had.

The door was pushed open with a soft creak, and Dream’s head whipped towards it. He heard the person say something, say his name, but with the blood roaring in his ears he couldn’t tell who it was, and immediately assumed the worst. 

Sir had come for him.

Dream crumpled back to the floor, on his knees, bowing his head because Sir never wanted him to look him in the eyes. It was part of why he had blinded him in the first place. Dream was shaking, he was choking on his own breaths, but he forced himself to say something. “I — I’m sorry, sir, I’m sorry, I’ll come back, I shouldn’t have left, I’m sorry, I missed you, I’ll be good —“ His words were shaky and half-slurred together and Sir hated that but it was the best Dream could do.

A hand met his, pressed against the floor in an attempt to steady himself, and Dream immediately froze. “I’m sorry,” he whimpered, resisting the urge to draw back, to pull away, because it never did any good and it would only make Sir angrier. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Dream,” he said, his tone soft. “Dream, calm down, it’s alright.”

“It’s alright, Dream, it’s alright, don’t cry —“ Dragging the blade of shears up and down his arm —

Dream choked and gasped and forced down a cough, shuddering. “Y—yes, sir,” he said, his voice shaking. “Thank you, sir.”

“Dream, I’m — I’m not him,” the voice said, still calming and soothing, but shaking slightly, the tone still promising pain in Dream’s twisted mind. “It’s Technoblade. It’s just me. Just Techno.” The hand intertwined in his, an achingly familiar motion that Sir had never used.

Dream tried to quiet himself, inhaling shakily. He had to know, he had to know what was happening, because he didn’t understand. “…Sir?” he whispered. “I — I don’t —?“

“It’s just Technoblade, Dream. They’re gone, they’re not coming back. You’re safe.”

“They want me to come back,” Dream managed through gasping breaths. “I — I have to go back, they want me to come back.”

“You don’t answer to them, Dream,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to listen to them, and you’re not going back to prison.”

“They — they’re going to be so upset,” Dream whimpered. The hand not intertwined with the other person’s — Techno? Sir? He didn’t know — was gripping his hair, painfully trying to keep him grounded. “They’re going to hurt me again and I know I deserve it and it’s better for everyone and I should be grateful but I don’t want it —“

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” the person said, and his voice finally had a sharper edge to it. Dream immediately slammed his mouth shut, eyes wide with fear. “You don’t deserve to be hurt, Dream. You don’t deserve that. And I’m never going to let them hurt you ever again, got it?”

“Yes, sir,” Dream whispered, because that’s what he was supposed to say, even though the words the other was saying made no sense.

“Dream, I’m not… I’m not… sir. He’s gone, I got rid of him. I’m Technoblade, remember?” The hand intertwined in his squeezed slightly, long talons pressing gently against his skin. “It’s just me. You’re alright. You’re safe.”

Dream didn’t respond for a long moment. It sounded like Techno. The hand felt like Techno. The things he was saying… Sir would never say those things. He always said Dream deserved it, deserved worse, that he should be thanking him.

“…Techno?” Dream whispered, his voice barely audible even to himself.

“Yeah. Yeah. It’s me,” Techno said softly. “Let’s… let’s get you off the floor, okay? You’re shaking.” The hand holding his moved up, and helped Dream upright, where he leaned heavily against the wall, still as far away from the other as he could without releasing his hand.

“They’re… they’re not….” Dream trailed off, biting his lip, and dropping into silence.

Techno seemed to understand what he was asking nonetheless. “They’re gone,” he promised. “They’re gone.”

Dream nodded uncertainly. Techno wouldn’t lie to him. Techno’s words sometimes didn’t make any sense, but he wouldn’t lie to him. Except his words kept contradicting what he had been told in prison, and for the weeks he had been here it had confused him. Now that confusion was stronger than ever. He didn’t know what to think anymore, what to believe.

“Dream?” Techno asked softly. “I know you want to ask me something. It’s alright to talk, remember?”

The weak permission granted, Dream managed to force words out. “I… don’t know,” he mumbled. “I — I don’t know anymore, Techno, I don’t —“ He felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned and all but fell into Techno, his fragile self-restraint crumbling, dissolving into sobs. “I don’t know what to do,” he gasped. “I — I can’t —“ His own choked breaths cut him off, and he broke off, sobbing, trying, as always, to make as little noise as possible, to remain quiet, because that’s what he was supposed to do.

Techno sank slowly onto what must have been the edge of the bed, leading Dream with him. He made soft, soothing noises, rubbing a hand comfortingly along his back. Dream just cried.

***

Dream eventually cried himself out, eventually sank into unconsciousness, leaving Techno holding him on the edge of the bed. The piglin hybrid shifted Dream so that he was actually lying down, and then sank back down at the foot of the bed, feeling utterly lost.

He had known Dream had been manipulated in prison. Known he had been conditioned to think and do and believe twisted things. But until then, until Dream had gasped apologies and words that horrified Techno, he had had no idea how deeply it all went.

Dream believed he had deserved to be tortured. Believed he would deserve it if it happened again. He had been all but ready to go back to them, to return to the prison if they so much as asked. Dream had been so strongly and horribly conditioned into obeying them that he would have done it in an instant, even after nearly a month of being away.

Dream was almost always silent. He never spoke about the prison unless it was mumbled words born of nightmares, and Techno has been unwilling to try and force him to talk when he obviously wasn’t ready. And so Techno had had no idea that this had happened. Was still happening. Because while Techno had been trying to help the best he could, his efforts obviously weren’t helping as much as he wanted them to.

“Mate?” Philza’s soft voice from the doorway brought him back to the present, blinking.

“Phil,” Techno said in relief, looking up. “Thank Prime.”

“I saw a lot of footprints outside when I came back from the village,” Phil said, keeping his voice low for Dream’s sake. “What… happened?”

Techno glanced over at Dream, still sleeping. “Not in here,” he said quietly, rising, and leading Phil out of the room.

Once they were a safe distance away, he told Phil everything that had happened, including his own worries about Dream.

“Prime,” Philza muttered, the horror evident in his voice. “That’s… Prime.”

“I know,” Techno sighed. “I know. Phil, I don’t… I don’t know what to do. How do we… help him? He doesn’t — I knew this was an issue, but I didn’t know it was… this bad.”

“It’s not your fault,” Philz said gently. “We’ll work it out. Now that we actually… know. We can help him better. It’ll be alright.”

“I was this close to murdering both of them,” Techno said, casting a dark glance at the front door. “Sam and Quackity. Chat wanted me to. I almost did.”

“You didn’t.”

“Not… yet. Would’ve brought trouble for Dream. Brought the whole Server here, which is the last thing he needs. I’ll get them back later,” Techno said. “And, I promise, it will not be pretty.”

“I’d help you,” Philza agreed. “But for now….”

“Help Dream,” Techno finished.

Why was it starting to feel like such an impossible task?

***

Dream woke up in degrees.

He wasn’t aware of anything at first except a quiet voice speaking, the feeling of soft blankets underneath him.

Slowly, as he blinked uncertainly, trying to figure out where he was, it came back to him. He was in Techno’s house, in his bed, he wasn’t hurting much and he was fine. The prison had been prominent in his dreams, and it was difficult to pull himself out of it. Dreams were the only place he could see now, and as a result they always felt so much more potent than real life.

His throat hurt.

“Techno?” he rasped, his voice barely audible. “Techno…?”

“I’m here.” Techno’s voice came from somewhere above him and to his right. “You… alright, Dream?”

Dream nodded, letting out a slow, shaky breath. He made an effort to sit upright, but his body felt shaky and not fully awake, so he gave up.

“Can I get you anything?”

He hesitated, then shook his head.

“Dream…,” Techno sighed. “You sure?”

Dream nodded. He felt tired and lost and his throat hurt and his hands hurt, but there was nothing Techno could do about that. 

Techno inhaled slowly, sounding like he was readying himself for something. Dream tensed slightly. He had said a lot of things before he must have fallen unconscious. Said things that Sir wanted to hear. But Techno wasn’t Sir, and he didn’t like it when Dream talked to him like he was, but even after a month Dream still didn’t know how to act with Techno. Techno always said he wanted to help Dream. But that’s what the Warden had said, too. It didn’t mean much to him now.

Sir and the Warden coming to Techno’s house had destroyed whatever fragile progress Dream had started to make away from the prison, and he had no idea where he was anymore.

They might be gone now, Techno might not let them take Dream back to prison, but he still had no idea what to do.

So Dream waited silently for what Techno was going to say, tense and uncertain.

“Dream… do you… trust me?” Techno finally asked. “Do you believe I’m telling you the truth?”

Dream nodded at the ceiling. He turned his head slightly towards the sound of Techno’s voice, still waiting.

“Do you believe me more, or the people in prison?” Techno persisted.

Dream blinked. He hadn’t expected that question. And… he didn’t know. Techno would never lie to him, would never hurt him. Logically, Dream knew that. Over the past month, he had come to accept that. But it was still hard to really believe it sometimes. 

Sir and the Warden… were always right. They had said Dream deserved everything they did to him. But… Techno said he didn’t.

Dream’s breaths started to speed up as he tried to figure it out, tried to determine what he was supposed to do, what he actually believed. He didn’t know, he didn’t know —

“You don’t have to answer that right now, Dream,” Techno said gently. “It’s alright. Just… you know I wouldn’t lie to you, right?”

Relieved to be asked a question he could actually answer, Dream nodded, pushing away his conflicted feelings on the other.

“Then… you didn’t deserve what happened in prison,” Techno said firmly. “They were wrong to do that to you. You didn't deserve that.”

“But….” Dream trailed off. He made another effort to push himself upright, and this time succeeded, turning more fully to face Techno. “They… they said….”

“They lied to you. They’re you’re enemies, so they would do that, right? I’m… I’m your friend. Do you believe me, Dream, or them?”

Dream’s eyes flicked back and forth. He rubbed his hand over one of the scars on his palm, trying to think. “I… I don’t….” He trailed off again, frustrated with himself. “I wasn’t… I wasn’t allowed to not believe them,” he finally mumbled. “I don’t….”

“You’re allowed to believe whatever you want, Dream,” Techno said. “But I promise I’m telling the truth. You didn’t deserve that.”

“But… I… did,” Dream whispered, hunching his shoulders, automatically drawing in on himself. “I — I hurt people, I shouldn’t —“

“I’ve hurt people too, Dream. Would I have deserved that?”

“Wh — no, of course not,” Dream said, startled, blinking rapidly. “You’re not… you’re not….”

“Then you didn’t deserve that either,” Techno said evenly. “No one would deserve what happened to you. What they did to you. They weren’t right, Dream. Whatever they told you — whatever they made you believe — was wrong.”

Dream pressed himself further back into the back cushions of his bed, squeezing his eyes shut. He had been told so many things in prison. They had to be true, right? Sir insisted they were, had punished Dream if he didn’t agree. What else was there?

There was Techno. And Philza. And whatever they had here in the arctic.

If what he was told in prison wasn’t true, he didn’t know what to believe anymore.

But, Prime, did he want to learn to believe something else. He had been overwhelmed and panicked with Sir’s arrival, but he had calmed enough now to bring himself back to the present. If Techno was right, if Dream hadn’t deserved it, then he had to move away from it. Techno wanted him to, and he owed Techno so, so much. He could do this for him, even if he didn’t fully understand why.

Even if he didn’t believe he deserved it.

“Then what… what….” Dream fumbled over himself, trying to find the right words. “What’s true anymore? How… how do I… know?”

“We can help you with that,” Techno assured him. “All you have to do is be at least a little willing to believe it, alright?”

Dream nodded.

And so Techno kept talking.

***

Recovery was never a straight line. Never an easy course. It never had been, not for Dream, and it wasn’t now.

But with Techno, with Philza, with his own determination to get better, he made progress.

It was slow and rocky and it has its ups and downs. It had Dream spending hours or days struggling to accept a single piece of information, to overcome a single lie that Quackity or Sam had ground into him.

It was difficult and painful, but Dream overcame it, one step at a time, came out better for it, and Techno had never been more proud of him.

He still might not be able to see. He still might struggle with habits forced onto him in prison. He still might have days where he retreated deep into his mind and hardly responded to either of them.

But, despite all that, Dream was getting better. He was trying, he was succeeding, and he was getting better.

It was weeks before he was able to carry on an almost normal conversation with Techno without trailing off or apologizing for speaking in the first place. Weeks longer before he was able to stammer out a single good thing about himself and actually believe it. Weeks before he was able to eat a full plate of food without feeling the need to ask permission, or stop halfway through. But every accomplishment was one worth celebrating, and all of them knew it. Even Dream, still barely believing that he was worth it, knew it.

It was months later when Techno gathered up weapons and potions and vanished towards the SMP, only to come back a few hours later with blood-stained weapons and the declaration that Sam and Quackity wouldn’t ever hurt him ever again. 

Dream had gone almost entirely non-verbal that day, remaining quiet and distant for the next several days as he tried to sort out his complicated emotions. Tried to figure out what he actually felt verses what Quackity and Sam had tried to force him to feel.

It had worried Techno at first, but finally, Dream admitted to him that he was relieved that they were gone. Techno went to bed happy that night.

And… he really thought Dream might have gone to bed happy as well.

The next day, he smiled a lot more, was willing to go along with Techno’s and Phil’s encouragements, and it gave Techno a crushing amount of relief to see Dream so… free.

From there, things only continued to get better. Dream was able to accept Techno’s words without struggling against memories of the prison, was able to actually believe good about himself. He was able to get around better with his blindness, even leaving the house with Techno or Phil on occasion.

Progress was rough.

But it was there.

And it was worth it.