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It had been less than a week since Dream was released to be on parole from the prison. Sam had been the one to make the decision. He’d said Dream was ready for the next step of reentering society.
Exile.
Of course it was exile.
Exile where he wasn’t allotted anything more than stone. The only iron he was allowed to have was for a bucket and shears. Nothing else. Sam came to visit him every day. His location was even kept secret from Quackity. Dream could handle it. He even enjoyed it.
There was sun. There was silence. There was no torture. No blood. He grew his own food. Wheat, berries, carrots, beets, anything but potatoes. He had a few cows and even a few pigs. Sheep and chickens were his next goal to get. He’d built himself a tiny cabin out of wood and bricks. And if it looked anything like a mini version of the original community house then Sam didn’t comment and Dream never admitted it out loud.
No one other than Sam had come and that was fine with Dream. He wasn’t sure he could handle seeing anyone else really. He knew he hadn’t escaped and therefore Sapnap shouldn’t kill him but the threat was still there and after everything that happened Dream was scared to die. He’d just gotten a kind of life back. He just felt the sun again. He wasn’t ready to lose it. And George. George never even came to visit him the entire time he was in prison. Dream didn’t want to know why. He didn’t want to admit that he was scared to see him again. Maybe his time with George had officially come and gone. Maybe he would never see him again. Maybe it was better that way.
He was just out tending to his garden when he heard footsteps coming towards him. He thought it was Sam coming for his daily visit. Dream felt a smile grow on his face as he picked up one of the lilies he’d managed to find. He knew they were one of Sam’s favorites. But when he turned it wasn’t his former warden that he found standing there watching him. It was Tommy.
The boy that he’d exiled. The boy that he’d hurt. The boy that was the reason for everything.
“Tommy?..”
But he didn’t speak. He didn’t do anything that Dream thought he should. He didn’t react with a jab about how pathetic Dream must have looked on his knees playing in the dirt. He didn’t laugh or mock him like he did in the prison. He didn’t even react with fear like Dream thought he might have given that he was out of the cell now. No. Instead Tommy equipped armor and a sword. Complete netherite that only served to remind Dream of the hell that he’d just escaped.
He couldn’t help but stare. This was wrong. It was all wrong. Tommy wasn’t supposed to know where he was. He wasn’t supposed to know where Tommy was. It was so they didn’t hurt each other. Sam had told him. A way to keep Tommy safe from him. And the warden had even admitted that it was also partially to keep Dream safe from Tommy. The boy wasn’t exactly happy that Dream had been let out.
Sam said he could have visitors soon. He said he’d start slow. That he’d only tell Sapnap and George to see if they would come. They hadn’t. And Dream was making his peace with that. But Tommy shouldn’t have come. Tommy shouldn’t know. Tommy shouldn’t be here.
He never got a chance to say his formed thoughts before Tommy was charging at him with the sword. Immediately he was back in the vault. Mind spinning in panic and flawed self preservation to try to get him to move but he couldn’t. Moving made punishments so much worse. Sir had taught him that. So instead Dream froze in place. He didn’t move. No reaction other than his eyes blowing wide and his breathing catching in his chest. He didn’t try to shield himself and he didn’t try to move himself from his place in the dirt.
The sword cut through his flesh like a heated knife through butter. No resistance. No hesitation. Just the will to cut and a body so abused it had no choice but to take it.
Dream felt like he’d blacked out after that. He thought he’d heard yelling but he couldn’t be sure. He just knew when he remembered how to breathe the sun was shining straight down on him and it made his eyes hurt. He was laying in the dirt. His body felt numb, cold, detached. He felt like he was floating. There was no sign of the decorative rocks he’d laid in his garden to prevent weeds. No sign of the trowel digging into his back where he laid amongst his flowers.
The air felt thin. The world sparking at the edges of his vision. His hands twitched but there was nothing to hold. Nothing to grab. Nothing to keep. He was alone. No one was there. Sam would show up for his visit and he’d find his corpse. But maybe that was okay. Maybe it was his time.
At least like this he would die surrounded by his world with the sun smiling down on him. His flower bed shifted around him in the wind. Bit by bit Dream turned his head to look at them. The tulips that had such soft petals he’d planted them and just rubbed his fingers over them to feel something gentle. The cornflowers that reminded him so painfully of George it made his heart break when he thought he’d never see him again. That their time was done. He knew it already. But some part of him held on to the hope that he was wrong. Even if he was he’d be dead before George ever thought about coming to see him. He saw the lilies and the small bud of the rose bush he’d recently planted next to the door to his cabin. Little decorated rocks that he’d painted in the colors of his past friends covered the ground between them. Right in the middle he saw it.
The budding head of a dandelion. It was crushed, its stem bent towards the ground. It was probably from Dream hitting it on his way down if he thought about where it was sitting. The yellow petals picked up some of his blood from how it was bent. With everything else swirling in his mind Dream started to cry.
He was the weed wasn’t he? He was the thing they locked away under rocks to prevent it from coming up. He was bent and broken and bloody. And no one would care. They would celebrate. They wouldn’t get the chance to be something else. They were already gone. Abandoned and killed before they were even given the option.
His breaths became more stressed as he cried. His body was trying to compensate for the blood he knew he was spilling into the dirt but he couldn’t get himself to calm down. He couldn’t get himself to move. The sky was so bright. It hurt. Everything hurt.
Not even his world was willing to weep in the face of his death.
He didn’t hear the footsteps entering the clearing this time. He didn’t hear the calls of his name or the running steps towards his body. He could barely get air into his lungs. His vision tunneling dark and sparking where he could still see the sun. He felt something touch his mouth but he clamped it closed. It hurt his struggling lungs even worse but couldn’t help it. He didn’t want a bug to crawl in his mouth. He didn’t want to take another living thing out with him. Not like he might have before the prison.
But he felt more things on his face. Things that felt like hands. When the thing touched his lips again he realized it was glass and he complied. He didn’t know who it was. But they were giving him a potion. If it was health then he would continue to see his sun. If it was harming then he would just die a little faster.
There was no downside when you were looking up from the depths of hell.
He drank it greedily. Feeling returning to his body and letting him know there were two sets of hands on him. Steadying him and supporting him as he drank. He wasn’t on the ground anymore. He was resting against someone. Against a chest that was rumbling with words he was struggling to make out. His head felt fuzzy. Like he was blurry and wrong. But slowly the darkness slipped away and he could begin to make things out again.
“Dream? Can you hear me? Look at me. You’re doing great, just keep breathing. In and out.”
He could make out the outline of George sitting next to him. Potion bottle in hand and worry lining his face. Dream couldn’t help but blink at him. This couldn’t be real. He wouldn’t have come. The chest behind his head shook with strained laughter almost as soon as the thought crossed his mind.
“We’re real. We’re here. You scared the shit out of us dude.”
Sapnap too? He didn’t think they would come. Why were they here? Did Tommy brag about killing him too early? Did they come to make sure he was dead? Did they-
“Dream?”
George’s hands were on his face. Dream didn’t understand. George hated him. Sapnap wanted him dead.
“You’re mumbling too much. We can’t understand you. But we’re here. Okay? We have you. It’s okay. We were on our way to see you. We found Tommy in the woods. Sam’s dealing with him. We came to check on you. Just breathe. You’re alright.”
He didn’t feel alright. But maybe he could figure that out again too. It didn’t make sense to him yet. But he could deal with that later. For now he just let the sun wash over him. He let himself breathe.
There were two rocks on the ground beside them. One blue with white and black circles. The other orange with a tiny panda. Both of them holding up a bent and bloody dandelion to let it heal and grow again.