Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Beneath all the neon lights, blaring music, and shining gold, Las Nevadas was surprisingly dark.

As much as he hadn’t liked the chaotic atmosphere of the actual casino above, Technoblade disliked its lower levels and basements even more. Cloaked with an invisibility potion, he slowly crept through the dimly lit hallways, keeping an eye out for anything quote-on-quote ‘suspicious,’ as Ranboo put it. Even having spent so much time near Las Nevadas, all the Enderman hybrid could tell the Syndicate was that there was something bad going on behind the scenes.

Well. It was a government. Techno couldn’t say he was surprised.

The piglin hybrid paused by a particularly heavy-looking door, frowning at it. There was a vaguely familiar scent surrounding it, but he couldn’t put a finger on what it was. Slowly, he reached out, and nudged the door open, quickly withdrawing his hand. Since no one shouted with alarm from the other side, he pushed it more fully open, and stepped inside, easing it almost closed behind him.

The room was dim, the only light from a single, low-burning torch on the wall by the door. It was also empty, the only objects piled on the floor in the center of the room. Techno crouched down to examine them, his frown deepening when he realized they were chains. Chains and blood. Too much blood. The smell of it was almost overwhelming in such a small space, and Chat immediately picked up on it.

blood? pogggg murder time. c!quackity my abhorred! blood for the blood god!!

Techno lifted one of the chain links on a single talon, sniffing it. The only identifiable scent was blood, and again that vaguely familiar feeling. He huffed with frustration, setting down the chain and straightening. Whatever was going on here, it definitely fell under the heading of ‘something bad.’ Dark basements with bloody chains stuck to the floor could really only ever be bad.

Techno’s ears pricked up as the sound of voices echoed down the hallway, and he quickly hurried back to the door. To his dismay, the loud and clearly not happy voice he easily picked up as belonging to Quackity seemed headed straight for the room he was in. Which meant Techno certainly couldn’t leave without the man noticing; he wasn’t exactly opposed to stabbing him again if it came down to it, but since the egg, they’d been on… halfway decent terms. Meaning Techno hadn’t tried to kill him since, and Quackity had returned the favor. Better to remain undetected than to have to answer the awkward question of why Techno was sneaking around the casino basement.

“—seriously, just — it’s frustrating! It’s frustrating, man, really!” There was Quackity, his voice the forced sort of cheerful he used when he was about ready to stab someone. “But, ha, Prime, you just can’t do one thing right, can you?”

There were two sets of footsteps, but whoever Quackity was with didn’t answer. The duck hybrid didn’t seem to expect one, though, and kept going.

“I really don’t know why we bother to keep you around, gonna have to start cutting your pay or something, geez.” Quackity snorted, like it was a private joke. The door to the small room was thrown open, light flooding in, and Techno edged even further back from it, right up against the wall. He should still have several minutes left of invisibility, but it still made him feel on edge. He wasn’t a fan of tight spaces, even less so when he was in them with an enemy. Well. A sort of enemy. But he definitely wouldn’t call the two of them friends.

Quackity strode into the room, closely followed by an unfamiliar man in an ill-fitting suit of Netherite armor. He was horribly underweight, even for a human, his whitish-blond hair seeming thin and frail as well. Techno immediately picked up the smell of blood on him, matching that already in the room. Same with that vaguely family scent.

Without a word, the man dropped down to his knees in the center of the room, and, with chilling casualness, Quackity secured the shackles around his wrists, chaining him to the floor. He huffed, lightly grabbing the man’s chin and tilting it towards him. “Don’t get the wrong idea, prisoner,” he said, the faint torchlight casting sinister shadows across his face. “We’re still going to talk about this later, we are, but I have too much to do tonight topside, so just stay here, yeah? Don’t go anywhere, man, don’t go anywhere, I still need you later. But hey! Just so you don’t get the wrong idea…” Abruptly, he drew his hand back and slapped the man hard across the face. His head snapped to the side, but he didn’t make a sound. Blood trickled down his cheek, dripping onto the Netherite armor.

“Don’t go anywhere,” Quackity repeated, all cheerfulness again. He straightened, brushing non-existent dust off his dress slacks, before striding out of the room, grabbing the torch off the wall as he went. The door slammed shut behind him, and the room was plunged into darkness. A lock clicked, and then the only sound was the haggard breathing of the man chained to the floor.

It was about then that Techno remembered he was supposed to have left by now. It was about the same second that he realized he did not, in fact, care what sort of terms he was on with Quackity, he was getting this guy out right now. Whoever the heck he was, he definitely did not deserve to be chained up in some government’s basement. That was just all kinds of abuse of authority.

It was, however, pitch black, and he was locked in.

Techno sighed, and dropped his Enderchest on the floor. The purplish light cast odd glows across the wall, and the chains clanked slightly as the prisoner jumped, flinching away.

“Woah, chill, man,” Technoblade said, still invisible, keeping his voice low.

The man just about fell over at that, scrambling as far away from Techno as the chains would allow. Even in the dim light of the Enderchest, it was clear to see he was shaking.

“Chill,” Techno repeated. “I’m, uh, breakin’ you out, if you’re not entirely opposed to that.”

The prisoner’s eyes were darting back and forth, struggling to make out who was speaking. 

“Oh, hang on,” Techno said. He grabbed a milk bottle from his Enderchest, and drank it, letting the effects of his invisibility potion dissipate. “Hallo,” he said, tossing back on his own Netherite armor. It wasn’t that this straggly, malnourished guy chained to the floor made him nervous — he would be almost laughably unimposing if it wasn’t so depressing — he just liked to have armor on when dealing with problems. Or when anyone else had any sort of armor on. Or if he felt at all nervous. Or — well, he just liked having Netherite on. “Name’s Technoblade, blood god, destroyer of L’Manburg, number one potato farmer, all that. You may or may not know me?” It was offered questioningly, a hint for the man to say something.

The prisoner, unhelpfully, said nothing. His grayish eyes were wide, focused on Techno, but he didn’t say anything. Scars crisscrossed his face, and wow, remembering how casually Quackity had hurt this man earlier, Techno wondered who had caused them. A real mystery, that one.

“Well. This is getting awkward,” Techno said, clapping his hands together, and deciding to ignore the way the man on the ground flinched. “I’m outta here. Who’re you again?”

No answer.

It was fine, it was fiiiine — Techno didn’t need the guy’s name to break him out. Shrugging, he withdrew his pickaxe from his inventory, and dropped down in front of the guy, ready to break the chains and get them both the heck out of there.

Closer to him, the smell of blood was much stronger, as was that weirdly familiar scent. Where did he know this guy from? 

Techno leaned closer to him, eyes narrowed as he inhaled deeply, trying to figure it out — since the guy in question was being so terribly unhelpful, and he didn’t want to break someone out who would kill him later. The scent reminded him of explosions, vaguely, of blood — behind that which was already there. Of cold arctic winds and laughter and —

“Wh — Dream?” he demanded, drawing back in astonishment. “You — what the heck, man! Heh? Heh?”

The prisoner — Dream, it was really him, thin and pale and scarred and maskless but still his old rival, his old ally, his almost friend — didn’t respond, instead pulling further away, the metal of the shackles digging into bony wrists.

“Dream,” Techno repeated, the astonishment ebbing away as horror took its place. Chat was screaming in his head, ecstatically — some furiously — shouting Dream’s name. “What… happened to you?” He was almost ashamed of the way his voice lowered, at the thought of what could possibly have happened to reduce the unbreakable, unshakable Dream to this.

“…’m sorry,” Dream mumbled, finally, finally speaking, and Prime, it was him. Voice quiet and hoarse but still unmistakably familiar, unmistakably his. “‘M sorry. Sorry.”

“It’s — never — nevermin’ that, man,” Techno said worriedly, glancing over at the door. “Hang on.” He hefted his pickaxe, and brought it down through the chains pulled taut. They weren’t Netherite, weren’t even enchanted, and they shattered easily — causing Dream to topple over and smack his head against the floor. Techno winced. Talk about poor reflexes. What was wrong with him?

“Come on,” Techno urged, grabbing Dream’s arm and all but dragging him to his feet. “We gotta go, Dream. Time for getting these off for reals later, but now —“ He pulled Dream towards the door, readying his pickaxe again.

“Wait, no, no, wait,” Dream gasped, tugging against Techno, pulling away from him. “Wait —“

“Heh?” Techno questioned, glancing over and frowning at him, already absolutely ready to break down the door.

Whatever Dream was going to say appeared to fizzle out and die right there. He shut his mouth with an audible click, dropping his gaze. He was still shaking, and there was still blood dripping down his face.

“Oh… kay. That’s fine, this is fine, you’re fine,” Techno said uncertainly. “We’re gonna, uh, get out now. Probably… probably best if we be stealthy about it,” he added, doubtfully looking Dream up and down. He was in Netherite, sure — albeit ill-fitting and not enchanted — but he also looked like the slightest breeze could blow him over.

Predictably, Dream didn’t respond.

Technoblade sighed. This… was really not how he’d been hoping this night would go.

At least he had a good excuse to kill Quackity as soon as he saw him.

***

Getting Dream out of Las Nevadas proved to be… challenging.

About halfway through just the basement levels, Techno had been forced to make Dream leave the Netherite, since it was clear that it was slowing him down in a way they couldn’t afford to be slow. He only had one more invis, and while he was tempted to give it to Dream, he was more worried he would immediately lose him, and opted not to. 

Without the armor, Dream looked worse than ever, even more scars and bruises covering his skin than Techno had seen before. Not all of it was scarred yet, either. A gash on his collarbone dripping blood. His hands scraped up and swollen. Even worse, with the armor gone, Techno could see the thin metal band encircling his bruised throat. If it was a necklace, it was a very hideous one, and if it was… something else… Techno didn’t want to try and take it off until he had something more precise than a pickaxe. He was forced to just keep moving, one hand wielding his axe, the other still holding firmly onto Dream. The man wasn’t… resisting, exactly, but he wasn’t going all that enthusiastically either. He also limped slightly the whole way.

Finally, finally Techno managed to get the two of them aboveground, emerging in the middle of a moonlit courtyard. Glancing around and seeing no one, Techno hurried across the paving stones, pulling Dream along with him.

“Come on,” he muttered, as the loosely marked boundary of the so-called ‘country’ drew closer. “Come on, Dream, just work with me, man, work with me.”

He was about to cross the border line of Las Nevadas when Dream yanked his arm back, the chains still dangling from his wrists clanking loudly in the near-quiet. He stumbled back, away from Techno.

“Dream,” Techno said pleadingly, “Dream, come on, man. I know you like to be stubborn and mysterious but now is not a good time for that, it’s really not, just — just come on.”

“It’s — I —“ Dream started, but his voice choked up, and he broke off. He raised a shaking hand to his neck, before dropping it. “Don’t. I can’t.”

“We gotta go,” Techno said. “We really, really gotta go. Rendezvous with Phil and Ranboo, and get the heck outta here.”

It was weird beyond belief seeing Dream’s actual face when he spoke, seeing actual emotions flickering across it. Weird giving a face to what had previously been an inscrutable mask. Had his eyes always been that… that dead looking? Flat and gray and just… empty. “Don't,” Dream said again, almost pleadingly. “I — sorry. I’m sorry. But I’m not —“ He broke off again, taking a shaky breath. There was something odd about the way his rib cage expanded to take a breath. Something not quite right. “I… don’t know. You.”

Techno blinked. “Yeah, it’s been a while, we have a lot of catching up to do, let’s please just go.”

“Don't,” Dream repeated. “Don't. Can’t.”

“Dude. I’m not leaving you here,” Techno said with an uncertain laugh. “I’m also not above knocking you out and taking you back with me that way, if it comes down to it.”

“I —“ Dream started, before a voice rang out behind him.

“Technoblade, what brings you to Las Nevadas?” And, great, there was Quackity, striding across the courtyard in a way that was meant to seem casual but looked strained, tense. He still wasn’t wearing armor.

“Oh, y’know,” Techno said, sidestepping back into Las Nevadas to subtly get in front of Dream. Technostealth. “Sightseeing. Lots to uh, see, here.” He gestured around the the dim and unremarkable area with complete seriousness.

“I’m sure,” Quackity said dryly. “I see you’ve met my… employee?”

“Who?” Techno asked innocently.

“He’s right behind you, Technoblade,” Quackity said sweetly. He was backlit with the light from the casino, and it left most of his face in shadow. Harder to read the expressions on it.

Techno looked around with fake astonishment. “Crazy, I just now noticed him. Mhm, mhm, seems like a nice guy, seems like a nice guy. Well, it was nice chattin’, but I better go,” he said, edging back and taking ahold of Dream’s wrist. His hand closed around the iron shackles still on it.

“He kind of needs to stay here, Technoblade,” Quackity said. He was still getting steadily closer. “Long hours. Long night. I’m sure you get it.”

“Sure, sure, but uh, I need his help,” Techno said, also continuing to move away. Dream moved with him in the same way he’d been doing all night — not against him, exactly, but not exactly helping. Just… there. “With… taxes. Yeah. He seems like a smart guy, I bet he could do it.”

“You don’t pay taxes,” Quackity said, a hint of irritability creeping into his tone. “Literally just  drop the freaking act, Blade. Drop it. He’s staying here.”

“How about… no,” Techno offered. He shifted back another step, then another. “Not that I don’t think you’d be great company, but I really don’t —“ He broke off as Dream gasped sharply, and then crumpled to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. “Woah, man, heh —“ Techno dropped down beside him, grabbing him roughly and trying to figure out what was wrong with him. There was a quiet humming in the air, and Quackity was shouting into a communicator.

“Dream,” Techno said urgently. “Dream!” He shook his shoulders in a way you really shouldn’t shake an injured person, trying to get his attention.

Dream’s breaths sounded choked, strained, like he was barely breathing at all. The band of metal encircling his neck was glowing faintly, and Prime, that was alarming. Techno pinched it between two fingers, then almost immediately whipped his hand away as a sharp shock jolted through him. He cursed under his breath, and pulled out his pickax, as Dream’s breaths turned from choked to practically nonexistent. Before he could get any further with removing the collar, however, an stabbing pain erupted in his shoulder, just between the gaps of his armor, and he jerked away with a hiss of pain.

Sam stood with a bow in his hand, a few steps behind Quackity, who was now wearing full Netherite. “Stand down, Technoblade,” Sam warned, in a flat, monotone voice.

“What’d you do to him?” Techno snarled, ignoring the arrow sticking out of his shoulder in favor of focusing on the threats before him. Every instinct in him screamed to get that Prime-cursed collar off Dream, but he couldn’t do that if he was dead. 

“You’re the one who took him past the redstone barrier,” Quackity said, spreading his hands. “I tried to warn you, man. Just bring him back and leave, and we can pretend none of this ever happened! Just walk away, Technoblade,” he added, his voice holding a hard edge of warning that Techno hadn’t heard since his failed execution. “Just walk away right now. Two against one, just leave.”

With absolute perfect timing, the dark, feathered form of Philza Minecraft dropped down directly in front of Techno, blocking him from view with wings spread ominously wide. “Not quite,” the avian said calmly. “Might want to rethink, mate.”

“We can and will stab you,” Ranboo added, appearing with a soft poof of violet particles.

Now having some sort of cover, Techno quickly hooked his pickaxe tip between the collar and Dream’s neck, offering a silent apology before swiftly yanking it away. The thin metal snapped with the force of the Netherite, and dropped to the ground, sparking faintly. The motion of the pickaxe caused a thin cut vertically down Dream’s neck, but he was breathing again — albeit very unconscious — and everything else would have to wait. 

“Wh — Ranboo?” Quackity spluttered, retreating several steps from the newcomers. “You can’t be —“

“We’re leaving,” Phil said firmly. “Now, if you value your lives, I suggest you don’t try and stop us.”

Techno gathered the unconscious Dream up in his arms, and staggered to his feet, the motion sending a stab of pain through his shoulder. “I’d say I’d hate to have another L’Manburg today,”  Techno said, “but I really wouldn’t, and I’d be totally fine with it. Phil?”

“Pleasure is all mine,” Phil said, taking the TnT out of his inventory. He deftly lit a piece, and tossed it to Ranboo. The Enderman hybrid teleported directly in front of Sam and Quackity, dropped it, and vanished again.

Not a split second later, the TnT exploded.

Leaving Sam and Quackity behind to deal with the explosion, the three members of the Syndicate — plus Dream — vanished into the night.

Chapter Text

“I’m slightly confused,” Ranboo offered, as they finally reached the arctic. It was nearly morning by then, the sun just barely lightening the sky over the horizon. “Kinda wanted to wait until we were actually here to ask, but uh, who’s this, again?”

“Dream,” Techno answered shortly, trying to keep the anger from his voice, and failing. He wasn’t mad at Ranboo, and didn’t want him to think he was. He tightened his grip on Dream’s limp body in his arms.

Ranboo blinked wide, multicolored eyes. “Oh. Okay. He’s, uh, not looking great.”

“He looks like he’s on Death’s freaking doorstep,” Phil said, staring down at Dream from the porch. He pushed open the door, hurrying inside. “Was that —?”

“Probably Quackity, if I had to bet on it,” Techno said darkly, swiftly mounting the steps and into the bright warmth of their joint house. “No idea what he was doing there with Sam, though.”

“Isn’t Dream… supposed to be locked up? In Pandora?” Ranboo asked, following them inside, and shutting the door.

“I found ‘im in Quackity’s basement,” Techno said, settling Dream on the living room couch. “Literally like — like locked up in the casino basement. Clearly wasn’t gonna leave ‘im there.”

“Clearly,” Ranboo echoed. “No, it was a good choice, that was good, he looks… he looks not great.” He stared down at Dream. “You sure it’s him? He’s not… what I imagined. At all.”

“It’s him,” Techno confirmed. Finally free of carrying Dream, he pulled out a health potion, and downed it. Combined with the one he’d taken after getting away from Las Nevadas, it sealed over the injury in his shoulder fairly well. Only a faint ache remained, along with the blood staining his white shirt.

“And… you’re going to keep him here?” Ranboo asked weakly. “Like. In your house?”

“Ranboo. Ranboo. I know you’re not best friends with him,” Techno said seriously, turning to face him. Ranboo was fidgeting with his sleeve cuffs. “But I owe the guy, and he’s staying here until I’m sure he won’t drop dead or get murdered. I’m totally chill if you go hang in your house until he’d gone, just… don’t tell anyone. Please. Since, again, the whole ‘get murdered’ thing.”

“Sure,” Ranboo said, his shoulders dropping with relief. “Sure. Yeah. I can do that. Thanks. I… I’ll be around. If you… need help, I’ll be around. He…” He glanced down at Dream again. “He looks… really bad. Um. I can’t… this is freaking me out. You'll be fine?”

“We’ve got this, mate,” Phil said, emerging from the kitchen with his arms full of potions, bandages, and other medical supplies. “You go, we’ve got this.”

Ranboo nodded, and hurried out, the door clicking shut behind him. Techno saw him hurrying across the snow-covered lawn a few seconds later. Satisfied that his protégé / main-character-to-be would be fine, Techno was finally, finally able to turn his full attention to the still-unconscious Dream. He dropped down onto the carpet beside Phil, whose brow was furrowed as he looked Dream over.

“You said he was locked in the casino basement?” he asked, his fingers hovering over the cuts and bruises on his arms, tracing over the shackles still on his wrists.

“Very literally chained up, it wasn’ good,” Techno said in a low voice. “Phil, he just —“ he let out a breath, “he walked in with Quackity and just… just let him. Quackity chained him to the floor and Dream didn’t do anything about it, he just….” Techno trailed off. “He wasn’t acting right.”

“I can imagine,” Philza murmured. He lightly touched Dream’s face, tilting his head slightly. “He doesn’t look great, I’ll be honest. He’ll be fine,” he added quickly. “We've got potions, and it’s… it could be worse.”

“Sure,” Techno said. “Yeah. He’ll be fiiiine, it’s fiiiine.” He and Philza exchanged looks, before they got to work.

Dream didn’t wake up the whole time they were treating him. Not when Techno poured regen over the cut on his neck, and wrapped it with bandages. Not when Phil used a set of fine metal tools to remove the shackles from his skinny, purple and blue wrists. His breaths were stuttered and uneven, and his eyelids fluttered on occasion, but he stayed unconscious.

The majority of Dream’s injuries were already scarred over, but it was easy to see that they hadn’t all happened recently. This had been happening for months and months.

Phil’s main concern was the obvious starvation. Techno’s was the haunted look in Dream’s eyes in that dark casino basement.

Neither could be dealt with until Dream woke up.

It took far longer than either of them wanted it to.

***

The first thing that he registered when he awoke was that surface underneath him was soft.

This alone caused a spike of alarm for the prisoner, and he dug his fingers into the softness. Had he passed out on a carpet somewhere? He shouldn’t be there. Unless he was, and he’d just forgotten?

He didn’t want to open his eyes, wanted to curl up in a ball and stay there forever. Everything hurt and he felt nauseous. But that wasn’t exactly new, and he had things to do.

Except… neither Sir or the Warden had woken him up, so was he not needed?

Maybe he’d actually fainted somewhere, and they just didn’t know where he was. Dread and shame grew in his chest at the thought. He shouldn’t be here.

The prisoner forced his bleary eyes open, trying to get to his feet and immediately falling hard to the floor. His head was spinning, and he was on his knees, bracing his hands against whatever soft surface he’d fallen from. Everything around him was soft whites and browns and flickering candlelight, and he didn’t recognize it. Where was he?

“—woah, Dream, calm down, calm down.”

At the sound of the unfamiliar voice right behind him, the prisoner jolted to his feet, ignoring the pain that throbbed everywhere, and whirled to face the speaker. He was some kind of hybrid — piglin? — wearing a dressy white shirt and lots of gold jewelry. Unfamiliar. Ah. Wait. No. He’d been there earlier — right? Right? The piglin been trying to take him somewhere. Unless he’d imagined the whole thing. That… that was probably it. That’s what Sir would say. Because the piglin had taken him out of Las Nevadas, and he wasn’t allowed to do that.

You know your memory’s trash, man! Lucky for you we’re here to help you out.

The piglin chuckled uncomfortably, something like worry making his brow furrow. “You… you should really sit down, man, you’re not looking so great, I’ll be honest.”

The prisoner sat down, staring up at the piglin. He didn’t know where Sir was, didn’t know where the Warden was, and had absolutely no idea where he was. But this piglin was apparently in charge for the time being, so until told otherwise by his actual owners, he would listen to him. Hopefully, he would fill in enough of the blanks in the prisoner’s mind so he could figure out what he was supposed to do. Since Sir wasn’t here to do it for him.

“That’s — heh, that’s good, that’s good,” the piglin said uncomfortably, tapping his taloned fingers against the side of his leg. “You… want something to eat?”

…He did remember that one. Blurry memories of lava and obsidian and questions about books he couldn’t answer. Do you really think you deserve food today?

Slowly, he shook his head, trying to gauge the reaction to it. The piglin looked crestfallen, and so the prisoner changed it to nodding as quickly as he could.

“I’ll get you somethin,’” the piglin said, sounding relieved. “Hang tight.” He hurried out of the room, and the prisoner curled his hands in his lap, feeling a small bubble of relief at having gotten the answer right. 

He took the time he was alone to glance around the room, trying to figure out if he’d been there before. It seemed… vaguely familiar. But at the same time like he’d never seen it before in his life. Like most things, actually. It made him feel distantly frustrated, and he gave up trying to identify the room — it wasn’t worth the effort. 

He stared down at his hands instead, inhaling sharply when he saw the bandages wrapped over his fingers. The scrapes there had been from work in the casino, and they weren’t life-threatening, only sent stabs of pain shooting up his arms whenever he moved his hands. Why did they need to be bandaged? Maybe they needed him to be more delicate with something. He tried! He really did. He just couldn’t get the shaking to stop, despite Sir’s multiple attempts to teach him otherwise. Maybe that’s why they were healing his hands; so they could try something else. 

There were footsteps back across the floor, and the prisoner looked up. The piglin hybrid was back, holding a bowl of something warm. Steam rose up from it in thin tendrils.

“Here,” the piglin offered, setting it on a low side table, along with a spoon. “Eat up, it’s…” He blinked down at it. “I dunno what it is, actually, but Phil made it, so it’s probably not terrible.”

“Hey!” someone barked from the room the piglin had just come from, and the prisoner jumped, his mind a jumble of loud-angry-punishment-pain. “My soup is freaking delicious, shut it.”

“Oh, it’s fantastic, it’s fantastic,” the piglin said, laughing. “I dunno if you’ve ever had Phil’s cookin,’ Dream, but it’s actually not bad, really.” He gestured at the bowl. “Plus, you’re kinda… starved, so, uh, yeah, you should eat it.”

Permission to eat. The prisoner slowly picked up the bowl, silently wishing his hands would stop shaking. He let out a slow breath, risking a glance up at the piglin. He didn’t seem upset that he was about to eat it, so he probably wasn’t going to stop him? He’d given him permission to do it, right?

He raised the bowl to his lips and took a small sip of it. The hot, flavorful liquid made him feel even more nauseous than before, and not even a second later he felt like he was going to throw up. He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing down the feeling before taking another sip. And another. And another. There really was a lot of soup in the shallow bowl - was he allowed to drink all of it? Surely he couldn’t have forgotten doing something big enough to earn this.

The Warden hadn’t given him something this filling in ages, but it didn’t make any sense. The Warden wasn’t even there, and — he wasn’t — he wasn’t —

Abruptly, panic flooded through the prisoner, and the ceramic bowl slipped through his fingers and clattered to the floor. The prisoner staggered to his feet, backing away, eyes darting left and right. He glanced through a window and saw snow, and Prime that was bad, because there wasn’t snow in Las Nevadas, or near the prison, so where was he?

“Woah, woah, Dream,” the piglin said, starting forward, and raising his palms. “It’s alright, you’re alright, we got you out. No one here is going to —“

“Where — am I?” the prisoner demanded shakily. His back was against a wall, his fingers digging into the wood, and his heart was beating wildly. “Where is — where is —“

“Quackity’s not here,” the piglin said hurriedly, and the prisoner inhaled sharply. “We got you away from him ‘n Sam, you’re safe here. It’s mine and Philza’s place, and it’s, uh, been a while since you’ve been here, I know.”

Sir wasn’t here. The Warden wasn’t here. He wasn’t at the casino. But this piglin called them by name, so he must know them? Must be equals with them. Which meant he should listen to him, regardless of the panic that was making it near impossible to breath.

“Techno, you’re scaring him, mate.” A figure was behind the piglin — Techno? — hovering uncertainly. “Dream, you’re alright,” he said kindly. “You’re safe here, I promise. We’re not going to let anyone hurt you, alright?”

“Alright,” the prisoner choked out, because that’s what he was supposed to say. “I — I understand.” His not-quite-healed ribs were aching, but he forced himself to take a few deep breaths regardless, trying to get the room to stop spinning.

“Dream,” the piglin, Techno, said worriedly, shifting forward a step, and why did he keep calling him that? He hadn’t ever been called that before. Sir called him all sorts of things, but never Dream. Was that the title he was supposed to answer to here? “You’re shakin’, man. You’re alright, I promise.”

You’re fine, the prisoner told himself, pressing himself even further into the wall. You’re fine, you’re fine, you’refineyou’refine’you’refine —

“Dream,” Techno said again, and Prime, the prisoner needed to get it into his head that Dream was his title here, because the blurry confusion was making him slow and useless, and he couldn’t be useless.

You’re Dream, he told himself. You’re Dream, and you obey Sir and the Warden and they’re not here so you obey Techno, and you’ll be good. It helped, some, and he — and Dream forced himself to calm down, struggling to make his hazy mind cooperate.

“You should… lie down, man,” Techno said weakly. “I’ll… clean up the soup, don’ worry about it, you can stay in the guest room for righ’ now, if that’s cool with you.”

Oh. Right. The soup. He’d spilled it. Probably ruined the carpet, too. Dream didn’t move, waiting for Techno to yell at him, waiting to see what punishment he would decide for him. He only hoped he’d be able to walk afterwards — it always made it so much harder to make Sir and the Warden happy when he could barely stand up. His own fault, of course.

Techno seemed to be waiting for something too, but eventually gave up and reached out a hand towards him.

Resigned to having his fingers broken again, Dream pulled his shaking hand away from the wall and set it into Techno’s.

The piglin pulled him away from the wall, and led him over to a door, past the avian. Phil? His wings were immense, black and glossy and beautiful, and so much bigger than Sir’s golden ones. He dropped his gaze. He wasn’t supposed to stare. Where was Techno taking him? 

The room he took him into was smaller than the first, and dimmer, too, which caused simultaneous fear and relief for Dream. At least it was somewhat familiar, even if the prospect of being chained to the floor in his room right now kind of made him want to cry. Which was stupid, because he was lucky to have the room at all, as Sir constantly reminded him.

Techno nudged him onto a bed near the wall, pulling his hand away as well, and Dream sat down, utterly confused. What was this piglin doing?

“Try to, uh, rest,” Techno said. “I’ll get you some water, alright? And somethin’ else to eat. Just….” He locked eyes with Dream. “You gotta know. You’re safe. I got you out, and you’re safe. You don’t answer to him, got it?”

Dream did not ‘get it.’ But he nodded anyway. Techno looked at least somewhat relieved at that, which in turn made Dream relieved. Maybe his punishment wouldn’t be as bad now, if he’d pleased Techno. But still….

“I’ll be back soon,” Techno promised, turning towards the down. “Lie down, alright?”

“Wait —“ the prisoner started, then broke off, as Techno looked back towards him. He didn’t want to ask, but the anticipation was awful and he wanted to get it over with. “I… spilled it,” he said.

Techno blinked slowly. “I mean. We’ve got more. It’s chill, man.”

“But… you’re not…?”

“Kinda hated that rug anyway, so… no? Eh. It’ll come out, don’t you worry, homeless man,” Techno said, waving a hand, and Dream flinched. Techno immediately dropped his hand, looking guilty. “Sorry. I’ll be… I’ll be right back.” He hastened from the room, leaving Dream alone on the bed.

The prisoner stared at the doorway where Techno had vanished. Nothing was making sense. He wasn’t with Sir, and Techno said he didn’t even answer to him, which of course was absurd. What else was he supposed to do if not obey Sir? That was literally the only reason he was alive.

Dream allowed himself a brief moment of weakness, rubbing his hands over his eyes, trying to clear his vision. He was fine. He was fine, he was fine. He just had to obey instructions, and everything would be fine. He really needed to stop asking questions — Techno was in charge of him while Sir was away, while he was here, and Techno would tell him everything he needed to know. Speculating was pointless.

He was fine.

Chapter Text

Over the next three days, worrying little happened.

Dream barely spoke, barely ate, and barely left his room. Any time either Techno or Phil directly asked him to, he would, but it felt too much like ordering him around, so they tried to avoid it.

Techno was adamant that something was wrong with Dream, and Philza agreed. Dream just didn’t seem particularly interested in saying anything about it. They didn't want to push him, knowing how guarded the man was, had always been, but they knew that something had to have happened to reduce Dream to the state he was in. This scarred and starved and near-silent version of himself. Though he hadn’t broken down as much as he had that first day, he was still trembling whenever they saw him, and still seemed unnervingly cooperative. By the third day, Phil decided that they needed some answers.

“I’m going to ask him about it,” Philza told Techno in a low voice, setting a bowl back into the shelf. “Whatever the heck happened to him.”

“He won’t like that,” Techno warned. “Dream has a thing about personal questions.”

“I know,” Phil sighed. “But we’re not getting anywhere. He’s physically getting better, yeah, but he still acts just about the same as day one. You said yourself how he was in Las Nevadas spooked you.”

“…That’s fair,” Techno relented. “That’s fair. Whether he was… was tortured, or conditioned, or something, he… we can’t help him if we don’t know. Give him a fatherly Philza talkin’ to. I’m sure there’s absolutely no way that could go horribly wrong.”

Phil chuckled dryly. “I’ll be nice about it, don’t worry.” He crossed the house to Dream’s room — technically the guest bedroom, technically once Tommy’s — and knocked softly on it. There was no answer, and after a moment, Philza nudged the already ajar door more open, and poked his head in. Predictably, Dream was hunched over on the bed, his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped loosely around them. He’d started out on the floor, but gentle nudging from Techno moved him up onto the bed, where he almost always stayed now. “Alright if I come in, mate?” Philza asked softly.

Dream pushed himself more upright, dropping his hands into his lap.

Deciding to take the non-refusal as acceptance, Philza stepped into the room, settling down at the foot of the bed.

“So, Dream,” Philza said conversationally. “How’ve you been? Everything… alright?” The question was asked lightly, but Philza watched carefully for his answer, which came in the form of a slight nod. That wasn’t… ideal. He needed to get Dream talking.

“Prime, it’s really been ages since we’ve really talked, yeah? Not since Doomsday, really. What’ve you been up to since then?”

Dream slowly turned to look fully at him, not quite making eye contact in a way reminiscent to how Ranboo talked with him. “I’ve been… busy,” he said. His voice was quiet, hoarse, but at least he said something.

“With…?” Philza prompted.

“With… work. Las Nevadas. I… I don’t know, what do you…?” Dream trailed off, his shoulders hunching uncomfortably, before he straightened again. His hands, Phil noticed, were still shaking. Covered in crisscrossing scars and burns and white bandages. “What do you want to know?”

“Eh, just wondering, really,” Phil said, waving a hand. “You seem… different, s’all.”

“Oh,” Dream said. He dropped his gaze. “I’m sorry.”

“Don't need to apologize, mate, people change,” Phil said lightly. “It’s just….” He sighed, shifting the position of his wings. “Mate, you’re not acting like yourself and — I’ll be honest, it’s worrying. You… you remember back when you came to visit, right before Doomsday?”

It was a rhetorical question — of course Dream remembered the precursor to such a cataclysmic event — but much to his confusion, Dream slowly shook his head.

“You — what?” Philza asked blankly. “Sorry, but — you do remember Doomsday, don’t you?”

Again, Dream shook his head.

“Mate, you’re freaking me out here,” Phil said, laughing nervously. “This is… that’s not really something you forget. It’s not like you.”

“I’m — sorry,” Dream said. “I — I don’t — I’m sorry. I don’t… know. I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

“But… L’Manburg? We literally blew up L’Manburg, how can you not…?” Phil trailed off. “Dream,” he said slowly, “do you remember L’Manburg? At all?”

“It’s… a place,” Dream said hesitantly. “That we blew up. On Doomsday.”

“You really don’t remember,” Phil said, drawing back slightly. He ran his hand distractedly through his hair. “Alright. Alright.” He tapped his fingers against the bedspread, trying to figure out what to do next, what to say. “Dream,” he said after a pause. “Do you… you do remember me, yeah?”

“…Yes?” Dream said, the word sounding very much like a question, his shoulders tensing again. “You've… this is your house. Right? So… yes.”

“Mate,” Philza said, letting his voice get just a bit of an edge for the first time that whole conversation. “Be honest with me. Do you know who I am? Beyond just — just now. Beyond just these past few days. Do you remember me?”

Dream tensed further, his hands clenching in his lap. “I — don’t,” he said. “I don’t. I’m sorry. I — I don’t know you. I don’t know who you are, or why I’m here, or why I’m not — why did you take me out of Las Nevadas? Does — do they know I’m gone? Am I supposed to go back?” Once he finally started talking, the words spilled out of him, growing more and more anxious as he went on. “I shouldn’t — I’m sorry, I’m — being bad. I —“

“Dream,” Philza interrupted, a growing sense of dread creeping over him, and Dream immediately stopped talking. “Dream, do you… do you remember Techno?”

“He’s… mostly in charge here,” Dream mumbled. “And he’s… Techno’s your friend? He… did he take me out? Maybe? Unless I… imagined it. I imagined it. I don’t… I don’t know. No. I don’t know him. I’m sorry.”

“That’s… that’s not good, mate,” Phil said shakily. “How do you… you don’t remember us? At all?”

“I forget a lot of things,” Dream said. “But I don’t — it — it doesn’t matter. The Warden and Sir tell me everything I need to remember to be able to do what they want me to, so it doesn’t — matter, b-because I forget that I’m forgetting, too, so it’s okay.” He scanned Philza’s face, his face falling at seeing Philza’s look of absolute horror, and he immediately started talking again, his words desperate. “I’m sorry, I really am. I — I can try to remember. I will. I’m sorry I’m… useless. I’m not supposed to be, I’m alive so I can be useful, for Sir and the Warden, and for you and Techno, because I’m here now, so I’m yours until I go back, but I — I don’t remember you yet. I will. I’ll be good, just — just don’t hurt me, please. Unless — unless you want to, it doesn’t matter, I’ll be good —“

“Wh — Dream!” Philza said, aghast. “Mate, I’m not — I’m not going to hurt you, you’re… you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I made you upset,” Dream mumbled, all the desperate energy from before draining out of him. “I won’t fight you, though. I’ll be better.” He was staring down at his hands, the trembling in them having worsened significantly since the start of the conversation. “I’m sorry.”

“Dream, it’s… it’s alright,” Philza said weakly. He pushed himself to his feet, and Dream shrunk back. The sight caused a heavy pang in his chest, against the horror that was already there. “I’m… I’ll be back soon, mate. Just… just give me a moment, please, I need to…. I’ll be back soon.” He hastened from the room, closing the door behind him. His own hands were shaking almost as badly as Dream’s now.

***

The prisoner was left alone, and he was absolutely terrified.

He made Phil upset. He made his owner — albeit a temporary one — upset. Upset enough that he had to leave. He couldn’t do that. He wasn’t supposed to do that. He couldn’t do that.

Phil was upset with him, he was going to hurt him, and the prisoner knew he deserved it but he was barely even hurting for the first time that he could remember, and he didn’t want to hurt again — but he deserved it, he deserved it because he had to obey his owners above all else and Phil was one of his owners while he was here, and —

He couldn’t breathe. He was choking on air and his hands were digging into the too-soft blankets and he was staring straight ahead without seeing anything. He could hear Sir telling him all the ways he had messed up that day, could feel his blade sliding across his skin —

He needed to stop. He needed to stop because Phil would be coming back to punish him and Sir hated it when he was spacing out like this, he wanted him present and ludic and there, and he needed to stop.

The prisoner tried to take a deep breath, but it got choked off, and it sounded like a sob. He couldn’t do this. He needed to do this. He tried again, and again, and again, and it was only making it harder, and he could feel hands all over him and closing around his throat and he needed to stop — this wasn’t working, this wasn’t working —

The prisoner blindly shoved himself off the bed and fell hard to the floor, the pain helping jolt him out of his panic some. He dug his fingernails into his arms, trying to further ground himself. He needed to stop, he needed to breathe, he needed to be ready when Phil came back, because he couldn’t upset him any more than he already had —

And he was breathing now, at least a bit, he was breathing, his breaths were evening out even though his heart was still racing, his skin crawling with phantom pain.

He was fine, he was fine, he was fine, he just needed to get it together, to stop acting out, stop being weak, because he needed to be there for his owners, because that was why he was here, that was the only reason he was still alive, and he was going to do it.

He had to.

He had to.

Chapter Text

“This is fantastic,” Techno said blankly. “This is actually so fantastic, for so many reasons. I love every part of this, I am completely fine with all of it. Yep. So great.”

“He doesn’t seem to remember anything,” Philza said from the couch, his voice muffled. His face was buried in his hands, his wings draped over the back of the couch. “He — Prime, Techno, he thinks we own him.”

Snow was falling outside, slowly building on the windowsill.

“Like I said: Absolutely fine with all of this,” Techno said, his voice tight with suppressed emotion. He briefly closed his eyes, trying to push back the cacophony of voices in his head enough to think clearly. “Is he…?”

“He’s still in there,” Phil muttered, still muffled. “I — I know I shouldn’t’ve left. But I — he — he’s not right, Techno. This isn’t Dream, I don’t —“ He broke off, a heavy sigh making his shoulders and wings drop. He looked up at Techno, distress etched all over his face. “I-I’ve seen things like this. With hybrids. On other Servers, a long freaking time ago. But never… never this bad. Not to the point where they don’t remember anything else, where they actually, genuinely believe —“ He stopped again, dragging a hand down his face. “This is a mess.”

“Yeah,” Techno grunted. “That’s one way to put it.” The thought nudged in by one of his many voices, he said shortly, “I’m not taking him back, Phil. He’s staying here, I owe him that much. And even if I didn’t, even if we didn’t know each other at all, this is the most absolutely atrocious abuse of authority I’ve ever seen, and I’m not going to just —“

“Mate, I never said we take him back,” Philza said, aghast, starting back. “Of course we can’t — he’s clearly not capable of taking care of himself right now, that much is obvious, he… he needs help. And… who else?” He spread his hands slightly.

“We’re going to help him,” Techno affirmed, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Or — I am, at least.” Phil made a humming noise of agreement. “He — I’m not leaving him like this, Phil. He’s my… friend seems a bit of a stretch, I know, but he’s my ally, rival, whatever — he doesn’ deserve this. I — End, wait.” He turned towards the hallway and door that led to the guest room, to Dream. His ear twitched. “Probably shouldn’ leave ‘em alone right now. I’m gonna… I’ll be in here.” He turned off down the hall, briefly closing his eyes before knocking on the door. “Eh… Dream? Are you… is it good if I come in? I mean, it’s technically my house, you’re still homeless, but still.”

There was no answer. Techno pushed the door open, halting in the doorway when he realized the bed was empty. “Heh?” He took a step inside, inhaling through his nose to try and — there he was. Still in the room, just on the other side of the bed, on… the floor, which Techno really thought he’d gotten him to stop doing. “Dream?” He crossed the room, pausing when he finally caught sight of Dream. He was hunched on the floor next to the bed, his face wet with tears, hands pressed over his mouth, muffling his quick, ragged breaths. He immediately looked up at Techno, and he dropped his hands, his breathing sounding even more tight and strained than before. “S-sir,” he greeted, his voice hoarse and shaking.

“You… you don’t need to call me that,” Techno said. “I am an anarchist, y’know; titles aren't really a thing I support. Techno’s fine.”

“Techno,” Dream repeated, his face falling even further. “I’m sorry.”

“For what? You didn’t… do anything wrong,” Techno said, staring down at his rival, and trying to figure out how this was the same person he’d destroyed countries with. How this person didn’t even remember him.

“I m-made Phil upset,” Dream said. “He left, and I… wasn’t ready for him. Or you. I… I’m sorry.”

“You’ve got nothin’ to be sorry about,” Techno said firmly. “Alrigh,’ Dream, I need you to be honest with me here. Actually, wait, hang on.” He bent down, and guided Dream up with his hands on his arms, nudging him into the bed. Dream didn’t resist, his breaths still shuddering in his chest. 

Techno sat down at the foot of the bed, which put him at the same level as Dream, and made him feel a bit better. “Alrigh,’” Techno began again. “Dream. Be honest here. Do you know who I am? Not gonna be upset if not.” That was a lie. He would be upset. Very. But certainly not with Dream.

“I don’t remember you, s— Techno,” Dream said, correcting himself mid word. “I’m —“

“Don't need to be sorry,” Techno said again. Dream dropped his gaze to the floor. “That’s fine, Dream. That’s fine.” It definitely, absolutely was not fine. 

“I’m sorry,” Dream mumbled to the floor.

Techno briefly closed his eyes, letting out a slow breath, trying to get his emotions under control. “Alrigh.’ Dream, if you’re up for it… I need you to tell me what you do remember. Can you do that?”

Dream finally looked back up at him, nodding firmly. There were tear tracks on his face, and a barely-healed cut under one eye standing out sharply against his flushed skin. “I — I was in prison,” he said. “I was… I wasn’t useful there. The Warden let Sir take me out, to Las Nevadas, so I belong to him. Or you. You?” He looked at Techno questioningly.

“You’re your own person, Dream,” Techno said gruffly. “You don’t belong to anyone.”

“…that’s not right,” Dream said, half hesitant, half decisive. “I’m — sorry, but I — I’m not a person.”

“You're definitely a person,” Techno said firmly, ignoring the stab of anger and disgust that went through him at Dream’s words. Then, unsure if he actually wanted to know the answer, he asked, “What makes you think you’re not?”

Dream just looked at him. It was clear that, to him, the answer was obvious. Techno, however, was still in the dark. Though he had a strong suspicion the route of the problem would lie with Quackity and Sam.

Catching notice of the way Dream was still gripping his arms, digging his fingers into them, Techno reached out and tugged them away. Dream released his grip immediately, and Techno saw the red marks on his arms.

“Hey, let’s… let’s not do that, yeah? You’re hurtin’ yourself, Dream.”

“I’m sorry,” Dream said. The answer was automatic.

Techno nodded. “It’s fine, it’s fine. Don’ need to apologize.” He hesitated, wondering if this was pushing boundaries too much — wondering if Dream even allowed himself to have boundaries right now — then asked, “Why were you cryin?’”

Dream took a shuddering breath. His hands clenched and unclenched in front of him. “I made him upset.”

“What, Phil? He wasn’ upset with you, Dream, it’s fine.”

“He had to leave. He’s not — you came, instead? I’ll be good.”

“Good for what?” Techno asked slowly.

“I need to be punished,” Dream said. Techno drew back slightly, and Dream seemed to take that entirely the wrong way. “I — I’ll be good though, it’s fine, I deserve it, I’ll do better,” he said quickly. Desperately. “I’ll learn. I won’t do it again.”

“Dream, I’m not gonna… I’m not gonna hurt you,” Techno said. Dream stopped. He wasn’t looking at him, eyes glued to the floor. “No one here is gonna lay a hand on you. Doesn’t matter what you do, what you think you did ‘wrong’ — no one here is gonna hurt you.” He hated that he had to say it. Absolutely hated that he had to assure his once rival, once ally, once almost friend that he wouldn’t hurt him while he sat shivering on his bed, tear tracks staining his face. “Got it?”

Dream nodded. His expression was confused, doubtful, but he didn’t protest. That was progress, right? Maybe? His breathing was slower, at least.

“You look confused, man,” Techno said, with an awkward chuckle. “Chill. Really. It’s, uh, it’s a lot. I know. I’m sorry. I’m… yeahhh, I suck at this. Is there… is there anything I can get for ya? Or… questions, or anything?”

Dream opened his mouth, then immediately shut it again.

“It’s all good,” Techno promised. “Go ahead. You can talk whenever you want, it’s fine, Dream.”

“Why do you call me that, s— Techno?” Dream blurted out. He clenched his hands again. “You — I’m not — I don’t understand.”

Techno blinked slowly. “Why do I call you… what?”

“That. Dream. I don’t…?”

“That’s… your name?” Techno said slowly.

“Oh,” Dream said. “Okay.”

“Wh — what d’you mean, okay? D’you want me to call you somethin’ else?” Techno asked, with a weak sort of half laugh, shoving down the rising alarm in his chest for what felt like the fifth time that day.

“N-no,” Dream stuttered. “You can call me whatever you want, I — I’m yours.”

“You’re not mine,” Techno said firmly. “You don’… belong to anyone, Dream, just to you. But you… your name is Dream. I know this. You literally told me. A while ago.”

“Oh,” Dream said again. “I forgot. I’m sorry.”

“It’s… you don’t need to apologize. Just… what did you think your name was?”

Dream stared at him. Again with that — ‘this is an obvious answer’ expression. When Techno didn’t retract the question, Dream hesitantly said, “Nothing? I’m not — a person, I don’t have a name. Only people get names.”

“Good thing you’re a person, then,” Techno said, half joking. “Albeit a homeless one.” He sighed, dragging a hand down his face. This was a mess. Prime, this was such a mess. This went beyond memory issues, beyond the obvious torture and conditioning and whatever else that had happened in Las Nevadas. Dream did not think he was a person. He couldn’t even remember his own name. Was he really… was he still really Dream? No, of course he was. The old Dream was in there somewhere, Techno just had to find him and pull him out. “Dream, I’m gonna tell you some things,” he said. “Everything I’m gonna tell you is true, alright? You just… lemme know if it’s… confusing, or anything.” He ignored the fact that the old Dream would have found this incredibly condescending. Ignored the fact that he was having to explain Dream to Dream. Techno had to help him, he had to, and if this was how he could do it… then this was how he could do it.

“Dream, you are your own person,” Techno said firmly. “You don’t belong to anyone but yourself. Your name is Dream, which, I’ll be honest, never thought I’d have to tell you. Phil and I aren’t gonna hurt you, we’re… friends of yours.” Friends, allies, whatever. “We knew you before Las Nevadas, before Pandora, before all of it. I know you, Dream. This isn’t you.” The last word were almost pleading, almost begging Dream to remember something, to acknowledge it.

Dream didn’t respond immediately. He rubbed one hand over the bandages on the other. His hands were trembling. Finally, he mumbled, “Okay.”

That wasn’t remembrance. That wasn’t comprehension. That was Dream… acknowledging what Techno had said. It wouldn’t take a genius to see that Dream didn’t really comprehend or believe a word of it.

Techno sighed. “That’s… that’s alrigh’, Dream. That’s alrigh.’ We’ll work on it. For right now….” He pulled himself to his feet, extending a hand to Dream, desperate for some sense of normality, of getting something that he could at least begin to work with. Maybe it would help if Dream actually left the room some. It would be fine. It had only been a few days. It would be fine. “Wanna tour of the house?”

Chapter Text

The house tour didn’t go terribly, but it didn’t go fantastically, either. Techno led Dream around the house and then, when that failed to get any kind of reaction out of him, the whole property, narrating the whole way, and shooting looks at his companion to see if his overly descriptive and purposefully in-depth explanations helped him remember anything. Things such as, “Aaand over here’s the fence were you jumped over into my yard that one time and I laughed at you for being homeless! Good times, good times, remember that?”

Dream, however, didn’t say a word the whole trip. Techno had draped a dark green, wool cloak around him, so at least he wasn’t freezing, but he still seemed pretty out of it. He was closely following Techno, sure, and he was looking where he pointed and everything, but his eyes were glassy and vacant. It wasn’t long before his pace started to slow, despite how much he was clearly trying to keep up with Techno.

When Dream finally tripped over some too-deep snow and nearly fell over, stopped only by Techno’s hand on his collar yanking him back up, Techno finally decided it was time to head back. “Welp,” he said, “this has been fun, this has been fun. This, uh, ringin’ any bells for ya?”

Dream looked at him, not quite in his eyes. He shook his head. Techno deflated slightly. He reached out and patted Dream’s shoulder. “That’s alrigh’, that’s alrigh’. Let’s go back… home, yeah?” He hesitated on the word, but didn’t really how what else to call it. For the time being, at least, it was Dream’s home, until Techno could help him get better.

(If that ever happened.)

Techno sighed, and started back towards the house. Dream followed silently behind him.

When they reached the porch, Techno paused, turning back to him. Dream immediately froze, one foot on the first step, his eyes wide. His nose was red from the cold.

“I probably shoulda’ asked this sooner, but uh, got any questions?”

Dream hesitated, opened his mouth, then shut it again.

“C’mon, man, it’s okay, you can ask me whatever,” Techno assured him.

“Is there… do I…. You showed me… everything. You gave me the… the tour. That’s how it works. But… what do you want me to do now?” Dream asked, fumbling over the words.

Techno blinked. “Heh?”

“What do you want me to do, si — Techno?” Dream corrected himself, and Techno dared to hope for a moment.

“Heh? Just… you can do whatever you want,” he said slowly. “S’long as it’s not hurtin’ anyone.”

“But — I’m — yours,” Dream said, increasingly desperate, and Techno’s hopes were completely dashed to pieces. Dream’s hands clenched over the cloak, bandages still wrapped around them. “I know you said I’m not — that — but I am, and you’re not —“ His breaths were speeding up. “Please just tell me what —“ He stopped, stilled, and drew himself up slightly, straightening. “What are your orders, sir?” he asked, and his voice was as empty as his eyes. 

“Wh—“ Techno started helplessly. Prime, he had really dared to hope that they were past this. The whole ‘you’re your own person and everything’ really hadn’t sunk in. “Dream, you don’t have to…”

“Please,” Dream begged, and there was that emotion again, that desperate, bone-deep terror that Techno was becoming all-too-familiar with. “Please, please just — please, I’ll be good, I won’t panic, I won’t stop you, I’ll be Dream, I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t—“

“Dream, Dream, it’s alright, I’m not gonna hurt you,” Techno said helplessly, starting forward, but halting when Dream flinched. “What… what d’you think I’m gonna do here, c’mon, man.”

“Don’t get rid of me,” Dream whispered. There were tears in his eyes, and his chest was rising and falling rapidly, but he hadn’t moved, still at the base of the porch steps. “Please don’t get rid of me, sir, please don’t, I-I’ll do whatever you want, I’ll be good, just don’t get rid of me, not like they did, not like the Warden and Sir did, please.”

“C’mon… Dream, c’mon, I wouldn’t do that. I wouldn’t kick you out. You’re stuck with me,” Techno said, half chuckling. His chest felt heavy. “I’m not gettin’ rid of ya, I’m not takin’ ya back… where you were before. You’re home, alright? You’re gonna be okay, and you don’t have to do anythin’ you don’t want to.”

This did absolutely nothing to calm Dream, who was still staring up at Techno with tears in his eyes, silently begging him. Techno sighed. He hated to do it. He really, really did. He didn’t want to give Dream ‘orders,’ treat him like he was nothing more than a — than some kind of dog, some kind of animal, but Dream was stuck so firmly in that mindset. Techno couldn’t break him out of it, not yet. He didn’t know how. He’d tried, and this was the result. The only other option he could see was to gently lead him out, one step at a time. Dumping everything on him at once clearly wasn’t working.

“Alright,” Techno said at last. “Alright. I’ll… I’ve got somethin’ for you, Dream. Just… come inside first, alright?” Almost before he finished speaking, Dream was stumbling up the steps in his borrowed boots, trailing snow across the wood.

Techno pulled open the door and led him inside, hanging his own scarlet cloak by the door before turning back to Dream, who was standing unmoving by the closed door.

“Okay,” Techno said. “Okay. Let’s see. There’s a, uh, very good and very important job that I have for you that I am not about to make up.” He hesitated. “I’m guessin’ you’re not gonna take ‘go to sleep and just relax for a bit’ as an instruction, huh?”

Dream only offered a slow blink in response. His red hands were still clenched around the cloak.

Techno sighed. “That’s fine, that’s fine. It was worth a shot. I need you to….” He cast his eyes about the cabin. His gaze landed on the dog kennel visible through the window, and considered giving him some kind of job out there for all of two seconds before deciding that placing Dream, who was convinced he was not a person, with a bunch of animals, would just be a terrible idea. “I need you to sort out this chest,” Techno said at last, gesturing at the first chest he saw. He stepped over to it and flipped it open, hurriedly skimming over the contents to make sure there was nothing terribly dangerous in it. There wasn’t anything that looked like it could kill anyone, at least, and Techno turned back to Dream. “Just… sort it out however ya want, I’m not picky. Take your time. You cool with that?” he checked.

Dream nodded, looking beyond relieved. Some of the fear had left his eyes, his shoulders relaxing slightly. The fact that Dream was so… relieved to get ‘orders’ did not make Techno feel any better.

“Alright, then,” Techno said, falsely optimistic, clapping his hands together. “I’ll, uh, leave you to it. You can take off your shoes if ya want,” he added.

Dream nodded. He seemed to be waiting for something. Techno gave an awkward thumbs up, and hurriedly left the entryway into the living room, shutting the door behind him. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to take his eyes off Dream, but maybe the guy was waiting for him to leave? Regardless, he kept his ears perked up for any alarming sounds that might come through the door. After a few seconds ticked by, he heard the chest open. There was that, at least.

Phil looked up from where he was settled in the middle of the floor by the fire, flipping through the stack of books piled next to him. “How was the tour?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Techno groaned, sinking down into his favorite chair by the fire. 

Phil chuckled without humor, closing the book he’d been studying. “That bad?”

“He’s not doin’ good, Phil, he’s not doin’ good,” Techno said, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back against the chair. “Now he’s off thinkin’ he’s gotta have some kinda job or we’re gonna kick ‘im out.”

“I was honestly afraid of that,” Phil sighed. “That kind of mental conditioning… it can’t be undone in a few days. We’ve gotta be patient, mate.”

Techno opened his eyes, straightening. “I’m doin’ the right thing, right, Phil?” he checked. “I don’t wanna order him around like a — a — whatever Quackity had him doing. But I dunno how else to get him to chill.”

“I think you’re on the right track,” Phil assured him. “I’ve been — researching.” He gestured at the books. “Or, well, trying to. What I’ve got is pretty limited, unfortunatly. Training, and conditioning, and mental manipulation and all of that.” He caught Techno staring at the book on dog training in his hands, and sighed. “I know, mate, I know. It’s not what I want, but…. Nothing about the situation is good. This is all we’ve got to work with. If Dream is going to get at all better, we have to start small. If we can get him to believe we won’t hurt him, or… get rid of him, that’d be a good first step.”

“Meanin’ giving him orders.”

“Dream was stuck in that place for who knows how long, and he quite literally cannot remember anything else,” Phil said. He tapped his fingers absently along the spine of the book. “He’s already had a freaking massive shift. We can’t change everything all at once, it would make everything a lot harder on him. Meaning… yes, giving him what he’s familiar with, just in a much better way. Not harmful, or cruel, just… helping him along until he can better accept what’s happened.”

“I hate orderin’ him around,” Techno muttered. “Quackity did that. I don’t want….” He trailed off.

“It’s not the same,” Phil told him gently.

“I know that, Phil,” Techno said, letting his head thump back again. “I know. Just… I don’t wanna — retrain him. He’s a person. It doesn’ feel right.”

Phil sighed. “I know. Neither do I. But we don’t exactly have many other options, do we?”

Techno couldn’t find an argument to that.

The crackling of the fire sounded loud in the silence that followed.

***

Dream knelt by the chest, the cloak still around his shoulders. He hadn’t been told to take it off, and so… he hadn’t. Obviously. Beyond that, it was… nice. That alone made him want to take it off, because he didn’t deserve something like the cloak, something that warm and comfortable. But Techno would be upset if he did, and Dream didn’t want to upset him again. He’d done that too much today, with him and Phil.

Techno was already being so kind to him, finally, finally giving him proper orders, and Dream wanted to cry from the relief of it.

He pulled the chest open, his hands hovering uncertainly over the contents. It was an unorganized jumble of blocks and items, and he had no idea where to even start. He’d never been given a task like this before, but he wasn’t about to complain. Things were finally making sense, finally working how they should. He hadn’t wanted to accept that this was his permanent station, but it must be. Techno had given him a tour of the property, and then he’d given him an order, just like Sir had when Dream had first arrived in Las Nevadas. Dream would have liked more, would have liked to know what the rules were, but Techno seemed hesitant to give them to him. Philza as well. Maybe he was just expected to know them. Yes, that had to be it. Most of what Techno and Phil said didn’t make sense anyway.

Dream started sifting through the chest, his still-bandaged fingers trembling as he picked up various items and set them aside. A clock. A lantern. Stone. And — his heart stopped when he picked it up — shears.

He stared at them for a long time, memories of a cell and obsidian and blood and pain flashing through his mind, before he shook them away, determinedly setting the shears aside. He didn’t need to think about that. He didn’t want to think about that. The scars crisscrossing his arms seemed to itch under the cloak. He had a job to do, and he wasn’t going to mess it up. He’d already messed up enough today, and Techno hadn’t punished him yet. He was so much kinder than Sir had been —

Dream actually drew back at the thought, blinking rapidly, the stack of iron ingots in his hands forgotten. What was he thinking? Sir and the Warden were the only reasons he was useful, the only reason he was kept in check, kept from being bad. They had given him a home, a purpose, and they’d never mistreated him — he was being bad. He needed to stop being bad.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Dream clenched his hands in front of him. He needed to stop. He was feeling sorry for himself, wasn’t he, and he couldn’t do that. But he couldn’t help it. He’d been taken out of Las Nevadas. And Sir hadn’t come for him. He’d abandoned him, he’d gotten rid of him, and it was Dream’s fault. It had to be. He’d messed up, he’d disappointed Sir, and he should have been abandoned altogether. Left alone to fend for himself, which he wasn’t able to do. The Warden and Sir had told him that time and time again, that he wouldn’t last without them. And he believed it. But he had another chance. Techno had given him another chance.

Dream let out a slow breath, and opened his eyes, willing back tears and ignoring the phantom pains crawling over his skin and continuing to work. Technoblade had given him another chance, and Dream would rather die than mess it up. He would obey him, he would be good, he would nod along and agree with and listen to whatever weird things Techno and Phil told him, because he couldn’t bear the alternative.

He could do this.

He could do this.

He had to.

Chapter Text

As the days wore on, Techno tried to follow Phil’s advice. He gave Dream instructions for the most harmless and potentially healing things he could think of, and Dream, without fail, obeyed. This had some benefits, but also pretty significant drawbacks.

A major benefit was that Dream seemed more at ease, or at least had less complete mental breakdowns. He also actually left his room and moved around — even if it was only after Techno instructed him to. He also ate more, slept better, and stayed hydrated.

A major drawback with this was, unfortunately, directly related to the benefits. Dream would do exactly what Techno or Phil told him to, but… little else. He wouldn’t eat unless they told him to, wouldn’t sleep, wouldn’t speak. There was an unfortunate instance where Techno had gotten him a glass of water, but forgotten to explicitly tell him to drink it, and as a result he’d come back a while later to find a very pale and shaky Dream staring down at the still-full cup. 

At times like these, Techno wasn’t sure if giving Dream ‘less harmful’ instructions was actually helping him, or just perpetuating his belief that he wasn’t a person. Techno always tried to tell Dream it was his choice, that he could do whatever he wanted, but Dream would always just… silently wait until Techno actually told him to do something. 

Another problem that Techno had become very quickly aware of was that Dream had clearly been trained beyond just following instructions. He responded with chilling automation to certain words Techno carelessly said, or gestures he unknowingly made. Techno had started making a list so he could avoid using them, and Phil sometimes added to it, in addition to writing things that triggered or hurt Dream. It was a depressingly long list.

Techno was not someone to be easily frightened, but the first time it happened, it scared him. 

It was about a week or so after Techno had gotten him out of Las Nevadas. He’d been making dinner for himself, Phil, and Dream, with the latter hovering somewhere behind him. He undoubtedly wanted to help, but Techno had waved it off and just told him to chill. He wasn’t sure if Dream was actually taking that seriously or not, or just standing there.

Techno added more spices to his amazingly fantastic dish, still speaking to Dream, and trying to get him to join in voluntarily in the conversation. “See, because governments are institutionally corrupted, right from the moment they’re thought of, because it’s always someone seeking power over others, y’know?”

Dream didn’t say anything. Techno hadn’t really expected him to, but he was still disappointed. He glanced out the window in front of him, out across the snowy landscape, before turning his attention back to the food. “People always say, ‘oh, the governmen’ wouldn’t do that!’ Oh, yes they would. It’s not a new thing; every government I’ve ever seen does it. You’ve seen it too, at Doomsday and everythin’. People like to — Hey!” he barked, as one of his many foxes leaped up onto the outside windowsill, scrabbling against the wood. “Hey, get down, no, down, stop that, you’re not —“

There was a noise behind Techno, a sort of scuffling crash, and he whipped around, eyes searching for the source of it. It took him a second to find it, before he looked down and saw Dream. Dream was face-down on the ground, pressed as low against the wooden flooring as he could, completely still and utterly silent except for an odd sort of whimpering noise that escaped him.

Techno knelt down beside him, nudging his arm, panic chasing his thoughts around in circles. Chat was absolutely no help, only adding to his confusion. “Woah, hey, Dream, what’s wrong?” he asked, one hand hovering over his shoulder. “Hey, hey, c’mon, get up, it’s okay.”

Dream shuddered, but didn’t move beyond that.

Techno patted Dream on the shoulder, before gently taking his upper arms and pulling him up onto his knees. Dream looked at him with a mix of fear and confusion, his brow furrowed.

“Wanna tell me what jus’ happened?” Techno asked, his voice carefully calm. He had a suspicion for what it was, but Prime, he hoped he was wrong.

“You… said to?” Dream said uncertainly. His hands clenched in front of him. “I’m — sorry. I’m sorry.”

“I was… talkin’ to the fox, Dream. I’m not gonna… I’m not doin’ anythin’ to ya. You don’ have to do that.”

Dream didn’t meet his eyes. 

Techno sighed, and pushed himself upright, gently taking Dream up with him. “C’mon, man, you’re gonna hurt yourself,” Techno said softly. “It’s okay, it’s alright. You’re fine. No one’s upset,” he added, seeing the way Dream’s face had fallen. “No one’s upset.” He turned back to his slightly burned food, resisting the urge to fling it through the window. “No one’s upset.”

Dream didn’t say anything, and until he’d finished making the food, Techno didn’t either, simply setting a plate in front of him and telling Dream to eat. He did — he ate all of it — but he also ended up throwing up later, and cried about it. Techno told him it was alright, and gently whispered assurances to him until he fell asleep, tears still staining his face.

The incident was the first one that had happened — or at least the first that Techno had noticed. Who’s to say he hadn’t unintentionally given Dream other ‘commands’ that Dream had responded to? All he knew was that it wasn’t the last one.

Techno couldn’t help but wonder what had gone on in prison, in Las Nevadas, to make Dream like this. To condition him to the point where he would do something like this without a second thought. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He was afraid of what he would find out.

***

Many months ago: Las Nevadas has acquired its guard dog. This dog is unwilling to be there, and not very well trained. It is liable to bite anyone who comes near, except its handlers, of course, and it doesn’t listen very well. This won’t do. A good dog should do everything its told without question. It can be a daunting task to train such an animal, but the dog’s handlers are well up to the challenge.

Let’s start at the beginning.

***

These are two very important commands to teach early on. You don’t want your dog running away from you, after all.

It was early in the morning when Dream had been kicked awake by the Warden and dragged into one of the larger, hollowed out rooms under Las Nevadas. Sleep made him slow, and he didn’t resist as Sam checked the shock collar around his neck, simply tilting his head back to make it easier for him.

“Behave,” the Warden warned, stepping back. Dream nodded. “I don’t want to deal with stitching you back together again. So… stay.”

Dream nodded again. The Warden gave him a long look over the top of his mask, then departed, the heavy iron door banging shut behind him.

Dream remained standing in the center of the room, his gaze unfocused as he waited. He knew what kind of day it was. It was better than remaining chained to the floor in a dark room all day, at least. He wasn’t sure why both Quackity and Sam were obsessed with this, with this… training, but he didn’t fight it. Usually. He fought sometimes, when he was feeling particularly petulant, when he couldn’t stand to be treated like their plaything, like a… a dog, but…. He was very, very aware that if he fought too much, if he resisted too much, then he would end up back in Pandora. And he would rather die than let that happen.

Besides. All that Sam had asked him to do was stay. That wasn’t hard, that wasn’t painful. It didn’t cause him any harm, so why resist?

He wasn’t sure how long he was standing there before the door banged open again, and Quackity strode in, a grin on his face and a cigarette in his hand. Dream’s heart dropped. “Good morning, good morning,” he said cheerfully. “Bright and sunny out, huh? Not that you’d know. Sleep well, good dreams? I’ve got something fun for you today, and you’re gonna cooperate, right?” He halted in front of Dream, that same crooked smile on his face. “Right?”

He pressed the end of the cigarette against Dream’s collarbone. Dream let out a shuddering breath, briefly closing his eyes agaisnt the burning pain. Don’t fight, don’t fight, don’t fight. Quackity tossed the cigarette aside, backing up several paces. “Alright, you already know what we’re gonna do. I’m gonna give you a command, and you’re gonna listen, yeah? You’re gonna come over to me. If not….” He slipped a hand in his pocket, and pulled out the familiar small black device, pressing down on it.

Blinding pain shot through Dream, and he crumpled, hands raised to the collar around his neck. It abruptly shut off, and he gasped, hands hovering over his neck.

“Alright,” Quackity said, as if through a haze. “Come.”

***

This command is more difficult to teach, as no dog likes to be in such a submissive and vulnerable position.

“Stop fighting me, prisoner,” Quackity growled. He landed a kick against Dream’s side, knocking him onto the ground. “I told you, down.” He planted his foot against Dream’s spine, pinning him, and pressing him into the floor.

“Down,” Sir hissed, and a current of electricity shot through the collar around Dream’s neck, making him gasp, his vision whiting out. Something hard hit against the back of his skull, and his head thudded to the ground. He felt something warm and wet trickling down his forehead, a coppery taste filling his mouth as the electricity was cut off. He tried to push himself upright, arms trembling. He wasn’t doing this, he wasn’t a dog, he wasn’t going to lose any more of his dignity to Quackity, he’d lost enough in that Prime-forsaken cell —

“Down.”

He was panting, unable to get breath into his lungs. Another jolt of electricity went through his collar, and he screamed.

“Down.”

Dream couldn’t hold himself up any longer, and let himself collapse back onto the ground, hating himself, hating Quackity, hating all of it.

“There we go,” Quackity crooned. “Good boy. Down. That’s it.”

Nausea rose up in his chest, and the prisoner closed his eyes.

***

Nobody wants their guard dog to attack welcome guests, but of course you want it to attack unwanted visitors. That is why this command is so important.

The room was spinning and covered in red. The prisoner couldn’t make anything out clearly, barely able to keep himself upright. There was a mob in front of him, an enemy, a threat, but he couldn’t do anything about it until —

“Prisoner.” The Warden’s voice cut through the scarlet haze in his mind. “Attack.”

Dream lunged at the mob, raising the stone sword in his hand. He had no idea what happened, no idea if he was injured or not, his skin buzzing with adrenaline. He stabbed the sword down again and again and again and —

“Heel.”

The prisoner fell back, leaving the mob bloodied and unmoving. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, his hands were shaking, and his head was spinning. He didn’t know how long this had been happening, or how much longer it would continue. Just that he had to obey.

He didn’t dare do anything else.

***

Hand signals or whistles can be just as effective as spoken commands, especially in loud or widespread environments. 

The flashing neon lights, clattering of coins, and jumble of voices surrounded the prisoner, stationed at his post against the wall. He was watching the room, eyes roving back and forth without seeing much. He’d hit his head that morning, and caused his shock collar to go off as well. His head was pounding. It was his own fault. But it made everything hard to see, the world a multicolored blur.

With more effort than he thought it should have taken, he pulled in a breath. His ribs ached. Across the room, someone cheered, slapping the side of a slot machine, and the noise felt like a knife through his skull.

Nothing felt right. He was standing against the wall, but he couldn’t feel it. Couldn’t feel the ground beneath his feet. What was he doing here?

A low but piercing whistle cut through the empty buzzing in the prisoner’s mind, and he turned towards it, focusing his gaze on Quackity, who was leaning against the wall on the far side of the casino, by one of the employees only doors. Sir made a two fingered gesture with one hand. He didn’t look happy.

The prisoner was halfway across the room before he registered that he was moving, pain throbbing in his leg every other step. He followed Sir into the back hallway, and the door closed behind him. He didn’t know what he had done wrong, but Sir wasn’t happy with him.

That’s okay. Anything Sir did was just to make him better.

The prisoner didn’t protest against the pain that followed.

There was a part of him that wondered if he should have.

***

You have to be careful not to try and do too much at once. Make sure to give your dog occasional breaks; this will make it much more eager to return to work.

In, out.

The prisoner breathed slowly, counting his breaths, hunched over on the ground. The chain affixed to his collar was only long enough to get his head a foot or so above the ground, and he ached from holding the same position for so long. How long had he been here?

In, out.

The room was silent and dark, an inky blackness that crawled down his throat and suffocated him. He felt hands on him, but no one was there.

In, out.

If he opened his eyes, he could see shapes in the darkness. Faces, people, monsters. He thought he heard voices. 

In, out.

How long was he going to be here? It felt like hours, but how would he know? He didn’t know how long he was anywhere, how long since he’d been in Pandora and then Las Nevadas, how long since he’d been outside of it.

In, out.

Had he ever been outside of Pandora or Las Nevadas? He thought he had. There had to have been something before that. He knew people, places, events. Something told him he shouldn’t be forgetting things like this. But it felt so utterly unimportant in comparison to everything else.

In, out.

The prisoner lowered his head further, letting his forehead rest against the chilly stone ground. He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about anything. There was nothing for him there.

In, out.

The darkness dragged on.

***

If you just follow these simple steps, you’ll soon be able to make your guard dog do anything you want! It wouldn’t Dream of disobeying you now.

“You’re really going and ruining things like that,” Sir said, cheerfully forced. “We’ve done this enough, this is basic, basic stuff, but you keep messing up! It’s —seriously, just — it’s frustrating! It’s frustrating, man, really! But, ha, Prime, you just can’t do one thing right, can you?”

The prisoner didn’t respond. He wasn’t told to speak, so he remained silent. He knew he had messed up. He’d failed to come when Sir called, and he’d messed up on one of his security patrols. It had been a while since he’d done that badly.

“I really don’t know why we bother to keep you around, gonna have to start cutting your pay or something, geez.” Quackity rolled his eyes, halting by the familiar iron door. He unlocked it, striding inside. The prisoner followed without a word, dropping down to his knees in the center of the room. He knew where this was going, knew he was about to be punished, and severely. It was his own fault; he knew that, too.

Sir clasped the manacles around his wrists, chaining him to the floor, before grabbing the prisoner’s face and tilting his head towards him. The prisoner’s breath stuttered in his chest at the touch, and he couldn’t tell if it was from fear or not.

“Don’t get the wrong idea, prisoner,” Sir said, narrowing his remaining eye. “We’re still going to talk about this later, we are, but I have too much to do tonight topside, so just stay here, yeah? Don’t go anywhere, man, don’t go anywhere, I still need you later. But hey! Just so you don’t get the wrong idea…” Abruptly, he drew his hand back and slapped the prisoner hard across the face. His head snapped to the side, the pain catching up a few seconds later. This wasn’t his punishment. That would come later. He was lucky he didn’t already have broken bones.

“Don’t go anywhere,” Sir said cheerfully. He straightened, brushing off his dress slacks, before striding out of the room, grabbing the torch off the wall as he went. The door slammed shut behind him, and the room was plunged into a familiar darkness. A lock clicked, and the prisoner was left alone. 

Or, at least, he thought he was.

The unfamiliar and yet incredibly familiar piglin hybrid had appeared only moments later, asking him questions he couldn’t answer before dragging him out of the room.

The prisoner didn’t know what was happening, didn’t know who this was, but he wouldn’t fight it.

He’d stopped fighting a long time ago.

Chapter Text

Things were going well. Very, very well. Too well.

Dream was still nervous around Technoblade, still nervous around Philza, still nervous that he would lose everything at any moment, but—it hadn’t happened. He had been there for weeks, and they still hadn’t sent him away.

He had a job, finally. He sorted through Techno’s chests, and then Phil’s, and then started on the endless storage chests and barrels in both of their basements. Along with helping with whatever else they asked him to do. He was relieved beyond belief to finally be useful. They had been treating him so carefully for weeks, not punishing him even when he messed up terribly, apparently getting his strength up for whatever reason, but now he was finally doing things. Surely, he would be back to his regular work in no time (they said he wouldn’t. They said this was all. They said they weren’t going to punish him. But Dream knew better than to believe it).

He wasn’t exactly sure why it had taken so long for them to give him a job, but maybe they just hadn’t known what to do with him yet. They didn’t have a huge casino that needed looking over, they didn’t have an area that they wanted him to patrol, they apparently didn’t want to take their frustrations out on him when they had a stressful day (they said he was a person. They said he didn’t need a job. They said he didn’t belong to them. But that wasn’t what the prisoner had been taught. Those lessons had been taught through blood and bruises and broken bones, and he wasn’t going to forget them any time soon).

Regardless of the reason, he was determined to not mess up his new position. Not any more than he already had, at least. He’d disappointed Techno, he’d made him upset, he knew he had. But he was getting better at it! He was figuring out what the rules were—both the ones Sir and the Warden had given him, the ones Techno told him, and the unspoken ones. Now that he knew the rules, he could avoid breaking them, and therefore avoid making Techno upset, and therefore avoid getting punished (Techno hadn’t punished him yet. There was a part of Dream that thought that maybe he wouldn’t. The thought that Techno wouldn’t almost scared him).

Dream had made a mental list of them all, and continuously ran over the rules in his mind whenever he had a spare minute. It had helped him follow the rules in Las Nevadas, and it would help him here. Maybe—just maybe—if he was good enough, he could stay.

It had lasted for a few weeks. He didn’t know the days exactly, and couldn’t remember when he’d first arrived. But Sir hadn’t come for him, the Warden hadn’t come for him, and so he was probably supposed to stay here—right? (Techno said that Sir wasn’t his owner anymore, and there were times when Dream almost believed it. But his smile was burned into his flesh and the marks from his collar were still around his neck, and what else would that mean?)

Dream ran out of things to do. He’d gone through all the chests, all the barrels, every storage room that either of his owners had. He had shifted back to his regular sleep schedule, which was a few hours a night (Techno didn’t want him to be awake so much, he knew that. So he simply waited in his room for hours after he awoke, staring up at the ceiling, until he judged it safe to leave. Techno didn’t come to retrieve him like Sir did).

The fact that Dream no longer had a job made him nervous. Techno hadn’t given him a new one. He told him he could do whatever he wanted. He was a person. He could choose things. But Dream didn’t want to. He wanted his rules, he wanted orders, he wanted that stability. He didn’t know what he would do without it. If there was a time before all his rules, he didn’t remember it (he wasn’t allowed to). He already ate without an order, and slept without an order, and sometimes even spoke without an order—wasn’t that enough? What more did Techno want from him? He told him he was a person, but what did that mean? What was Dream supposed to do? He just wanted to make his owners happy. He wanted them to smile and nod and pat him on the head and tell him he did well, and mean it.

He needed things to be normal again. He needed to—have a job, or be sent back to Las Nevadas, or something. He couldn’t deal with this awful uncertainty. He would rather be punished every day than live on a constant knife’s edge of worry.

He decided that’s what he needed to do. He needed to get things to be normal again, he needed Techno to behave more like his owner so that Dream would know how to act, how to make him happy. No matter what he did, Techno never seemed fully pleased with him. His smiles were always hesitant and sad, his praise was always so carefully worded, and it made Dream anxious. What was he doing wrong? He did everything Techno and Philza told him to, he didn’t say the things they didn’t want him to say, and he acted ‘like a person,’ as they put it, as best he knew how. Why could he never please them?

If he couldn’t please them, Dream would have to make them upset. The idea made his heart pound and his mouth feel dry, but he didn’t know what else to do. He had to get some semblance of normality back, and if the only way to do that was to be punished, then so be it. Dogs weren’t supposed to deliberately disobey their owners, and Dream was no better than a dog. He should know better. But Techno wanted him to be a person, right? Maybe this was what people did. The thought felt spiteful.

Techno and Philza hadn’t punished him yet. The whole time he’d been there, they’d never laid a hand on him, never withheld a meal, never hurt him. But he’d also never deliberately disobeyed them. He wondered how far he would have to push before they snapped.

***

Techno stood at the counter in the kitchen, slicing the tops off carrots to feed to his horses later. He felt fairly relaxed, humming a slight tune under his breath. The late morning sunlight fell through the window across his face, and he sighed contentedly. This… was a surprisingly good day. Phil was off at his own house, safe. Niki had messaged him earlier saying she and Ranboo were together visiting Snowchester, safe (Niki knew about Dream too, of course—both of them did, even if Ranboo hadn’t come back since that first night. Techno had asked both of them to give them some distance for a while, while things were still so uncertain). His animals were healthy and safe. Dream was… well, Dream was Dream. He was doing alright, too. It had been a few weeks since they’d brought him out of Las Nevadas, and he was doing better. He ate and slept and spoke without direct instructions to, and it felt horribly depressing to call that progress, but it was still progress. Techno would dare to say he was getting better. He was getting better.

Techno dropped some of the newly cut carrots into the bowl, glancing out the window. He could see smoke rising from Phil’s chimney, just across their shared porch. Phil would probably be over later—he came over most days, the pair long since having stopped knocking at each other’s doors.

Techno’s ears pricked up when he heard soft footsteps behind him, and he glanced over to see Dream in the doorway, his plate from breakfast in his hands. There was still some food on it, but Techno had come to expect that. He’d made the mistake of telling Dream to make sure he’d eat all his food only once, and as a result Dream had choked it all down and spent most of the morning throwing up. Since then, Techno had made it very clear that Dream only had to eat what he could. Today, though, it looked like he’d eaten most it.

“Mornin,’” Techno greeted, turning back to his carrots. “Ah, well, good mornin’ again, I suppose. Hope you liked breakfast. I was thinkin’ about—“

A loud crash from behind him, and Techno whirled around. Dream’s hands were still out in front of him, but the glass plate was in pieces on the floor, bits of food scattered in the broken glass. Techno blinked. “That’s—uh—that’s fine, I’ll take care of that,” he said after a moment. “You good?”

Dream didn’t say anything, his eyes glued to the broken glass at his feet.

“Gimme a sec to finish this,” Techno said, indicating the carrots. “I don’t want ya touching broken glass, alright? It’s fine.”

With no response from Dream, Techno went back to chopping carrots. Dream had this worrying tendency to not worry enough about his own well-being, and in all honesty, Techno preferred to keep him as far away as possible from things that could hurt him.

The second crash startled Techno just as much as the first, and he jerked around to see—well, he wasn’t sure exactly what Dream had dropped, but there was more glass on the tile floor.

“Okay, man, maybe just… let’s stop droppin’ stuff,” Techno said, frowning slightly. “It’s chill, it’s chill, but uh. Yeahhh.” Dream hadn’t even had anything else in his hands—had he picked something else up and then just immediately dropped it? “Just back up from it a bit, I don’t want ya hurtin’ yourself.”

He turned back towards the window, taking up the vegetable knife again. Not even five seconds later, there was another crash. Alright, this time it was definitely on purpose.

“Dream!” Techno finally snapped, turning towards him, the vegetable knife still in one hand. “Seriously, man, stop that.”

Dream froze, eyes wide. Techno glared at him for a long moment, and Dream didn’t look away. He was shaking, Techno realized. Dream was trembling. His eyes were shining, wet, but he didn’t look away, didn’t move. His eyes flicked once to the knife in Techno’s hand before darting back to his face. Shame crashed over him, and Techno turned away, back to the counter. He clenched the vegetable knife in his hand, before forcing himself to release it onto the cutting board. He couldn’t get mad at Dream. Couldn’t stay mad at him, at least. How could he? Knowing what Dream had been through, how he was trying so hard to make Techno happy, knowing why he was trying so hard—how could Techno be mad at him over something as stupid as a few broken dishes? Even if they were broken on purpose, they were still just dishes.

“I’m sorry,” Techno muttered after a long moment. “That was… uncalled for. You’re fine, man, you’re fine. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t break our plates, though. I’ll clean ‘em up later, don’t worry about it. I don’t want you hurtin’ yourself, ‘kay? I’m not upset,” he promised. Chat strongly disagreed.

Dream made an odd, choked-off sound behind him. When Techno had steadied himself enough and turned around, he was gone.

Techno sighed, and grabbed the broom to start sweeping up the broken glass. He didn’t know what was going on. Dream had never done anything like this before—why was he purposefully going and breaking things? What was the point? Did he just have a bad morning or something? He hadn’t seemed upset when Techno had brought him breakfast earlier.

He swept the mess of glass into the dustpan and dumped it into his garbage, dusting off his hands before going back to his carrots. He really needed to go check on Dream, he just… needed a minute. Maybe try and figure out what was going on with him. Yeah. Yeah, that was a good plan.

Techno kept cutting his carrots.

He took longer than he normally would, but he needed time to clear his head, make sure he wouldn’t come across as upset when he went to find Dream. His former rival was so quick to pick up on even the slightest hint of displeasure in his tone, and Prime, Techno wondered if he’d done that before Las Nevadas, before Pandora.

He tossed the raw carrots to his horses, scratched them on the head a few times, and went back inside. He stomped the snow off his boots, and hung up his cloak by the door, setting the empty carrot bowl onto the counter.

“Uh—Dream?” he called. He glanced into his bedroom, but it was empty, the curtains still drawn. Dream preferred his room dark. “Dream, you’re still here, right?” He stepped into the hallway, and halted, lifting his snout to sniff the air. There was blood. There was fresh blood, very close by. And it was definitely Dream’s. Chat was starting to get louder in his mind.

“Dream!” Techno all but shouted, panic drumming in his chest, darting into the living room. “Dream, are you—“ He froze in the doorway, staring down at the scene in front of him.

Dream was sitting in the middle of the living room floor, a piece of jagged glass in his hand. His sleeve was pushed back, and there were thin, red cuts all down his forearm. There was blood. On the glass, on his shaking hands, on his arm, spotted on the hardwood floor. Techno couldn’t breathe.

Dream looked up at Techno. His eyes were wide. His hand stilled, the glass hovering above his arm.

“Dream,” Techno said, and was surprised that his voice was steady. “Drop it.”

The glass clattered to the floor. Dream didn’t seem to be breathing either. Techno could smell his fear, hot and sharp, right along with the blood.

Techno dropped down beside him, taking his arm gently, despite the chorus of voices screaming in his head. The smell of blood was almost overwhelming this close. He carefully looked over the cuts—they weren’t deep, but they would still need to be cleaned and bandaged. A healing potion or two, and they would be gone by morning.

“C’mon,” Techno said, lifting Dream to his feet. “Let’s get you cleaned up, alright?” He thought he’d feel upset, furious, that Dream was hurting himself like this. But the only thing he could manage was exhaustion and worry. He couldn’t blame Dream for this. Just like the broken plates. Dream wasn’t thinking clearly. It wasn’t his fault, what had been done to him. He didn’t deserve it. And he didn’t deserve this, either. No one deserved to be hurt how he had been.

To his surprise, Dream jerked his arm away, stumbling back.

“Dream? C’mon, man. You’re hurtin’ yourself,” Techno said softly. He didn’t need to say it. Dream knew he was hurting himself. Techno still didn’t know why. This went beyond just a lack of care for his own well-being. This was a lot worse.

“You’re—not—mad?” Dream choked out, and oh, why was that what he was worried about? He was clutching at his bleeding arm, shaking from head to foot, and he was asking if Techno was upset with him.

“Kinda worried for ya, not gonna lie,” Techno said at last. “It’s really not a good idea to do this. I’m not mad, though. Don’t worry. Come—“

“No!” Dream exploded. Techno blinked. Dream never yelled. He barely even raised his voice at all. “No, no no no no, you’re—you’re supposed to be mad!”

“Heh?” Techno felt totally lost. He didn’t dare move forward, not wanting to set Dream off more, but he shifted his weight slightly, wanting nothing more than to get to Dream and make it all feel better. But he didn’t know how. “What d’you…?”

“Just hurt me,” Dream pleaded, begged. “Please, just—punish me, just hurt me, just make it—normal again, please.”

“Wh—Dream, I’m not gonna hurt you,” Techno said. “Doesn’ matter what you do, no one here is gonna hurt you.” He swallowed. “You don’t—do you want us to?”

“No,” Dream half sobbed. He was shaking more now. “I—yes. No. I—I don’t understand. You don’t make sense and I can’t make you happy and I just—“ His legs gave out, and he crumpled to the floor. Techno rushed forward to catch him, carefully holding him in his arms. Dream took another breath, tears falling down his face. “I just want to make you happy,” he whispered. “I want to be good.”

“I’d be happy if you were happy, Dream,” Techno said gently. He didn’t know how his voice was still calm. Dream was hurting himself so that Techno would get mad at him. In some twisted way, he wanted Techno to hurt him, if only to make things his definition of ‘normal.’ Everything about the situation made Techno want to either break something or throw up.

“I’m not supposed to be happy,” Dream sobbed. “I’m supposed to make you happy, but every time you look at me you get sad, and I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.” His breaths were shallow and uneven, pupils horribly wide, and his hands were clenched in the front of Techno’s shirt, a display of closeness he’d never shown him before. He was still shaking, and Techno worried he might be going into shock. He could feel Dream’s heartbeat against his chest, far too fast.

“And I’m sorry,” Dream all but wailed. “I’m sorry, I am, but I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, I—I’m trying, I’ve done everything you asked but you’re never happy because I can’t do it good enough, and it’s my fault, I know it’s my fault, because you want me to be a person but I can’t and I don’t know how!” His breath caught again, and he dissolved into sobs, crying into the front of Techno’s shirt. Techno rubbed a hand along his back, trying to comfort him, unsure of how. He wasn’t good with emotions, he didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to help Dream feel better, not when Dream was telling him he didn’t know how to be a person.

“It’s alright,” Techno whispered. “It’s alright, Dream. You don’t have to be anything right now, okay? Just sit here, it’s alright. No one’s upset with you. We can… we can work this out, alright? I can help you. I promise.”

Dream just kept crying.

Chapter Text

It was evening.

Dream hesitated in the doorway, one hand rubbing over the bandages on his forearm. He hadn’t seen Techno in a while. Not since that morning, when Dream had—well, he’d failed. Technoblade hadn’t gotten upset with him—at least, not in the sense that he would hurt him. He had just gotten… upset. Which had made Dream feel even worse about everything. 

Techno had bandaged Dream’s arm and let him cry himself out and settled him in his bed and promised it would get better—and then he was gone. Only pausing to tell Dream not to do it again.

It was hours later now, and he stood hovering in the door to Techno’s living room, trying to figure out how to tell him what he needed to. Techno was sure to be happy about it, right? It was Dream choosing something, which Techno wanted, and it would make Dream get better, which Techno also wanted. Therefore, this was a good choice.

So why was he still so nervous?

Maybe Technoblade was going to punish him after all. For hurting himself earlier. It wasn’t like it was the first time that Dream had done it, it had just… been a while. He hadn’t done it here before. Sir didn’t like it when he did it, either. He said that Dream didn’t have the right to choose what happened to his body. Technoblade said otherwise. But he also wouldn’t let Dream hurt himself, so was there really a difference?

(Yes. Yes, there was.)

Dream took a deep breath, and stepped into the living room. The only light came from the low fireplace, the sunset barely visible through the darkening windows. Techno raised his head. He’d been hunched over in his chair by the fire, with—oh. Philza was there too, pacing by the hearth. Dream hadn’t seen him until just then, and the sight made his chest clench. Maybe Philza was going to punish him instead. Dream had wanted that. He had wanted that, he’d wanted things to be normal again, but… he had a better plan now. One that was sure to make Techno happy, right? He’d been thinking about it all day, ever since Techno had left him in his room. And before, too. Hadn’t this always been somewhere in his mind?

“Hey, man,” Techno said, and his voice was low, rough. Had he been crying? Dream really, really hoped he hadn’t made him cry. “You doin’ okay?”

“Yes,” Dream said. He was still picking at the bandages on his arm. He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.” He had rehearsed the words in his head, over and over again. It was the only reason he was able to get it all out without stuttering. “And I’m sorry I got upset,” he continued. “I shouldn’t have done that, either.”

“…You’re allowed to feel things, Dream,” Techno said tiredly. “We’ve talked about this.”

“I made you upset,” Dream said, deciding to push past that. “I—I did it on purpose. I’m sorry.”

“I kinda figured,” Techno sighed. “It’s fine, Dream, it’s fine. I get it.”

Over by the fire, Philza was watching them, his wings folding and refolding behind him. Dream tried to keep his attention focused on Techno.

“I—I have something to—to ask you,” he said, and nervousness made his chest tighten. He didn’t ask Techno for things. Not really. Techno wanted him to, so he had tried, he really had, but it felt so instinctually wrong.

“Yeah?” Techno was interested, he was encouraged, he was looking more directly at Dream now. “What is it?”

Dream swallowed. “I—I can’t—“ He broke off, and started over. He’d rehearsed this part, too, but for some reason it was harder to get out. “I haven’t been able to make you happy,” he said. “And—I tried, I really did. But I can’t. I’m sorry. I can’t do what you want me to, and it’s not—“ He took a shuddering breath. “It’s not making you happy, and you want me to be happy, and I can’t d-do that either.” The pain in his chest was distracting, and he clenched his hands in the front of his shirt. “So—so I have to ask you for something. It’s—it’s not hard!” he hurried to add. “And you—you want me to ask for things, you said so, so this—this is what you wanted. I just—I don’t want to make you upset any more.” He was falling apart, fraying at the edges. He needed to get it out already. He took a deep breath. “I want to go back,” he said. “Back to Las Nevadas.”

***

When Dream had said he wanted to ask Techno for something, Techno had really, really hoped that was progress. Dream had come to his senses, he was thinking more clearly, he was asking Techno for things, and that was good!

The absolute last thing he’d expected was for Dream to say so horribly matter-of-factly that he wanted Techno to take him back to the place that had destroyed him. 

Techno was on his feet before he realized he had moved, stepping in front of Dream, who shrank back. “Are you out of your mind?” Techno demanded. “I’m not taking you—back, Dream, what?”

Dream didn’t moved away, but he still flinched back and sounded so awfully small when he asked, “Why—why not? It’s—you won’t have to worry about me, I won’t make you upset anymore, I—“

“Mate, we’re not sending you back to get freaking tortured again, are you insane?” Philza demanded, his wings flaring out. “In what world would that be a good idea for anybody?”

“I—I need to go back,” Dream said, shaky but still determined. “It—it will be good for me, I need it, I can’t be here—“

“Why not?” Techno demanded. “Why can’t you be here, what about here isn’t good for you, that Las Nevadas would be better?”

Philza touched a hand to Techno’s arm, but Techno shook him off.

“No, Phil, don’t, it—Dream, you can’t be serious,” Techno said, raising his voice. Chat was loud in his ears, a cacophony of voices that he couldn’t hear any distinct words in. “After everythin’ that they did, everythin’ that’s happened, how could you even think of going back there?”

“I can’t stay here,” Dream said. He was getting quieter the louder Techno got, shrinking back against the doorframe. “I—I want this, Techno, please.” He was holding onto the edge of the door now, eyes wide and wet as Techno towered over him. “You—you said I could choose,” Dream whispered. “You said I could.”

All at once, Techno deflated. All the rage drained out of him. He took a step back, regretting his outburst even more when Dream relaxed slightly as he moved back. Dream was shaking, his hands trembling badly. His gaze dropped to the floor.

“You… you really want this,” Techno said.

Dream nodded.

“They tortured you, Dream,” Techno said flatly. “They tortured you, they hurt you, they manipulated you. Why… why would you go back?”

Dream looked up. His eyes were red, his lip trembling. “I—I don’t know how to do anything else,” he whispered.

“I can help you, Dream,” Techno said, his desperation growing. How had it come to this? What had he done wrong? “I—I can help you do somethin’ else. We can try somethin’ different. It’ll be alright, you don’t have to go back to—that.”

“You tried.” Dream swiped a hand over his eyes, before looking right at Techno again. His face was anguished. “I tried. I can’t. I can’t do it. I’m sorry.”

“You can try again, mate,” Phil said from behind Techno. His voice was low. “You don’t have to—give up on living. Not like this. Don’t do this, Dream. Please.” His voice broke.

“I’m just making you upset,” Dream said, barely audible. He raised a shaking hand to his neck, to the marks of the collar that refused to fade, and then dropped it. “All I’m doing is making you both upset. You—you keep thinking I am someone, but—I’m not. I don’t know who you knew before. I don’t—I don’t know who Dream is. I d-don’t remember. You want it to be me, but I can’t—“ He fumbled, taking a shaky breath. “I can’t.”

“I can’t let you do this, Dream,” Techno said. Pleaded. “I can’t let you go back there.”

“Are you not going to let me leave?” Dream asked. His voice was wet. “Am I—yours, still?”

Silence.

Techno took half a step back.

It wasn’t asked with malice, he realized. Dream wasn’t trying to manipulate him, wasn’t trying to twist Techno’s words to get what he wanted. He just… he still thought Techno owned him. He wanted to leave—or, he thought he did. But he wouldn’t. Techno knew Dream wouldn’t leave. Not if he told him not to.

And that was when Techno knew he had to let him go.

He couldn’t keep Dream here against his will. Not after it had been over a month, not after he’d tried everything he could to help him, not after Dream was literally begging him to let him leave. He couldn’t force Dream to stay. He couldn’t force him to do anything. It went against everything he stood for.

If he forced Dream to stay against his will, was he any better than Quackity?

Part of him wanted to say yes. Yes, he was better than Quackity. He didn’t hurt Dream, he didn’t manipulate him, he didn’t abuse him. But Dream was hurting himself here. Hurting himself to try and get Techno to get upset with him. Hurting himself by remaining convinced that he was inherently worth less than them. He still—after all this time—didn’t believe he was a person.

Techno couldn’t convince Dream he was a person if Dream refused to believe it himself.

“You… you really think you’ll be happier there?” Techno asked quietly.

“I’m not supposed to be happy,” Dream whispered. “But you’ll be happy. And I’ll be better. I need to go back.”

“I won’t be happier, Dream. You goin’ back will not make me happy.”

Dream dropped his gaze. “Then… I still can’t make you happy,” he said. “I’m sorry. I—I still can’t stay here. I’m sorry.”

“This is what you want.”

Dream nodded. He still didn’t look at Techno.

“I can’t make you stay here,” Techno said.

“Techno!” Phil said sharply.

“I can’t force him, Phil,” Techno said quietly. Chat was murmuring in his head again, some agreeing, some disagreeing. Some, as always, calling for blood. “I can’t force him. I can’t be like—them.”

“It’s nothing like that,” Phil said indignantly. “You’re—helping him, Techno, it’s not—“

“Am I?” Techno’s eyes didn’t leave Dream, hunched up against the doorframe, swaying on his feet, blood starting to seep through the bandage on his arm. “I don’ think I am, Phil.”

“So you’re just going to give up?” Phil demanded. He stepped in front of Techno, spreading his wings slightly. “You’re going to send him back to that? Is that it?”

“I can’t force him, Philza!” Techno shouted, turning on him. “I can’t force him to stay here, alright? I can’t do that. I can’t get in the way of people choosin’ things, it’s—“ He exhaled sharply, turning away from Phil. “It goes against everything I stand for, Phil. I can’t force him to stay here.”

Phil’s wings dropped. “It’s not good for him. It really, really won’t be good for him. It’s going to destroy him, Techno.”

“I know that, Phil. I know, alright? But I can’t force him to choose things. And he’s—he’s right there, Phil, alright? He’s right here.” Techno gestured weakly at him. “Dream. Listen. Look at me.” Dream’s head snapped up to look directly at him, and Techno swallowed down his nausea. “I’m not gonna force you to stay here,” he said. “I just—it’s your choice, alright? It’s a bad idea. It’s such a bad idea. But it’s your choice.”

Dream nodded. “I—I know,” he said. “I’m sorry. I’m—being bad. I’m being bad.” He ducked his head. “I just—I can’t.”

“So you’re leavin.’”

Dream nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“When?”

Hesitantly, Dream looked up at him. “…Now?” he asked. “It’s—I can’t—stay here. If it’s just… you’re upset. I’m making it worse.”

“Can you at least wait until mornin’?” Techno asked. “Please?”

Dream glanced at the window, at the door, at Techno. “Yes,” he whispered. “I—I’ll wait. If you want me to.”

Techno briefly closed his eyes. They were burning. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah. I want you to.”

Chapter Text

The day Dream left was dreary.

It was cold and wet, snow gathering on the rooftops, the eaves dripping into puddles below.

Dream stood just at the edge of the fenced yard, wrapped in a dark green cloak, Techno and Phil just a few feet away from him. Phil’s wings were drawn up against his back, and Techno’s arms were crossed tightly across his chest. Neither of them were happy. Honestly, Dream didn’t look terribly happy either, but then again—he never really looked happy.

Techno hadn’t been able to talk him out of leaving. Not that he hadn’t tried. He’d suggested alternatives, and other ideas, and maybe contacting some of Dream’s old friends, and whatever else he could think of—but the more Techno had tried to convince him to stay, the most nervous and closed-off Dream had become. It was clear that Dream thought that going back to Las Nevadas was the best option for both him and Techno. And yes, Techno could make him stay. He could order Dream to remain in the arctic, and he knew that Dream would obey him. 

But he also knew he couldn’t do that. If he tried to force Dream into staying, then it would only cement Dream’s belief that he wasn’t able to make his own choices. Even if his choices were absolutely terrible, and were going to get him killed or worse—could Techno really take that from him? Like Quackity had?

He couldn’t do it. However much it hurt him to let Dream leave, however much it would hurt Dream, he couldn’t force him to stay. It went against everything he stood for. He hadn’t been able to stop Tommy from returning to L’Manburg even after his exile. He hadn’t been able to convince Ranboo to leave alone the ticking time bomb that was Snowchester. He couldn’t stop people from making terrible decisions. Just try to talk them out of it, and try to be there for them after it all went wrong.

Which led them to standing out in the chilly dawn, with Dream about to walk off and leave them.

“You don’t have to leave,” Techno said. It wasn’t the first time he had said it. “It’s not gonna make Phil an’ I happy. It’s not gonna make you happy.”

“Please, Dream,” Phil said. “Reconsider.”

Dream hesitated. He drew the cloak tighter around himself. Even that had been hard for Techno to talk him into accepting. He wouldn’t take a communicator. Resisted the idea of something like a stasis chamber. He had just kept repeating that he wouldn’t come back. “I have to go back,” he said now. “I can’t stay. I can’t.”

“You don’t have to go, either,” Techno said. “You don’ have to go back to Las Nevadas. There’s—there’s other places you can go, if it’s not workin’ out for you with us.”

“I—I need to be back,” Dream said. “I can’t—he knows how to—I have to go back. I’m—his, he—”

Techno was afraid he knew who the ‘he’ was. He didn’t want to know how Dream was going to finish that sentence. “You can always come back,” Techno said after a long pause. “No matter what else happens, you can always come back. Or just don’ leave, but, y’know.”

Dream drew himself up slightly, straightening his shoulders. He looked right at Techno, with the slightly distant stare that meant his mind wasn’t fully there. “Thank you for your help, s—Techno,” he said. His voice shook slightly. “I—I won’t forget you this time. I promise. I hope—I hope you’ll be happy. I’m sorry I made it worse. I’m sorry I couldn’t—be good.”

Techno swallowed down a lot of what he really wanted to say. “I’ll miss you,” he said roughly. “Just—come back, alright?”

Dream shook his head. “I—I can’t,” he said. “I don’t belong here. I belong there. I’m sorry.” He took half a step back. “Thank you. I’m not coming back. I’m sorry.”

“Please, Dream.” Techno stepped forward, and wrapped his arms around Dream, all but crushing him in his embrace. Dream didn’t return it, but merely stood there, motionless and tense. Techno moved back, keeping a grip on Dream’s arms. “This is a mistake,” Techno said. “You’re a person, Dream. Please stay.”

“I’m not,” Dream said. “I’m sorry. I’m not. I can’t be. I don’t know how. I can’t.” He tried to move away, and Techno let him, releasing his arms. Dream took several steps back. “I’m sorry.”

Dream was at the fence now, standing in the small gap that would let him leave. He stopped, his eyes on Techno. “I’m sorry,” he said. His voice was small. “I—I’m sorry I couldn’t be a person for you, Technoblade.” With that, he turned, and left through the gap in the fence. His pace was stilted and slow, but he didn’t look back.

Techno stood and watched for a long time after Dream had disappeared from view. Long enough that his hands started to go numb, his arms crossed. The voices were raging in his head, mingling with the crying of the wind.

Finally, Philza laid a hand on Techno’s arm. “C’mon,” he whispered. “Let’s go in, alright?”

“He’s gonna die, Phil,” Techno muttered. He put his arms around Phil, hugging the much smaller man tightly against his chest. Phil hugged him back, resting his head on Techno’s torso. “They’re gonna kill him. Or make it worse. He’s not…. What did I do wrong, Phil?”

“It’s not your fault,” Phil said, his voice slightly muffled. “It was his choice, mate. You said so yourself. You did everything you could.” He sighed, shifting his wings under Techno’s grip. 

“Maybe we’ll kill ‘em,” Techno said. “Quackity and Sam. Bring down Las Nevadas. I dunno. I know after the last one I said no more Doomsdays, but… just a thought. I dunno how Dream will take it, though. Or what they’ll… do to him, if he’s there when we try.”

“It’s not too late to go after him.”

Techno wanted to. He really, really wanted to. But he couldn’t.

Techno shook his head. “…Let’s go in, Phil,” he muttered. “Your wings are gonna get cold.”

He released the avian, taking a step back and looking out into the arctic landscape one last time, where Dream had vanished. Then Techno turned, and trudged back inside.

***

Las Nevadas looked bigger than it had before.

It towered up in front of Dream, the lights shining out bright through the evening darkness, sand blowing across the artificial desert.

Dream looked up at it for a long moment, before slowly moving to unclasp the cloak Techno had given him. He folded it up carefully, and tucked it underneath a small, scraggly bush at the edge of the desert. He wished Techno hadn’t given it to him. He’d given him enough, down to the clothes on his back, and he had no way to repay it. At least he could avoid dirtying it, now that it was safely under this bush. Even if he couldn’t give it back.

He stepped back, and turned again towards the city. Something was fluttering in his chest. Nerves, relief, excitement, worry? He had to remind himself it didn’t matter. He didn’t need to feel things anymore.

He’d spent all day traveling across the SMP to get here, and he felt drained, exhausted. His hands were shaking, and he felt lightheaded. He wanted to go to sleep—but he wasn’t supposed to want things anymore, either. His mind went back to Techno’s cabin, to the small bedroom with the bed that was his—and reminded himself that he didn’t belong there. Didn't belong to Techno.

He was back where he belonged now.

Dream found himself outside one of the back doors of the casino without being quite sure how he wound up there. His feet had walked this worn path dozens—hundreds—of times, and it was habit more than anything else. He raised a shaking hand to the door, then hesitated.

This was it. There was no going back. But he didn’t want to go back. He’d told Techno he wasn’t going back. This was where he belonged. This was where he had always belonged. Why try and kid himself into thinking any differently?

Dream briefly closed his eyes, and knocked on the door. The sound felt loud in the dim, quiet back area of the casino.

He stood still and waited. Hands behind his back like he was on patrol.

It was a while before anyone came.

He heard footsteps on the other side of the door, light and purposeful, and he knew who they belonged to. His chest clenched. He was happy, right? He was happy. This was what he wanted. This was where he belonged.

The door opened, and, oh, there was his owner. Sir stood in the doorway, his eyes widening when he saw Dream. His shirt was rumpled, worn. He looked tired, and was that Dream’s fault? He hadn’t been there for him. He had to fix that.

“S-sir,” Dream said. He took a breath. “I’m—sorry it took me so long. But I—I came back to you, Sir.” Why were his hands shaking so badly? He was back. He was back where he was supposed to be.

“So you have,” Sir said slowly. “So you have. You came back all on your own, huh?”

Dream nodded. “Yes, Sir.” Then, because he felt the need to say it aloud, to have Sir agree with him— “I belong to you.”

Slowly, a grin spread across Sir’s face, cut in half by his jagged scar. “That’s right,” he said, laughing. “That’s right. You really do.” He was still smiling when he said, “Good boy.” And, oh, there it was. That was what he had been missing. There was none of the sad hesitance that Techno had, none of the quiet resignation from Phil. Sir was happy with him, Dream did good. He felt dizzy with relief. (There was no warmth, either. There was no warmth in Sir’s gaze, not like how there had been in Techno’s, but Dream didn’t need warmth. He didn’t deserve it.)

“Come,” Sir instructed, gesturing into the hall. “Lets see what we’re working with, yeah?”

“Yes, Sir,” Dream said, and followed his owner back into Las Nevadas.

***

Sir led him to one of his old training rooms. A low-ceiling, brightly lit basement room that Dream hadn’t seen in a long time. He stood in the doorway, waiting.

“Sit,” Sir ordered, gesturing at a spot near the middle of the room. Without a word, Dream hurried over to him, and dropped down onto his knees. He kept his back straight, looking straight ahead, hands in his lap. They were still shaking.

Sir crouched down in front of him, taking his chin in his hand, and tilting his head. “You look different,” he said slowly. “Where where you?”

“I was with Technoblade, Sir,” Dream said. He didn’t resist Sir’s grip.

Sir hummed under his breath. He tilted Dream’s head back uncomfortably far, examining his neck. “You’re not wearing your collar,” he said.

“I—I lost it, Sir,” Dream said, and he couldn’t remember what had happened to it. He didn’t think he’d woken up with it, when he first arrived at Techno’s house. Where was it? He couldn’t be a good dog without a collar. “I’m sorry.”

“You know what?” Sir said, pulling Dream’s head back down to look directly at him. “That’s alright, prisoner. That’s alright. Because you’ve been so good and come back home to me, I’ll get you a new one. I’m not gonna punish you for losing it.”

Relief flooded over Dream. Good, that was good. He was being good. He was getting his collar back. Sir wasn’t upset with him for losing it. Things were finally back how they should be. Why were his hands still shaking?

Sir released him, straightening and taking a step back. He crossed his arms, tilting his head at Dream. “I’ve missed you, y’know?” he said. “My little mutt. I tried to come get you. Couldn’t risk Technoblade, though, not when I wasn’t sure if you’d still be there.” His narrowed gaze pinned Dream in place.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” he said, shame making his chest feel tight and hot. “I—I should have come back sooner, Sir.”

“Yeah,” Sir agreed. “You should have. We’ll have a chat about that one later.” He opened up his inventory, and withdrew something from it. “I’ve hung onto this,” he said, raising a thick leather collar. “Sam didn’t think you’d come back, but—well, I knew better.” He bent down again, and Dream tipped his head back, allowing Sir to secure the collar around his neck. He was so, so lucky. Sir was giving him his collar back, and it wasn’t even a shock collar. He was being so kind to him (wasn’t he?). It felt tight across his neck, just barely restricting his breathing. Just how it should. His heart was beating fast in his chest when Sir smiled down at him. “Just so you don’t forget. Who you do belong to, mutt?”

“You,” Dream breathed. “I belong to you, Sir.”

Chapter Text

Dream was alone.

He had forgotten, almost, just how much he was left alone in Las Nevadas. When he wasn’t doing work, when he wasn’t with his owners, he was alone. It wasn’t his old room, it was somewhere else, but it was very similar. Same blank walls, same single exit, the same empty darkness, and same chains on the floor.

He’d forgotten about that, too.

He wondered dimly what else he’d forgotten. Apparently, he forgot whole people, so who knew?

There weren’t any shackles on his wrists (yet), so the chains were hooked through a loop on his collar, the length forcing him onto his knees.

He’d been there for a long time. His knees ached, pressing into the chilly stone beneath him. His neck ached too, unused to wearing the collar after so long without. He let out a breath.

It was fine, he told himself. Sir was just figuring out what to do with him, since he had been gone for so long. Figuring out how to get him back to work. This was exactly how it had been before. He’d gotten soft after being with Techno for so long. He just needed to get used to it again. This was what he needed. This was how he could be useful, how he could make his owner happy.

Part of him longed for the soft carpet and the softer bed in his room in Techno’s house. But he couldn’t want that. He was making Techno unhappy there, so he’d had to leave. He didn’t regret it. He didn’t.

It was fine.

The door opened, and Dream bowed his head, squeezing his eyes shut against the sudden, painful burst of light.

Footsteps entered the room, and stopped directly in front of him. Dream kept his head bowed. He could see the tips of shiny black shoes. 

“Look at me,” Sir instructed.

Dream briefly closed his eyes again, trying to shove down the headache pressing against his temples. He hesitated too long.

Sir’s shiny black shoe connected with his collarbone, kicking him back to face him. The short chain jerked Dream’s neck back, and he ended up awkwardly sprawled on his side, his eyes darting up to look at Sir.

“You’ve gotten slow, mutt,” Sir chided. He sighed, tapping a foot on the floor, one arm at his side. Something shiny glinted in his grip. “I’ve been chatting with Sam,” he began, started to walk slowly around Dream. He tried to keep his eyes on him, but Sir snapped, “Sit up. Prime, you’re useless.”

Dream scrambled to get his knees back under him. His collarbone ached where Sir had kicked it, and his shoulder throbbed where he’d hit the floor. He kept his attention on his owner, kneeling in the middle of the dim room.

Sir sighed, sounding annoyed. It was never good when he was annoyed. “As I was saying,” he went on. “Sam and I have been talking, now that you’re back. You’ve been away for so long, I hope you haven’t forgotten your place.”

“I haven’t—“ Dream began, but something shiny and silver flashed across his vision and he was knocked back into the floor. He dimly registered pain in his face, blood dripping down his forehead and into his eyes.

Sir pressed his shoe against Dream’s throat, pushing his head back. “I didn’t tell you to speak,” he said. “You really have forgotten your place.” He pressed his shoe a bit harder into Dream’s throat, and he choked on it. “I’m glad you’re back, I’m glad you’re back, because clearly being away hasn’t been good for you.” He moved his foot back, and Dream gasped for breath. “You really do need me,” Sir told him. He spread his hands, and Dream could see the now-bloody shears in his hand. “You’re going to start listening, right? Answer.”

“Yes, Sir,” Dream gasped.

“Good,” Sir purred. “Good. You have still been bad, though. You let Technoblade take you. You didn’t come back right away. And now you’re not listening. You need to be punished, don’t you agree? It’s only to help you, you know that. Answer.”

“…Yes, Sir.” He wanted this. He reminded himself of it over and over, blinking blood out of his eyes. He wanted this. He needed this. He wasn’t a person, he belonged to Sir, and Sir was punishing him to make him better. It was okay. It was fine. He needed this.

He still couldn’t stop himself from screaming when the shears dug into him.

***

It was a long while later. Dream was curled up on the floor, his collar digging into his throat. Everywhere hurt. He couldn’t think straight. Something was wrong with his ribs where Sir had kicked him, and he couldn’t take a full breath. 

There was a lot of blood. He could feel it all over him, could smell the familiar coppery stench. Sir had been very unhappy with him, he realized.

As he should be. Dream had messed up. He’d let Technoblade take him, and then he’d stayed there. He hadn’t realized he was supposed to have come back all on his own, but apparently he was. 

He wished he was back with Technoblade. Selfishly, awfully. He wasn’t supposed to want things. Especially when it made Techno unhappy, and even more especially when it made Sir unhappy.

He didn’t wish he was back with Technoblade. All he wanted was to be good for Sir. And this was helping him. This was good for him. It was what he needed. This was normal.

(This wasn’t normal. He didn’t want this. He wanted to be away from here and never come back and never think and never feel anything ever again—)

Dream could feel the collar digging into his throat, cutting off his airway, and that combined with his broken ribs made his anxiety spike when he could barely get any air. His breaths were speeding up, and he gasped into the blood-splattered floor, trying to breathe.

It wasn’t long before he passed out. 

***

Dream woke up with the Warden tipping a potion down his throat. He almost choked on it, but managed to swallow it down, some dripping out the side of his mouth. It tasted awful, the sickly sweet liquid reminding him of his worst, foggiest days in Pandora. 

“You shouldn’t make Quackity so upset,” the Warden intoned. He was holding Dream up with one arm under his shoulders, using the other to pour the healing potion into his mouth. He could feel injuries slowing healing over with an awful, painful tingling. “You know you shouldn’t have left.”

The potion was drawn away, and Dream swallowed the last of it, fighting down his nausea with difficultly. The Warden set the empty bottle down and grabbed Dream by the jaw, causing pain to shoot through it, and forcing him to look directly at him. His eyes were narrowed above the mask he wore, steam rising rising from it. “Why did you leave?” he growled. “You know you shouldn’t have, so why did you?”

Dream struggled to get a hand underneath him, holding himself upright now that the Warden had moved his arm. “I’m—sorry,” he said. “I—they took me, Warden, I didn’t want to—“

“Don’t make excuses,” the Warden snapped. “You know you belong here, you know you belong to us, and you know you weren’t supposed to leave.”

“I’m sorry,” Dream repeated. It was hard to talk around the hand gripping his jaw with painful tightness. “It won’t happen again, Warden.”

“It won’t,” his Warden agreed. He tilted his head, studying Dream closely. The chain affixed to his collar clinked together. “Why didn’t you come back sooner?”

Dream didn’t respond for a moment, trying to find the words. He couldn’t think clearly. All his reasons seemed so feeble now. “I thought… I thought they owned me,” he said.

The Warden released him with disgust, and Dream barely caught himself. “You’re not supposed to think,” he snapped. “You’re supposed to follow orders. You belong to me and Quackity, prisoner. And that is all. Don’t leave again. Understand?”

“Yes, Warden,” Dream said weakly. He kept his head bowed until the Warden was gone.

***

Sir came back later. He left the door open with light streaming in, and bent down to unhook the chain securing him to the floor. “Sam came by, right?” he asked. Dream nodded, not trusting if he was supposed to speak. “Good, good, that’s good. I hope you’ve learned your lesson.” Again, Dream nodded. His neck still ached. All of him ached, actually. 

“Good boy,” Sir said, and Dream let out a shaky breath of relief. Even with the pain still throbbing through his body, those words never failed to make everything seem alright, make everything seem worth it, if only for the briefest moment. “I have something for you,” Sir went on. “To help you remember. Stand up and follow me.” He pocketed the key on his way out, and Dream hurried to force himself to his feet and fall into step after him. 

The healing potion had done its work. He still hurt, sure, but it was bearable now. Manageable. He had messed up, he had been punished, he had been taught his lesson, and now he would learn. That’s how it worked. That’s how it always had to work. Or else how would he learn? Techno was evidence enough of that. He had tried to teach Dream to be a person without beating it into him, and how had that worked out? All Techno had done was speak to him kindly and touch him gently and tell him it would be okay and—Dream didn’t need that. He didn’t want it, either. This was what he needed. 

This was all he needed.

He followed Sir through the casino basement, down halls he’d walked countless times before. He knew better than to ask where they were going. He only needed to know what Sir told him. He ignored the memories of how Techno would always tell him what he was doing. Would ask for his preference. Check if he was okay. Dream didn’t need that. Techno didn’t, either. He would be happier now, not having to worry about Dream anymore (right?).

Lost in his thoughts, Dream almost ran right into Sir when he halted in a small side room. He stopped himself just in time, mentally berating himself. He couldn’t do that, he couldn’t do that. He had to stay present, he couldn’t drift off. Sir hated it when he did that. (Techno didn’t seem to mind. At least, not in the way Sir did.)

“Give me your hand,” Sir ordered, turning to face him. Dream held out his left hand, and Sir took it, turning it over to expose his wrist. There, just beneath his palm, was a small, bracketed smile. It had been burned into him so long ago that Dream didn’t remember how or when or why. It was much older than many of his other scars. It couldn’t have been that painful, or surely it would have stood out in his memory. Then again, he knew he couldn’t rely on his memory for much of anything. 

“Sam tells me you thought Technoblade was your owner for a while, and that’s why you took so long to come back,” Sir said. He ran his thumb over the small brand. “Clearly, you haven’t learned your lesson from this.” He tapped it lightly. 

Dream didn’t say anything. He thought he knew where this was going. But he wasn’t supposed to think. And he wasn’t supposed to be afraid, either, but then why was his heart pounding like this?

Sir turned away, rummaging through a chest set into the wall. There was a furnace by it too, sending heat upwards into the casino. What was this room? He could see full tanks of water, along with more chests. A storage room? Maybe in case of emergencies. Or maybe it heated the water for the floors above. He didn’t know why his mind fixated on this when he really should be paying attention to Sir.

Speaking of which—

Dream wrenched his attention back to his owner. He was still speaking. How had Dream not noticed he was still speaking?

“—makes sense, y’know,” Sir was saying. He pulled something out of the chest, and slid part of it into the furnace. Dream’s chest tightened. “Really does, you agree? Answer.”

“Yes, Sir.” Dream didn’t know what he was agreeing to. His hands were shaking. He didn’t want to be here. He was supposed to be here. He wanted to leave. He wasn’t supposed to want things. He didn’t care. He needed to be good. He needed to stay. He wanted to run and run and run and never stop.

He didn’t move.

Sir sighed dramatically, leaning back against the chest. “I dunno why I bother telling you things,” he said. “It’s not like you listen. Or care. There’s really not a single functional thought left in your head, is there?”

Dream didn’t answer. He thought Sir was right. He didn’t know what he was thinking. He couldn’t make sense of his thoughts, chasing each other around his head. People thought things. He wasn’t a person. Technoblade thought he was a person. But Sir said he wasn’t. So Dream didn’t think he was. But hadn’t Techno known him before Sir had? Techno had said so, at least. He’d said they were friends, right? Dream couldn’t remember what else he’d said. He thought he wanted to.

He thought maybe he wanted to be friends again.

But only people had friends.

And he wasn’t a person. Was he?

Maybe he wanted to be.

But if he had, then why had he left?

Sir was talking again. Maybe he’d never stopped. He turned back to the furnace, and pulled a thick metal rod out of it. “Sit,” he ordered, and Dream dropped to his knees without any conscious thought. His knees still hurt. All of him still hurt. He missed not hurting. But he had been the one to come back to this. And he wasn’t supposed to miss things. He did anyway.

Sir was in front of him now, directly in front of him. Tilting Dream’s head up with one hand. He was still talking. Nothing felt real. He didn’t know what was being said. He didn’t want to be here.

He had chosen to be here.

Dream made an effort to pull his mind back together, at least enough to comprehend what Sir was saying.

“—but you’re not going to forget, right?” Sir asked. He had Dream’s jaw gripped in one hand, and he held the short iron rod in the other. One end of it was heated red, and there was something at the end of it. He knew what that was. He’d seen it before. The only thing he could feel was dread.

“Please don’t,” Dream whispered before he could stop himself. “Please don't.” He didn’t want this, he didn’t want this, he didn’t want this—

Sir clucked his tongue disapprovingly. “I didn’t tell you to speak now, did I?” He moved the heated metal closer, and Dream could feel it on his face. He tried to still his breathing, afraid that any motion would bring pain. “You’re forgetting what you are, and that’s why you need this.” He tilted his head slightly. Dream’s eyes darted back and forth, searching desperately for any escape. He raised his hands slightly, then dropped them. “So you never,” Sir said slowly, “forget that you belong—to—me.”

He pressed the brand into Dream’s cheek, just below his right eye, and Dream screamed.

Chapter Text

Sir didn’t give Dream a potion for the brand on his face, and the pain of it didn’t allow him to rest at all. Sir had wanted to put Dream back in iron armor and immediately set him on a patrol around the casino, but despite his ordering and ‘motivating’ Dream to move, Dream couldn’t make his body cooperate. His limbs refused to function, and he couldn’t seem to stop sobbing. Part of him thought he shouldn’t be this much of a wreck over one small burn—it wasn’t the most painful thing he’d endured by far—but it went a lot deeper than that.

He’d been scarred by Sir before, he’d been branded by him before, but this was different. This wasn’t something he could hide, this was glaringly on his face for anyone to see who he belonged to. The mark of his owner.

Lying curled up on the floor of his room, his hands cupped around the burning agony on his cheek, arms stinging from the pain of Sir’s most recent disappointment, Dream thought that Techno wouldn’t have done that. He thought that maybe he’d rather he belonged to Techno. But Techno didn’t want to own him, and he belonged to Sir. The mark on his face was evidence enough of that.

But maybe if he was disappointing enough, Sir wouldn’t want him anymore? And he would have to leave? Or maybe Sir would just kill him. 

Why was he even considering it? He belonged to Sir, and he wasn’t supposed to want anything else.

He wanted it anyway.

Dream supposed he was a bad dog after all.

Maybe he’d make a better person. Techno had seemed to think so. Sometimes he’d almost made Dream start to believe it. He’d made him believe ‘Dream’ was his name, anyway. And he was being a very bad dog. Which maybe meant he was being sort of an okay person?

But maybe he just needed to be in Las Nevadas longer. Then he would learn how to be a better dog again. But… he didn’t want to do that. Or. He did. But he didn’t. He couldn’t go through all that, not again.

His head hurt.

Dream’s cheek throbbed with pain, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the darkness. He tried to shift into a position that was at all more comfortable, the chain affixed to his collar clinking.

If he wasn’t in Las Nevadas, he couldn’t make Sir happy, he couldn’t see the crooked half-smile he got when he was pleased, the way he told Dream “good boy” and patted him on the head if he was especially well-behaved. His chest ached. He already missed that. He already wanted it back.

Maybe, if he was a good enough person, then he could get it from Techno? Techno… already kind of gave it to him, he was just always kind of sad when he did it. But if Dream was an especially good person, maybe he could make Techno happier?

He’d never really tried to be a person before. Not seriously, at least. Choosing things and wanting things and whatever else people did. But he was already wanting things—he was wanting to leave. It would probably be better for him if he did. And better for Sir, because he wouldn’t have to put up with Dream being a disappointment anymore. And maybe better for Techno, because he hadn’t wanted him to leave, had he?

Dream wasn’t a person. Not a very good one, at least. But maybe… maybe he didn’t have to be good at it? Maybe he could just be… sort of a person. Would Techno be okay with that? Dream couldn’t be a whole, actual person, but he could sort of be one. He could be okay at it.

But would Techno even take him back?

Dream balked at the thought. He didn’t know what he would do if Techno didn’t want him. Because if he left Sir a second time, there would be no coming back. He wouldn’t be able to return to Las Nevadas. Sir wouldn’t accept any excuses he had. He knew what Sir would tell him to do if he left again and then tried to come back. If Techno didn’t take him back, then what?

He didn’t want to think about it. He wouldn’t think about it. Techno hadn’t wanted him to leave, so surely he’d be happy if he came back, right? Right?

Dream squeezed his eyes shut, struggling to bring up his last memories before his departure from the arctic.

“You can always come back. No matter what else happens, you can always come back.”

Yes. That was Technoblade. He said Dream could come back. He said so.

Dream exhaled shakily, digging his fingernails into the palms of his hands. Techno said he could come back. Sir didn’t want him to leave, but Dream was a sort-of person and he could make choices and he wanted to go back to Techno.

The very idea of voluntarily leaving Sir felt viscerally wrong. So, so wrong. Sir had told him not to leave again. The Warden had told him not to leave again.

But Dream was going to leave.

The realization almost knocked the breath out of him. He was leaving. He was leaving. He didn’t know how or when or what would happen, but he wanted to leave. It felt incredibly wrong and very right at the same time.

He was leaving.

But how?

He would need to plan it out. He wasn’t good at thinking, wasn’t good at planning. Part of him thought maybe he used to be.

But he was leaving. He wanted to. He wanted to try being a person. If that didn’t work out…. Dream decided not to think that far ahead. This was just like his training before. He hadn’t known if he would be a good guard dog, but Sir thought he would. And now he didn’t know if he would be a good person, but Techno thought he would. Dream thought maybe he could, too.

That was enough of a start.

Now he just needed to figure out how to leave.

Before he couldn’t.

***

It was a day later that Dream finally had a chance to leave Las Nevadas.

He was on patrol. His first since he’d been back, since Techno had taken him. A ‘test run,’ Sir had called it, and he had told Dream not to mess up. There wasn’t anyone watching him, he didn’t think. Sir didn’t trust cameras. And he didn’t think Dream would leave again.

He was in armor that felt too heavy and walking paths that felt too familiar. The helmet covered his face just enough so that the edge of the brand was visible, and Dream wondered if it had been planned that way. The collar around his neck—still leather, because he hadn’t tried to take it off, hadn’t tried to leave yet—felt tight.

He had been walking for hours now, around and around the casino grounds, and then there was an open gate in front of him. Maybe a guest had left it open, maybe Sir had, who knew—but it was open. It was open and it led out into the false desert. He could see the ridge that marked the edge of Las Nevadas. 

And there was nothing stopping him from leaving. 

Dream stood and looked at it for a long time. Thoughts were racing through his head, none of them fully coherent.

Then he turned, and continued on his patrol.

He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t do this, he couldn’t do this.

The gate was closed when he next came around.

***

It was two days after that when Dream had another chance to leave.

Some kind of shipment had arrived for Las Nevadas, boxes stacked by the entrance. It was midday, a time not that busy for the casino, and there were no guests around. Dream lifted a box, arms shaking with the effort, and paused, looking past the small pile down the wide path that led into Las Nevadas. And led out of it.

Whoever had left the packages was long gone. There were no guests arriving or leaving. Sir had been in his office, Dream standing dutifully by his desk for hours, before he told him to go bring in the shipment. His owner was still inside. His window didn’t face this direction. He wouldn’t know Dream had gone until he got annoyed enough that he hadn’t brought the boxes in yet.

Dream couldn’t let disobeying a direct order be the last thing he did before he left.

He slowly turned, his arms aching from holding the box, and started back towards the casino. The mark on his face burned when his tears hit it.

***

It was about a week after Dream had returned to Las Nevadas. He was pretty sure. His measurement of time was as bad as his memory, but at least this time he had been trying to count the days. He wasn’t sure why the thing he’d latched on to was that it had been seven days since anyone had called him by his name. Except that it seemed important. He repeated it to himself sometimes, when he was chained to the floor in his room. Just to make sure he didn’t forget it again.

It was sunset. He was standing by one of the side doors of the casino, eyes roving over the surrounding area. His leg hurt. He had messed up earlier that day, had been too slow to respond to Sir, but he didn’t think anything was broken. Probably.

Part of the fence around the casino was being remodeled, any workers gone home for the night. There were piles of stone and neat stacks of wooden planks lying around, and part of the former wall had already been taken down. Dream had been staring at that gap in the fence for a long time. Part of him really, really wanted to go through it. The other part of him, the part that was already in pain and begging not to be in more, was telling him to stay exactly where he was and just be good.

Dream let out a long, slow breath. He shifted his stance slightly, trying to get some weight off his injured leg without being too obvious about it.

Was he really just going to keep standing here? And then keep standing here? And then keep standing there? Until Sir told him to stop?

He would. He knew he would.

But he also didn’t want to. He knew that he could do something else. He could go back to Technoblade. Be in his room with his bed in the warm cabin in the arctic. With Techno. Who hadn’t hurt him. Who wanted him to be a person, and believed that he could be one. Still. He had still believed it, even as Dream was leaving.

Dream wanted that back. He wanted to look at the sun reflecting off the snow and not feel worried that he was supposed to be doing something. He wanted to curl up on his bed and feel tiredness that didn’t come from pain. He wanted to sit at Techno’s table and eat the food that he set in front of Dream and then ate with him. He wanted to be a person. And he couldn’t do that here.

He had to leave. He had to leave.

Dream briefly closed his eyes. Then he pulled off his helmet. He wasn’t taking the armor with him. That was Sir’s. And Dream was already taking something of his by not coming back. He couldn’t take more from him. Sir was going to be so disappointed in him.

He hesitated at the thought, hands stilling over one of the clasps of his armor. Then he shook himself, and kept undoing it with shaking fingers. He was leaving. He was leaving whether or not Sir was happy about it. No one was going to stop him.

He finished taking off the armor, setting it in a careful pile by the door. Then he clenched his hands at his sides, and very slowly, very determinedly walked up to the fence. Then paused. He looked back up at the casino, at the setting sun reflecting off the windows. His heart was pounding in his chest, and his palms felt sweaty. He was being bad. He was being so bad.

But this was what a person would do.

Dream turned from the casino, and walked away.

No one stopped him.

Chapter Text

The journey back towards the arctic seemed longer than when he had left it.

It was close to midnight, the half-full moon almost directly overhead, and Dream had no idea how close he was.

He had finally been forced to stop, little through he wanted to, after the pain in his leg made it buckle and give out twice while he was trying to walk. He sat curled up inside a small crevasse off the side of a stoney cliff, the dark green cloak wrapped around him. He had gone back and retrieved it from under the scraggly bush, very determined to return it to Techno when he got back.

Dream shifted positions, looking out through the dark forest. He hadn’t seen any hostile mobs yet, but he felt far too on-edge to sleep, his heart pounding in his chest. What was he doing. What was he doing? He couldn’t be here. He couldn’t leave. He needed to go back.

He tried to shove himself upright, using the rock face for support, but his leg refused to hold his weight, and he was unable to rise. He tried twice more to force himself to his feet before giving up. He couldn’t seem to steady his breathing, and his eyes felt wet. His whole body was weak, shaky—when had he last eaten? He couldn’t remember. Had Sir given him anything to eat? He didn’t know.

The mark on his face hurt. Dream sank back down, cupping a hand around it. He touched it with shaking fingertips, ignoring the pain as he moved over the raw, slightly raised lines. He hadn’t seen himself in a mirror since it had happened. Come to think of it, he hadn’t ever seen himself in a mirror, had he? At least, not that he remembered. Distorted reflections in half-shaded glass and rippling water and that was it. The realization that he didn’t know what he looked like suddenly bothered him immensely. If he was going to try being a person, he should know what he looked like, right? People knew what they looked like.

He needed to get back to Technoblade’s house.

But not yet. The thought of trying to stand again made him feel faint. He just needed to wait until his head stopped spinning and his leg would hold him, and then he could keep going. He was pretty sure he remembered the way, but, then again, he hadn’t planned on coming back.

Dream curled the cloak tighter around himself, staring out into the barely-visible trees. 

He sat there for a long time before he was able to move again.

***

The air getting colder was Dream’s first sign that he was getting close.

It was near dawn, pink coloring the horizon, and his fingers were numb and stiff, barely able to keep the cloak around him. Had it been this cold when he had left? Had it taken him this long to travel this distance before? He couldn’t remember.

He also couldn’t remember if he was even going the right way. It seemed almost familiar, but a lot of things did.

He paused when the sun was rising, watching it crest a snow-frosted hilltop. His leg still hurt badly enough that he was forced to stop more often than he wanted to. Maybe something was broken after all. He disregarded that. It wasn’t important. The shakiness in his limbs and general lightheadedness also wasn’t important. All that mattered was getting back to Technoblade.

Dream looked back towards where Las Nevadas would be. It was miles and miles away by now, but he still felt like someone was watching him. It wasn’t too late to go back. Maybe they wouldn’t have noticed he was gone yet. He breathed out, and it made a cloud in front of him. He kept walking.

***

Technoblade stared despondently into the fireplace, sunk down into his chair. The logs had burned down to embers a while ago, but he couldn’t be bothered to put another one in. The room was warm enough, anyway, with the evening sunlight streaming in.

He sighed, letting his eyes fall closed. He had felt tired for days, ever since—well, ever since Dream had left. Okay, not entirely true. There were days when he had much more animated phases, ranting at Phil for hours about governments and power corruption and Withers, going through half-baked plans to destroy Las Nevadas, but it all ended the same. Remembering Dream’s shaky determination and the one real choice he’d made since being there and the way Techno couldn’t make himself get in the way of that. The thought of what Quackity would do to Dream if he knew Techno was coming to blow up his precious nation. Then he sank back into lethargy.

Phil came by fairly often, offering support more than trying to pull him out of his apathy, knowing there wasn’t much he could do for it. He wasn’t there now, but he had been earlier. There was still a cup of herbal tea on the side table next to him, long since gone cold.

Techno would be fine. He knew he would be fine, he knew he would eventually get back to his old self. He had done it before. But the knowledge that Dream wouldn’t was what was really hurting him. Techno could go out and be actually happy at some point, but Dream wouldn’t.

He didn’t want to think about it.

It was all he had really been able to think about.

In his mind, he could hear Phil saying, “It’s not your fault, mate,” and Techno still didn’t really believe him. He still clung to the thought that he should have done something more for Dream, helped him better regain his humanity. And yet, he’d failed.

There was a soft knock on the door, and Techno’s ear flicked towards it. Probably Phil again, and honestly, he didn’t mind. He’d rather have Phil here than listen to the voices in his head murmuring back and forth without rest.

With a groan, he pulled himself to his feet, rubbing a hand over his eyes. Phil didn’t usually knock, but he’d been a bit more careful of Techno’s space over the past few days.

Techno passed the now-empty bedroom on his way to the door, and he paused, looking in it at. The bed was made. He hadn’t touched the room since Dream left. With a sigh, he turned back down the hall.

He pulled open the door, already halfway through greeting Phil when he stopped dead.

Standing on the doorstep was Dream.

Maybe standing was too generous of a word—he was leaning heavily against the railing, favoring one leg. He was visibly shaking, from cold, exhaustion, or both, and there was a glaring red mark on his cheek that hadn’t been there before. He was deathly pale, and his eyes were wide.

Techno had about two seconds of shocked silence to take this in before Dream quite literally collapsed at his feet and started heaving out a garbled mix of sobs and apologies and pleas and words he couldn’t make sense of.

For several seconds, all Techno could do was stare, the voices in his head screaming incoherently, his mind completely blanked out.

Then his brain actually caught up with what was happening, and Dream was literally on the ground in front of him and he was sobbing—

Techno dropped down to his knees in front of Dream, heedless of the snow, taking him by the arms and pulling him up against him, hugging him to his chest. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s okay, you’re okay.” And Technoblade never cried, but with Dream crying into his shirt, he got really, really close. He tightened his grip around him. “You’re okay,” he whispered. “I’ve got you, you’re okay.”

“I’m—sorry,” sobbed Dream. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—“

“It’s okay,” Techno said softly. He rubbed a hand along Dream’s back. “It’s okay, you don’ gotta be sorry, Dream. You’re back; that’s all that matters.”

Dream shuddered, burying his head against Techno’s chest. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice muffled. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Techno said gently. “Let’s get you inside, alright? C’mon.” Techno thought about helping Dream walk inside, but remembering how he’d leaned so heavily against the railing, he decided to just pick him up and carry him. Dream still felt far too light in his arms, but there was something so comforting about being able to hold him again.

He stepped back inside, nudging the door closed with his foot before moving into the living room to settle Dream on the couch near the fireplace. Dream immediately curled in on himself, hunching his shoulders, his hair falling over part of his face.

Techno crouched in front of him, brushing his hair back. The red mark on his cheek, which he hadn’t been able to see clearly before, came into awful, obvious view. It was a brand. A bracketed smile, burned into Dream’s skin. Techno’s chest felt tight. There was another new scar on his face too, a jagged cut across his nose and forehead. Prime, he’d been gone for a week.

Without thinking, Techno raised his hand to the brand, stopping just before touching it. Dream didn’t move. His eyes were wide and red and tear-stained. His breathing was shaky. He was still deathly pale.

“You came back,” Techno said, lowering his hand. “You—you came back.”

Dream took a shaky breath, and let it out. “Yes,” he said. He tensed, curling his hands in his lap. “You—you said I—“ He broke off, swallowing another sob. “You said I could be a person,” he said.

Techno nodded, a pang hitting him. “Yeah,” he said, low. “Yeah, I did say that. I meant it. You are a person.”

“I’m—not really, yet?” Dream shifted on the couch, his eyes darting away before going back to meet Techno’s. “I-I want to be.”

“Then you can,” Techno said. “You’re a person. I—it makes me really happy to hear ya say that, Dream. I’m really—“ his voice broke, and he cleared his throat. “I’m really happy you’re back.” Abruptly, he rose, hurrying over to the crate of logs near the fireplace. Dream had been walking through the arctic for who knew how long—he had to be freezing. Techno tossed another couple of logs into the fire, then grabbed a wool blanket and tucked it around Dream.

“Wait here,” he told him. “I’m gonna grab some stuff, alright?”

Dream nodded, and Techno suddenly realized that there was a thick leather collar circling his throat. How had he not seen it before?

He paused, kneeling in front of Dream and raising his hands slightly. “Do you want me to take this off?” he asked. He wanted to take it off, wanted to rip it off immediately, but he wasn’t going to if Dream didn’t want him to.

Dream lifted a hand to it, and then dropped it. He hesitated, then nodded, tilting his head back.

Techno carefully undid the collar, detaching it from Dream’s bruised, scarred throat. Without a second glance, he tossed it into the fire. Dream’s eyes followed it, not looking away even as Techno rose and, with a promise to be back, hurried off to the kitchen.

Dream needed potions, he needed food, he needed water, and Techno needed to call Phil, too—once it actually sunk in that Dream was here. Techno was half afraid that if he went to go get Phil, Dream would have vanished by the time he came back. Even just leaving him in the living room made him nervous.

When Techno came back in, balancing potions, water bottles, and food, Dream hadn’t moved. His hand was shakily tracing over the brand on his cheek, and anger flared in Techno’s chest. 

“Here,” he said, setting the items aside, careful to keep any negative emotion from entering his voice. “I have a potion, if you want it.”

Dream didn’t respond for a long moment, his hand still raised to his face, looking somewhere past the fire. Finally, he looked back at Techno, some kind of unidentifiable emotion flickering across his exhausted face. “Techno…?”

“Yeah? What’s up, man?”

Dream dropped his gaze again, his hands clenching in front of him. “Can I… stay here?” he asked, his voice low and shaky.

“‘Course you can,” Techno said. “C’mon, you know me better than that. I’d never deny a friend a place to stay.”

Dream looked back up at him so quickly it was almost disconcerting. “Are you—“ he stopped, and started over. “You’re my friend,” he said, almost like a statement, more like a question.

“Yup,” Techno said. It felt too nonchalant for the gravity of the question. “Yeah, we’re friends, Dream. We’re friends.”

“And… I don’t belong to you,” Dream said. “Because I’m a person.” It was still hovering somewhere between a statement and a question, but Techno would take what he could get.

“That’s right.”

“…Okay,” Dream whispered. “I just… I wanted to hear it.” His gaze flickered to the side. “Can I… sleep, Techno?”

“You can do whatever you want,” Techno said gently. “Although it would be nice if you drank a potion or somethin,’ just so I know ya won’t pass out on me. You cool if I like… check any injuries and stuff before you sleep?”

Dream nodded, and accepted the potion from Techno.

The fireplace was burning low and warm beside them.

Chapter Text

Dream was there. Dream was there. He was away from Las Nevadas, away from Quackity, he was back with Techno and he was safe. The relief was almost crushing him.

Techno looked over at Dream, curled up asleep next to him on the couch. He’d passed out soon after accepting a potion and food from Techno, and now his breaths were shaky, uneven. He’d been asleep for nearly an hour, and Techno hadn’t left his side, watching him carefully to make sure he was alright.

Which… he wasn’t. Dream looked worse than he had in a long while. He’d been starting to get color back in his skin, starting to gain weight, and now he looked like he was inches from death again.

Prime, he’d been gone a week.

Techno let out a long breath, carefully settling his hand on Dream’s shoulder. He’d failed Dream the first time. There was no excuse for it. He’d tried to help him see he was a person, that he deserved better than Las Nevadas, and then Dream had walked right back into it. Techno swore he wouldn’t fail again. Not this time.

Dream shuddered, tensing under his touch. He curled up tighter, his hands twitching. A minute later, he relaxed again, some of the tension leaving him. Techno adjusted the blanket that he’d tucked around Dream, pulling it back over him.

Abruptly, there was a quiet knock on the door, and then it creaked open, and Techno’s head snapped up towards it. He narrowed his eyes, thoughts flashing through his head of Quackity, of Sam, of someone else come to take Dream away from him again, before —

“Mate? You still up?”

Philza stepped into the room, before he halted, eyes wide, wings flaring back. “Wh — Techno!” he said sharply. “What —?”

“You’re gonna wake ‘em up, Phil,” Techno said in a low voice. “C’mon, man.” He didn’t move, one hand still on Dream’s shoulder, unwilling to let go.

“You… you got him back?” Phil asked, his tone matching Techno’s.

“He… came back,” Techno said, looking down at Dream. “He came back, Phil.” He looked up at the avian. His eyes were wide, wings slightly extended.

“Just… just like that?” Philza asked. “Are you — mate, you know I’m happy, you know I am — but are you sure someone didn’t… tell him to?” His voice hovered somewhere near relief and worry.

Techno hadn’t thought of that. But no. He shook his head. “I’m sure,” he said. “You didn’t hear ‘em, Phil. This wasn’t someone telling him to. He wanted to come back, I know it. He…” Techno’s voice broke, and he looked down at Dream again. “He said he wanted to be a person. I told ‘em he could.”

“Oh, mate…,” Phil whispered.

There was a pause, Phil still staring at Dream like he couldn’t comprehend him really being there. He moved forward, his hand hovering above Dream, before he drew it back. “Is he alright?” Phil asked quietly. “It’s… Prime, I can’t believe it. Back from the dead, almost, just like….” He trailed off. “Is he okay?”

“He’s… fine,” Techno said slowly. “I mean, he wants to be here, so it’s definitely an improvement over last time, but I don’ think they were… good to him. When he went back there.”

Phil muttered a curse under his breath. “I could kill them. But you’ve given him potions?” he checked. “He’s eaten and everything?”

“Yeah. Passed out pretty much immediately after, but… I think he’ll be okay.” Techno looked down at Dream, curled up under the blanket. “I think he’ll be okay.”

***

Dream awoke with a start, shoving himself to his feet before he was even aware of his surroundings. He was sure he had heard Sir’s voice, sure he was supposed to be up, he was in trouble, he shouldn’t have stayed asleep so long, Prime he was being so bad —

“Woah, hey, you alrigh,’ Dream?”

Dream startled, whipping around, and nearly falling over. He slammed his hand against the wall to steady himself, swiping his free hand over his eyes to try and clear his vision. Techno was on the couch by the fire, looking worried. There was a rumpled blanket beside him. It took Dream several seconds to remember what had happened.

He was back.

He was with Techno. He was fine, he was supposed to be here, he had left Sir and he wasn’t going back. He was a person. A sort of person, at least. He had chosen to come back.

“Techno,” Dream said. He risked glancing around the room, taking it all in, letting reality settle back into place. He started when he noticed Philza standing in the doorway to the kitchen, a steaming mug in his hands, and an odd expression on his face. “Philza. I’m — sorry. Sorry.”

“For what?” Techno asked, and Dream looked back at him. Techno shifted on the couch, like he was about to get up.

“I… I’m sorry,” Dream said again. He wasn’t sure for what. He felt like he was doing something wrong, like he shouldn’t be there. But Techno said he could come back. He had been happy to see him.

“Would you like some tea, Dream?” Phil asked after a moment, shifting to the side a bit, where Dream could still see him. “Just herbal, it might help after being out in the cold for so long.”

Dream glanced between Techno and Phil, hoping for a hint, then focused on the avian when he failed to get one. He shouldn’t take it, right? He wasn’t allowed. Or — no. If Philza offered him something, then he meant it genuinely. Dream was allowed to take it. A person would take it, right? “Yes,” he said, very determinedly not calling Phil ‘sir.’ He carefully took the warm, reddish mug from Philza, holding it gingerly in his shaking hands. He wasn’t sure why he’d half expected Phil to dump the scalding liquid on him instead.

“Careful, it’s a bit hot,” Phil warned. “But it should help once it cools down a bit.”

Dream nodded, glancing back at the couch, at Techno. Slowly, he sank back down onto the cushions by him, taking a small sip of the hot tea. Without even being told to. If Sir were there, he would have punished Dream for that. He would have punished him for speaking without being told, for drinking it without being ordered to, for moving without instructions. But Sir wasn’t there. And Dream was probably a person. And he could do whatever he wanted. Right?

“I’m really glad you’re back, Dream,” Phil said to him, returning from the kitchen with a cup of tea for Techno and himself. He settled himself into the chair by the fire, draping his wings over the back of it. “We… we missed you.”

“…I’m sorry,” Dream mumbled into the cup. “I shouldn’t’ve… left.”

“Ah, it was your choice, mate,” Phil said. “Always your choice. Don’t need to apologize. But… I am happy you’ve decided to come back.” He hesitated, then asked, “Are you doing alright? You can be honest, y’know.”

Dream had to think about it. He felt better than he had before he’d slept. Not as cold. His vision had cleared, and while his leg still hurt, it wasn’t as bad as before taking the healing potion. The brand on his face hurt. All of him still hurt, really. But he always hurt some. He was also away from Sir and the Warden, which felt… both good and awful at the same time. But… he was a person. He couldn’t be a person in Las Nevadas. But he could here with Techno and Phil. It felt… good. Safe. Prime, he had missed this so much. He hadn’t realized just how much until he had left. “I’m… alright,” Dream decided. “I… I’m allowed to be here?” he asked, unsure if he should be speaking at all, but needing to hear it from Phil as well as Techno.

“Of course you are,” Phil said at once, a slight tremor in his voice. “Of course you are, Dream. Always.”

“C’mon, I told ya. Friends,” Techno said, nudging Dream’s shoulder.

Dream nodded. He took another small drink of the tea. It tasted like honey. After a moment, he asked, quickly, before he could change his mind, “Are you mad at me?” He needed to know. Needed to know if either of them were going to punish him, so he could get it over with quickly and then start figuring out how to be a person.

“Nah,” Techno assured him. “Don’ worry. We’re not mad.”

Phil nodded. “It’s alright, Dream. No one’s upset with you.”

“…You’re not going to hurt me,” Dream said, unsure if it was a question or not. Prime, he never would have dared ask this of Sir. Even if he had performed flawlessly, if he had asked this of his owner, then he knew he would have been badly punished for being so disrespectful.

“‘Course not,” Techno said, his voice firm. “You know I’d never hurt ya, Dream. Neither of us would. You’re a person, remember? You’re my friend. I wouldn’t hurt ya.”

Dream didn’t know how to respond to that, so he just nodded again. He drank more tea for something to do, avoiding making eye contact with either of them. They weren’t mad, he told himself firmly. They wouldn’t hurt him. He wasn’t going to be punished. He was a person. He didn’t belong to Sir or the Warden, he didn’t belong to Techno or Phil. He didn’t belong to anyone. He was fine. He was… tired. Prime, he wanted to go back to sleep.

“Dream,” Techno said hesitantly, after a long stretch of silence. Dream immediately looked over at him, lowering the almost-empty mug. “You don’ have to answer if you don’ want to, but… what made you decide to — to come back?”

“You… you said I could,” Dream said. He dropped his gaze. “I wasn’t… being good. For — them. I thought… maybe… I could be a better person?” He hesitated. “I — I missed this. I shouldn’t’ve — but I — I did. I’m sorry. I — I missed this.”

“I’m… I’m glad to hear that, Dream,” Techno said, his voice carefully steady. He slowly put his hand on Dream’s, gently squeezing it before drawing back. And Prime, if that wasn’t the most wonderful thing Dream had felt in a long time. “You are a person. Alright? You can do whatever for you want. And… for the record… I’m glad ya came back here.”

“You said I could,” Dream said again. “I — I remembered.” A thought suddenly occurred to him, and he quickly set the empty mug aside, fumbling with the green cloak he was still wearing, before pulling it off and pushing it at Techno. “This is yours,” he said. “I brought it back. For you. I’m sorry.” He wasn’t sure why it felt so important, but it was Techno’s, and it belonged to him. Even if Dream didn’t.

Techno took the cloak, setting his own mug to the side. “Thank you,” he said, his voice low. “I — I appreciate that, Dream. You’re welcome to keep it, if you’d like.”

Dream shook his head. “It’s yours,” he said. “I — I’m not. But that is. It’s yours.”

Techno nodded slowly. “Alrigh’. Thank you. Seriously. It —“ he cleared his throat. “It means a lot.” He folded the cloak carefully, then asked, “Is there anything I can get for ya? Anything at all?”

Dream hesitated. Techno wanted him to ask for things. He was allowed to ask for things. Techno wasn’t going to hurt him. “Can I… sleep?” He hurried on to add, “I know I just did, I’m sorry, I don’t have to —“

“Of course you can sleep,” Techno said, gently cutting across him. “I still have your room set up and everythin’, if you’d rather sleep there than the couch.”

Relieved, Dream nodded. He followed Techno’s example and rose, leaving the mug on the floor because he really wasn’t sure what to do with it, and didn’t want to ask. Someone would tell him if he were doing something wrong.

Phil gave him a small, sad smile as he went past with Techno, and Dream didn’t know if he should return it or not, so he didn’t, ducking his head. His leg still hurt every time he put weight on it. It would probably go away eventually.

“Hey, is your leg good?” Techno asked in the hall, the concern evident in his tone, glancing over at him. “I know ya weren’t puttin’ weight on it earlier.”

“It’s fine,” Dream said quickly. “It’s not — it’s fine.”

Techno paused, looking fully at him. Dream dropped his gaze, his face warming. “Dream,” he said. “I know you’re ‘fine,’ but are you hurtin’ at all?”

Slowly, Dream nodded.

“What happened?”

“I… don’t remember,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’ gotta be sorry,” Techno said. “Not your fault.”

“I — it was, though?” Dream said hesitantly, wondering if he should be arguing, but feeling like he should make sure Techno understood. “I did something wrong.”

“You don’ deserve to be hurt,” Techno said firmly. “Wasn’ your fault.” He patted Dream gently on the shoulder. “I’ll get ya another healing potion when you wake up, alright? And we can take a look at it, if that’s okay with you?”

Dream nodded mutely, following Techno into the room. His room.

“Here ya go,” Techno said, flipping on the redstone lamp. “Welcome home. Officially, I mean.”

Dream stood just inside the doorway, staring at the room. At his room. With the bed and the blankets and the window and the table with the lamp. He’d missed this. He’d missed this so much.

“Hey, you okay?” Techno asked worriedly, and Dream realized he was crying, silent tears running down his face, stinging on his barely healed scars. “Is your leg hurtin?’”

He rubbed a hand over his eyes, nodding. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry.” He shouldn’t be crying. Sir didn’t like it when he cried, when he was loud and disruptive and needy like this.

“It’s okay. It’s fine, I promise. But are you okay?” Techno gently turned Dream to face him, looking at him intently. “Do you want another potion or something?”

Dream shook his head. “N—no. I’m sorry. I — I just… I missed this.” He swallowed a sob, swiping his hand over his eyes again.

“…I’m glad you’re back,” was all Techno said, and he led Dream over to the bed, letting him under the blankets, dimming the lamp. Asking him if he was alright.

And then asking again once he was at the door, pausing. “Is there anythin’ I can get you?” he added.

Dream opened his mouth, thought better of it, and closed it again. He shook his head. He wasn’t allowed to ask for things, and Techno had already given him so much.

“You know I’m not gonna be upset,” Techno reminded him. “You can ask for anythin’ you want. I don’t mind.”

“Can I —“ Dream hesitated, curling his fingers into the blanket. It felt stupid to ask. It wasn’t necessary in the slightest, he didn’t need this. There was no real reason to want it. He couldn’t meet Techno’s eyes. “It’s not important,” he mumbled, biting back a ‘sir.’ He was a person, he reminded himself. He didn’t need to call Techno ‘sir.’ Techno didn’t like that, anyway.

“Pff, that’s fine. I ask for unimportant stuff all the time,” Techno said. “You’re allowed to want stuff, y’know. Even if you don’t think you need it.”

“Can I — can I have a mirror?” Dream rushed out, before he could change his mind. Exhaustion was making him slow. “If — please, S— if you have one, if you don’t, it’s fine, I’m sorry —“

“Hey, Dream, Dream, it’s fine,” Techno said, cutting him off. “Yeah, I can get you a mirror. It’s no problem. I’d be happy to.” He started to turn into the hall, then paused, looking back at Dream. “If you don’t mind me askin,’ how come?”

Dream glanced up quickly at Techno, then away again. Techno wasn’t Sir, he firmly told himself again. Techno wasn’t going to hit him for asking for things, and he wasn’t going to punish him for answering his question. Even Sir didn’t usually do that — if he asked a question, he wanted Dream to answer. Unless the answer was something he didn’t like. Or if it was a lie. Like when he asked Dream if he belonged to Sir. Which Dream had answered. And told him yes. And then he’d left. He’d lied to him. He’d left Sir. He’d left him. He couldn’t just —

“Dream?” Techno prompted, interrupting his increasingly worried thoughts.

Dream jumped, looking back up at him. “S— Techno. I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I don’t…” He trailed off. The mirror had felt important. He knew it was important, he remembered thinking about it several times while coming back to Techno’s house. “I — I don’t know what I look like,” he said at last.

Techno’s brows twitched together. He looked upset for the briefest moment, before he nodded. “Alrigh.’ Yeah. Okay. I’ll get you a mirror, nerd, don’ you worry.”

He vanished down the hall, his hoofs making a familiar clipping sound against the wood. Dream had missed that. He didn’t realize he had even remembered that.

Dream counted the seconds while he waited, looking around the room again. He had missed this too. This room. Prime, he had missed this. He wasn’t supposed to miss things. He wasn’t — no. Yes. He could miss things. People missed things, right? He was a person. He could miss things.

Did he miss Sir?

The thought occurred to him suddenly.

Yes. No. He… he missed it when Sir was happy with him. But he wouldn’t ever get that again, would he? Wouldn’t hear the smile in his voice, the way he’d tell him ‘good job’ at the end of a long day.

Dream let out a slow breath. He didn’t need Sir. He was a person. He didn’t need Sir. He didn’t need to go back. But did Sir need him? He didn’t think Sir would take him back at this point. But how would he know?

“Here ya go,” Techno’s voice said, and Dream jumped, looking back over at the door. Techno was by his bed again, holding out a small, gold-rimmed mirror.

Dream didn’t take it. He looked up at Techno, then back at the mirror.

“…You can take it, y’know,” Techno said after a few moments, his voice gentle.

Dream reached out, wishing his hands would stop shaking, and took the mirror. He carefully tilted it up, and, fully, for the first time that he could remember, he saw himself.

He looked different than he thought he would.

Dream didn’t know what he had been expecting, really. Sir said he wasn’t a person, and the Warden said the same, and he thought… he’d look less like one. But he looked rather like Sir did, really. Like the guests that came to the casino. Two eyes, a nose, a mouth. He looked like a person.

There were a lot of scars. He had known there would be, of course. It wasn’t like he didn’t see the ones on his hands, his arms, on all of him. Staring at his reflection, he tried not to look at the brand under his eye. He didn’t want to think about that one yet.

He slowly traced a finger along a thin cut over his jawline. He thought he remembered getting that one. From a small diamond knife that Sir usually kept on him. He didn’t remember doing anything particularly wrong that day. Maybe Sir was just upset with him. Or upset with someone else. Dream remembered the pain, though. Remembered standing there by Sir’s desk for hours longer while blood dripped down his neck. Remembered the Warden being annoyed with him over the blood staining his shirt that night.

Dream tilted the mirror, staring at the round burns scattered down his neck. He remembered those, too. Sir smoked a lot. Taking long drags of his cigarettes, talking, always talking, and then putting them out on Dream’s skin, smoke curling up around them. Dream had breathed in a lot of that smoke while being there — in his cell in Pandora, in Sir’s office, in his room in the casino basement. He didn’t think he liked the smell of it. It reminded him of Sir. Which was… not good, was it? He wasn’t supposed to miss Sir.

Dream let out a slow breath. He didn’t remember all of his scars. There were too many of them, too many days and weeks and months of pain all blurring together. But knowing that he could remember some of them made him feel…. He hesitated on the word for a moment. Relieved. That was it. Relieved that he could remember something, had some proof that those things had happened, when he could remember so little else.

He looked up at Techno, who was watching him carefully, his worry clear in the way he was standing, the way he was slightly tilting his head while looking at him. “Do you — do you know how…” Dream trailed off. His grip tightened on the mirror. “Do you know how I… got any of these? The scars?”

If Techno had known him before, he might know, right? Unless Dream had gotten all of them from Sir. And the Warden. Who didn’t punish him as often as Sir did, but who certainly wasn’t afraid to. He didn’t often use blades for it, like Sir did. Just… sometimes hit him. With his hand, or whatever he happened to be holding at the time. Or kicked him. Or grabbed him by his hand or his arm or his neck, dragging him against the wall to restrain him. No, the Warden didn’t punish him as often as Sir did. Not really. He was usually the one who stitched Dream back together again.

Dream registered that he wasn’t paying attention to Techno anymore. Who had definitely been speaking. Prime, he was so tired, but that was no excuse, he needed to pay better attention.

“I’m — sorry,” Dream said, interrupting him, which was rude, it was rude, he shouldn’t be speaking at all — but he was a person, and he was allowed to talk, and it was fine. Techno wasn’t going to hurt him. “I didn’t… what? I’m sorry.”

“I was just sayin’ I never really… saw your face much before,” Techno said. He didn’t sound angry, which helped some with the fear clenched in Dream’s chest. “You wore a mask most of the time. I’m sorry. Wish I could help more.”

“It’s fine,” Dream said quickly. “It’s fine. I just — I don’t remember them all. I don’t know. I don’t know. I’m sorry. I….” He dropped his gaze, staring down at the mirror. Unsure if Techno wanted it back, he carefully set it on the table beside the bed, before asking cautiously, “Can I — sleep?”

“You can do whatever you want,” Techno said, and he sounded sad when he said it. “Alright? You’re a person, remember, Dream?”

Dream nodded. “I’m a person,” he repeated. “…Thank you, Techno. Thank you.”

Techno hesitated, like he was about to say something, then shook his head. “You’re welcome,” he said roughly. “Don’t gotta thank me, but you’re welcome, Dream.” With that, he backed out of the room, easing the door almost closed behind him. A small sliver of warm firelight was still visible, and Dream watched that light until he fell asleep.

Chapter Text

The Dream that came back from Las Nevadas was… odd. Not necessarily in a bad way. And, Prime, Techno was so relieved to have him back, whatever state he was in. But his old friend was decidedly… different.

His mood had fluctuated a lot before he had left. Some days, he would leave his room without being told, and talk without being asked. Would seem almost fine. While other days, he would curl up on his bed and not say a word, or else follow anything they asked him to do to the letter, while refusing to do anything else.

Now, he still flipped unpredictably between personalities and moods, but more… dramatically. He still had days where he would go quiet and shaky and hide in his room all day, or else follow Techno around silently until he was given something to do.

But he also had days where he started doing… pretty much the opposite of whatever Techno or Phil might ask him to do, or had ever asked him to do. Or had never even told him to do in the first place. Not eat if they suggested he should, stay up all night if they asked him if he wanted to sleep, refuse to answer their questions if he was alright, or if he needed anything.

Dream had also started going outside, which he had never really done before. At least not unless he was with Techno.

The first time he’d done it, he hadn’t told either of them, and Techno had searched the house top to bottom in a state of near panic and was about ready to storm Las Nevadas before Dream had returned, red and shaking from cold, snow dusted in his hair. Phil had made Techno go on a walk to calm down, while he talked to Dream about it. Told him it was of course fine for him to go wherever he wanted, but that it was dangerous, and to please at least let them know if he would be gone, so they wouldn’t have to worry.

And sometimes Dream would. He would nervously go up to Techno and trail after him for hours before finally gathering up enough courage to ask if he could go outside. Or else ask Phil out of nowhere, nervously waiting for a response.

But he would also sometimes just leave without a word. Go walk through the edge of the woods, or watch the war hounds in their shed, or just sit on the porch and stare out over the frozen landscape. No one had seen him yet — at least, not that Techno was aware of. But that didn’t mean that no one ever would, and it made him nervous. All it took was one unexpected visit from Tommy or Wilbur, one person with Invis, and Dream would be discovered.

Techno wondered if this was Dream’s way of being a ‘person.’ Rebelling against whatever anyone told, asked, or suggested that he do. Proving that he didn’t need to listen to them. And Prime, it relieved Techno so much, made him so proud that Dream was actually making decisions, actually doing things without being told, even doing things that were the exact opposite of what he was being told. There had been a decided shift in Dream since he’d come back from Las Nevadas. It was good, it was progress. But it did make Techno unbelievably nervous.

Dream had never worried enough about his own wellbeing, even before Pandora. Sam and Quackity had only made it so much worse. And Techno worried that Dream now was even more likely to get himself killed.

As the days went on, it seemed more and more likely that Dream would somehow hurt himself, whether on accident, or on purpose, in one of his moods of rebelliousness. Because Techno had asked him not to. And once upon a time, that would have been more than enough. But now, Techno wondered if the fact that he’d asked Dream not to hurt himself would make Dream more likely to do it.

He lay awake at night worrying about it. Wondering how to handle it. How to explain to Dream that, yes, he was a person, and he could make his own decisions, but that he really should consider making better ones. Explain that accepting advice from people didn’t mean he was less than them, didn’t mean that he was obeying orders from them. But he didn’t know how, or even how to bring it up. Especially when he couldn’t stop thinking about the Butcher Army, or L’Manburg, or any other corrupt, self-proclaimed authority — insisting that Techno bow to their whims, whatever they might be. How could bring up that Dream could choose to listen to people, when he himself so often chose to do the opposite?

As it turned out, he didn’t need to bring it up, because Dream did it for him.

Just over a week after he’d come back, Dream had come up to Techno as he was sorting through his enchanted books one morning, looking equal parts determined and nervous. He was still limping slightly, even with potions. After looking at it carefully days ago, Phil had guessed it was just a fracture, with too much strain put on it. Had advised that he try and keep off of it. Which Dream opted to mostly ignore. Which led to him standing in front of Techno now, his weight shifted to be slightly off of his injured leg.

“Techno,” Dream started, and he was talking to him without being asked a question, and that was progress, “how do you be a person?”

Techno blinked. Now that was a question he didn’t know how to answer.

“I don’t think I’m doing it right,” Dream continued. His hands were shaking, but they were always shaking, and it wasn’t a very good indicator of his actual mood. “You still seem — upset.”

“Do I?” Techno asked feeling a flash of worry and setting a book aside. “Sorry, Dream, I don’ mean to.”

“Doing what you say because you’re my owner makes me a bad person,” Dream said firmly. It sounded like he’d practiced this, or at least thought about it a lot. “Because people don’t belong to people. But if I don’t do what you say, you get upset. You and Phil. It makes you upset — right? When I — I leave, or I don’t… eat, or sleep. So — so what am I doing wrong?” He still sounded like he was trying to be calm about this, but there was undeniably an undercurrent of anxiety in his tone, reflected in his eyes. He was worried. Nervous to be asking Techno this, perhaps nervous to be asking him anything at all.

“You’re doin’ fine,” Techno assured him. “Really, you are.” He didn’t miss the way Dream relaxed slightly at his words. “It’s just….” He sighed. “I want you to be safe, and healthy, and well, y’know? To be able to take care of yourself, make good decisions. And… and it makes me worried when you don’t.”

Dream’s eyebrows twitched together in a frown. “But… I do,” he said. “I mean — sorry, I don’t — I’m not arguing with you, I’m sorry —“

“Nah, go ahead,” Techno said, nodding. “It’s fine, I’m not upset.”

“I’m… fine,” Dream said slowly. “I’m not… dying. I know when I’m getting close to dying, and I’m not, so I’m fine.”

“Dream, there is a pretty significant difference between ‘doin’ fine’ and ‘literally about to die,’” Techno said dryly.

“But I’m not dying,” Dream said again. “So I’m fine.” His eyes flicked to the side, and then back at Techno. “Should I just… listen to you? I can do that too. I thought… I thought I was doing — good. Is that not what people do? I don’t want to just… just listen to people again.” He sounded almost ashamed to say it.

“Technically speaking, ‘people’ do whatever they want,” Techno said. “You can listen to me or not, it’s totally up to you. There’s not some checklist of what makes you a ‘person.’ But I feel like… maybe… we should go over general healthy livin’ habits. So you don’ get yourself killed or somethin’ on accident.”

“Oh — I wouldn’t kill myself on accident,” Dream assured him quickly. “Only if you or Sir told me to.”

Techno started, staring at Dream. “If I — what?” he demanded.

Dream shrunk back, his previous confidence immediately dissolving. “If — if you or Sir told me to,” he repeated. “I — I wouldn’t do it otherwise, I promise. I swear I wouldn’t.”

“But if — if Quackity told you to —“

“Sir — Sir trained me to,” Dream said nervously. “In case I ever — in case he needed me to. He had me do it, a few — a few times. But he always — healed me, afterwards. Before I would actually — die. So it was fine. But if you — if you don’t want me to, I won’t.”

Techno just stared at him, absolutely horrified. Every time he thought he’d seen the worst of what Quackity and Sam had done to Dream, he learned something like this.

Quackity had trained Dream to kill himself.

Dream, looking increasingly desperate, said quickly, “If you don’t want me to, I won’t! I swear I won’t, S— Techno. I — I’m sorry.” He took a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.”

“But you… you don’ listen to him anymore,” Techno said, almost pleadingly. “If he told you to — to do that — would you… you wouldn’t still… do it?”

Dream hunched his shoulders, folding his arms tight across his chest. “I… don’t belong to him,” he said slowly. “Because I’m a person. But I don’t belong to you, because I’m a person, and I still listen to you. If you told me to kill myself, I would. Because you — you wanted me to. And I want — I want to make you happy. I don’t… belong to Sir. So I don’t listen to him. But I can still… listen to him? Right?”

“No!” Techno exploded. “Dream, you don’t listen to people telling you to kill yourself, what?”

Dream had started to back up, eyes wide, fingers digging into his arms. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I — I… won’t? But if he tells me to —“

“Then don’t listen! You didn’t listen to him now, you came back! So don’t listen to him about anything!” Techno knew he shouldn’t be shouting, knew he was scaring Dream, but he couldn’t help it. Chat was screaming in his head, his vision tinged with red. “Dream, you can’t —“ He took a deep breath, making a huge effort to calm himself. “You don’ have to listen to him, alright? Not for that, not for anything.”

“Okay,” Dream whispered. “I’m sorry.” Before Techno could say another word, Dream had fled the room.

***

Dream was curled up on the hardwood floor under his bed, pressed against the back wall, and realized he wasn’t sure how he’d gotten there.

He’d been talking to Techno, and then he’d — left? He’d left. Techno had yelled at him. He… didn’t do that. He didn’t do that. Every time he’d done that, it had been because Dream had been doing something very wrong. Just the thought made Dream’s chest feel tight, his eyes stinging.

But this wasn’t even him doing anything wrong! He said he would listen to Techno; that wasn’t bad, was it?

Maybe it was fact that he’d said he’d still listen to Sir.

Dream squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing a hand over them. His fingers touched the brand on his cheek, just under his eye. Sir had given him that. Sir was his owner. The Warden was his owner. He was — he wasn’t. Dream had left them. He’d left. He didn’t have to listen to them. He was a person.

But what if Sir told him to do something? Would Dream even be able to refuse?

Dream tried to picture it, tried to picture Sir telling him to do something, and his resolve immediately crumbled. He’d left Sir, yes, he’d left Las Nevadas, and that had been disobeying him, but Sir also hadn’t… been there. If Sir had been there, had been looking at Dream and ordering him not to leave, would Dream even have been able to do it?

He didn’t know.

But he was able to disobey Techno, wasn’t he? He was! He had been trying so hard. It wasn’t hard to not eat for a day or two, or to stop himself from falling asleep at night. He was well enough trained for that. It wasn’t like it was an uncommon punishment for him, back in Las Nevadas. But it was hard to disobey Techno and Phil. It felt so wrong, so very wrong, but strangely freeing at the same time.

(Did he want that? Did he want to be able to go where he wanted, when he wanted, without worrying about what anyone else thought? Hadn’t he once had that?)

He never would have done that with Sir. If Sir had told him to eat, and Dream had dared refuse his generosity? If he had told him to stay inside the casino, and he’d gone wandering around outside? Dream had done that only once, and it stood out vividly in his memory.

He hadn’t even been planning to escape, or even go that far. Just a few moments outside, to breathe some fresh air, when he had just been ordered to stand guard in the casino doors. But there was no one around, and surely, surely he would be alright for just a minute or two, right?

He should have known better.

He got very, very close to dying that night.

Dream hadn’t gone outside after that, even looking past the fence bringing back memories of that agonizing pain.

It was hard not to remember that now, when he would go outside in the arctic. But Techno wouldn’t hurt him.

He… wouldn’t, right? Techno had yelled at him earlier, though. Maybe he would.

Dream curled up tighter under his bed, burying his face in his arms. He didn’t want to be punished. But it was better to be punished for not being a good enough person than for not being a good enough dog, right?

He should go apologize at least, right?

He wouldn’t speak to Sir without permission.

A person would apologize.

Dream would go apologize.

For what, though? If he was going to apologize, he was going to do it right. Was he apologizing for leaving? For making Techno upset? For saying he would still listen to Sir?

Or for saying he would kill himself if Techno asked.

That was what seemed to make Techno the most upset.

Yes. He would apologize for saying that.

He would still do it, though. If Techno asked, surely he would have a good reason to. And Dream couldn’t disobey him about something that important, even if he did about little things like eating and sleeping.

Determined now, Dream pushed himself out from under the bed, forcing himself to his feet. Reddish light from the sunset was streaming in through the window. Sunset. Hadn’t it… been morning? He was sure it had been morning.

Dream felt lightheaded, pressing one hand against the wall to steady himself. He swiped a hand over his eyes, brushing away tears. When had he last eaten? Or drunk water? Or slept, even? He couldn’t remember. Maybe he should do that.

Techno seemed to think it was a good idea. And Techno was a person, and he did that anyway. If Phil reminded him to eat, or told him to get some rest, Techno would do it. And the two of them were friends. So maybe Dream could eat because his friend was telling him to, not because his owner was telling him to. Because Techno wasn’t his owner.

But he should still apologize.

Dream slowly edged through his slightly open door. Techno didn’t ever close it all the way. Dream wasn’t quite sure why.

His leg still hurt some, but he tried not to limp as he went down the hall, one hand still on the wall. He peered into the living room, and saw Philza feeding logs into the fire, his wings carefully drawn back. Techno was nowhere to be seen.

Dream thought about asking Phil, then decided not to. If Techno was missing, it was Dream’s fault, and he needed to go find him.

But where would he be? Dream paused, listening.

He couldn’t hear anything from the kitchen, nor did he hear the dogs outside that signaled someone near the house. He didn’t hear any chests opening, so Techno wasn’t in the storage room either.

Maybe he was in his own room?

Dream had never been in there before. Was he even allowed?

Maybe this was a bad idea.

No. Dream shook his head. He was going to find Techno and apologize, because that was what a person would do.

He went back down the hall, doing his utmost not to limp and cause noise that would cause Phil to turn around.

He halted at the bottom of the stairs. Techno’s room was up there, wasn’t it? He’d never been there. At least, not that he remembered.

He hesitated. Then, before he could second-guess himself any further, he determinedly walked up the stairs, gripping the railing tightly. If Techno was upset with him, so be it. He still wanted to make Techno feel better. He already made him upset far too often.

The door was closed, fully closed, and Dream realized he didn’t know what to do. Should he knock? He had knocked at the door to the cabin. But people didn’t usually knock inside, did they? Sir didn’t. But did Techno? He didn’t know.

Dream slowly eased the door open, silently edging inside. It was a warm, dimly lit room, with curtains covering the windows and weapons on the walls, but he didn’t register more than that before he saw Techno, who was sitting with his back to the door, methodically sharpening a sword.

Dream’s chest clenched. Maybe he was going to punish him after all. Or maybe the sword was for something else.

He moved forward until he was just a few steps behind him. “Techno —“ he started, and Techno jumped, whipping around, his sword tip inches from Dream’s chest.

Dream didn’t move, looking down at the sword.

“Dream,” Techno said, pulling the blade away and backing up several steps. He sounded exhausted. “Sorry. I — sorry, you just startled me, is all. I thought you were asleep.”

“I — I wanted to apologize,” Dream said, deciding to move past that. “Are you… okay?”

“Am — am I okay?” Techno gave a broken sort of laugh.

“That’s what you ask me,” Dream mumbled. “Should I not?”

“No, no, I’m sorry,” Techno apologized. “I didn’ mean to yell at ya, Dream, really. It’s just… You're my friend, y’know, and I….” He trailed off, turning away from Dream and setting the sword down on a table. “I’d hate to lose you again.”

Dream hesitated, then took a step forward, and carefully patted Techno on the shoulder. “You won’t,” he said. “I won’t do that. Unless you —“ He broke off. It had made Techno upset earlier. He wasn’t going to say that again, even if it was true. “I wouldn’t do that. I — I wouldn’t, really.”

“…What if he asked you to.”

Dream paused again. He didn’t want to lie to Techno. “I don’t know,” he whispered.

“If he came by, and stood there, and he told you to kill yourself — would you do it?” Techno still didn’t turn around.

Dream drew his hand back, clenching his arms around himself. “It’s a lot harder to — to not listen to him when he’s right there,” he muttered. “He wasn’t there when I left. Which is why I could — leave.” He swallowed. “I would… try not to? I really, really would. If you wanted me to.” Hesitantly, he reached out again, and took Techno’s hand, squeezing it gently and then pulling away again. The way Techno did to him when he was trying to comfort him. He never would have dared to try this with Sir.

“I’m… not very good at this, am I?” Dream asked after a moment of silence. “I wanted to… apologize. I made you upset. And… and you’re my — friend.” He hesitated on the word for a moment. But it was the one Techno used. “And so I wanted to apologize. People shouldn’t kill themselves, should they?”

“…They shouldn’t.” Techno sounded so sad, so tired, and Dream had never heard him like this before.

“I think I wanted to, sometimes,” Dream said slowly. “Before. But… I don’t. Not now. I couldn’t, for a while. But now… I just… don’t want to. I want to be — alive. As a person.” He shifted forward, so he could actually see Techno’s face. “…Can I do that?”

Techno looked at him. “Of course you can,” he said roughly. “‘Course you can, Dream.” He wrapped his arms around Dream, pulling him into a tight embrace.

Dream stood motionless for a moment, then slowly raised his arms, and returned the hug.

Chapter Text

Dream was doing good.

That was what he decided, anyway. He was doing good! He was doing things without being told, he was doing things because he wanted to, and that was being a good person, right? It felt right, anyway. It felt good.

Over the next several days and weeks, he helped Techno sort out his enchanted books and feed his pets, and he helped Phil fix parts of the cabin roof and replant his garden. And he was doing it with them, not for them, and somehow that made all the difference.

He was also learning things about himself. Techno had told him things before, and Philza had too, but somehow they felt more real now. Or maybe these were new things he was learning.

Dream learned he liked Techno’s pets, feeding them and stroking them and talking to them. He learned he was good gardening, according to Philza, and that he liked being outside. He learned he still remembered how to read, somehow, but he preferred letting Techno read to him instead. He learned he apparently used to wear a mask, he had given Techno gifts on top of a mountain once.

There were a lot of good things he was learning about himself, slowly puzzling together who Dream the person was. After several days of working up the nerve, he had asked Techno for a empty book, and had started writing down the things he learned, so he wouldn’t forget them again.

But there were also things he learned about himself that he… didn’t think were that good.

He learned he had helped Techno and Phil blow up a country once, which — Philza had told him that, and they must have had a good reason, but still. He learned that if there was a weapon in the room, he couldn’t concentrate, constantly glancing over at it. He learned that he was apparently homeless before Pandora.

He learned that he had hurt people.

Techno and Phil weren’t the ones who told him that, though.

Sir and the Warden had said it, time and time again, that he had done awful things, that he deserved what they were doing to him, that it was only helping him improve.

But… somehow… Dream had connected that to the Dream who wasn’t a person. To who he was in Pandora and Las Nevadas. But he was a person now, and he wasn’t like that — was he? He didn’t think so. Not at first, at least.

No, he started wondering that after their visitor showed up.

They had been in Techno’s living room, with Dream curled up on the carpet in front of the fire, listening to Techno read old myths.

The moment had been almost cozy, almost peaceful, until the dogs started barking.

Techno looked up, and Dream pushed himself upright, both of them turning towards the door.

“Dream,” Techno said carefully, “there’s an invisibility potion on that shelf there.” He nodded at it. “Drink it, and go hide in your room, alright? Stay quiet. I’ll handle it.”

“But —“ Dream started, then broke off. He tried again. “Techno, if — if they’re here for me, then —“

“Dream, please don’ fight me on this,” Techno said, already on his feet, grabbing his sword from the wall. “Jus’ — jus’ please.”

Their eyes met. Dream slowly nodded, dread pooling in his chest as he dropped his gaze. He didn’t know why he’d tried to argue. He couldn’t argue. He couldn’t do that. He pulled himself to his feet, and took the potion from the shelf, his hands shaking as he pulled the cork out.

“Don’ worry,” Techno assured him. He touched his hand briefly to Dream’s shoulder, before moving past him towards the door. “I’ll handle this.”

Dream nodded again mutely. He felt cold, shivering, his vision fuzzy around the edges. He lifted the potion and drank it, squeezing his eyes shut against the taste. He felt tingles spreading through him, and, still gripping the bottle tightly in both hands, stumbled to his room. He hesitated just inside, wavering, then pushed the door all the way shut.

He dropped down into the corner of the floor by his bed, pressed into the wall, trying to calm his breathing. He couldn’t be loud, he couldn’t be loud —

“Be quiet, prisoner.”

Dream squeezed his eyes shut.

There was a knock on the door to the cabin.

A few seconds later, Dream heard it open, and then Techno’s relieved voice — “Ranboo. Thank Prime.”

“Oh — hi, yeah, it’s me,” a wholly unfamiliar voice said with a nervous laugh. “Sorry, I meant to message ahead, I think I — forgot.” The door closed, and there were footsteps across the wood floor. “Were you… expecting someone else?”

“I’m always expectin’ someone else, let’s be real here.” Techno sighed. “I thought maybe Quackity was hangin’ around, I dunno.”

“Nah, it’s just me, just me,” the person, Ranboo, assured him. “It’s been a minute. How are you… doing? Since… I mean. Since Dream left, I guess. I feel like I only saw you the one time since then. Sorry. That’s probably not… forget I said anything. Probably not a good conversation topic, ha.”

“Oh, he’s actually back now,” Techno said, as casually as anything. Dream opened his eyes, staring at the door, thoroughly confused. Who on earth was Ranboo? And why was Techno, who had always been so insistent that no one see Dream when he went out, just be telling Ranboo about him? “Came back a couple weeks ago.”

“Wait — really? I thought you said he went back to — Las Nevadas, didn’t he?” Ranboo sounded confused, and bit… worried.

“He wanted to come back,” Techno said, a slight shift in his voice.

“Huh,” Ranboo said uncertainly. “Okay. Um. He’s not gonna like… kill anyone or something, is he?”

“Ranboo,” Techno sighed. “C’mon, man, I told you he wasn’t gonna do anything bad.”

“Right, right, yeah, you did say that,” Ranboo said. “But I mean. He does still kind of freak me out, not gonna like. And you know Tommy’s always freaking out that Dream is gonna come murder him or whatever —“

“Dream’s not gonna kill anyone,” Techno said firmly. “He’s — he’s a good guy Ranboo. Really.”

“Sure, okay. But like — he definitely wasn't before, was he? Like. He did kill a lot of people —“

“To be fair, we were at war for most of that, and I also killed a lotta people —“

“—And I know you said not to worry about it, but Tubbo says I’ve been Enderwalking again, and it’s just — it’s freaking me out, Techno, and I can’t do that again, I can’t, I can’t do that, it —“ Ranboo’s voice had risen in his distress, unto Techno cut him off.

“Hey, hey, don’ freak out, I promise you’re gonna be fine,” Techno assured him, and there were steps on the wooden floor again. “Dream’s not gonna do anythin,’ alright? I promise you’ll be fine.”

“…I thought maybe you’d have some answers or something,” Ranboo said, and Dream could barely hear him. “It’s kind of why I came over from Snowchester, you just — you and Phil usually make things feel better. That mentor wisdom and stuff. But if Dream is still here —“

“Did ya wanna talk to him?”

Panic froze in Dream’s chest, his eyes wide, his grip tightening around the glass bottle. He didn’t want to talk to this person, what was Techno even saying? He would if Techno told him to; of course he would. But he didn’t want to. He didn’t know how to talk to people. He didn’t even know who this was, but by the way he was talking… it sounded like Ranboo knew him. And it sounded like he didn’t like what he knew.

Ranboo gave a nervous laugh. “Prime no. Geez, please let’s never, ever do that. Talking with Dream really doesn’t usually end well for me.”

“He’s not the same person, Ranboo. And… even before, he was still my friend y’know.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know. I know. I remember what he looked like when we got him out, but… still. Techno, I —“ Ranboo broke off. He took a breath, and then rushed out, “I’m just afraid he’s gonna make me do something in the Enderwalk, and someone is going to end up hurt, like — Techno, what if I wake up and I’ve killed Tubbo? Or Tommy? Dream’s already killed Tommy before, what if he tries to —“

The glass bottle in Dream’s hands shattered, his grip finally too tight.

The conversation in the living room faltered.

“Is that…?” Ranboo started uncertainly

“…I should probably go handle that,” Techno said slowly. “It’s completely unrelated to the present conversation, I’m sure.” A pause. “But seriously, Ranboo. I know I haven’t been super… open about everythin’ that’s happened, with Dream and Las Nevadas and everythin’. But I really don’ think Dream is behind your Enderwalk.” Another pause. The broken glass was still clenched in Dream’s hands, cutting into his fingers and palms, blood dripping onto the hardwood floor. Dream barely felt it. “I didn’… tell you this. Or Niki. But… you know he wasn’ doin’ well.”

“…Yeah.”

“He doesn’ remember anythin’, Ranboo,” Techno said flatly. “Not me, not you. Not… himself. What Quackity and Sam did to him….” He trailed off. “I don’ think he knows about your Enderwalk. Or Tommy. Or any of it. He’s… he’s really a different person, alrigh’? Just… jus’ give him a chance.”

There was silence.

Dream registered that he wasn’t breathing, and tried to force himself to inhale. There seemed to be something stuck in his chest. He couldn’t make himself breathe.

“…Okay,” Ranboo muttered. “I… okay.” Footsteps across the floor, and a pause. “I… I need to think about this. Processing, or… whatever. You’re fine if I’m staying in my house up here?”

“It’s your house, man,” Techno said. “Take care of yourself, alrigh’? If you need anythin’, you know I’m always here. You don’ gotta talk to Dream if you don’ wan’ to.”

“Right,” Ranboo muttered, his voice barely audible now. The front door opened. “Yeah. I’ll see you later, Techno. Gonna go have a panic attack or something. Maybe a major moral dilemma, I dunno, we’ll see.”

Techno half-chuckled. “Be safe, Ranboo. Again, if you need need anythin’ at all… I’m here.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know. I know. Thanks, Techno. I’ll… I’ll be over at my place, I guess. See you.”

“See ya, Ranboo.”

A moment later, and the door closed. There were footsteps moving quickly across the floor, and then the door to Dream’s room banged open, Techno standing in the doorway.

“Hey, where are ya?” he asked quickly, eyes sweeping the room. “C’mon, Dream, please talk to me.”

Dream didn’t think he could speak, but must have made some kind of sound, because Techno turned to the corner, dropping down. Techno slowly reached out a hand until he touched Dream’s shoulder, sliding down to grip his arm.

“Are you okay?” Techno asked urgently. “I heard somethin’ break, what happened?”

Dream forced himself to take a strained, shaky breath.

“Are you okay?” Techno repeated. “I’m sorry, I know Ranboo was unexpected, but — yeah that’s Ranboo, he’s a friend of mine, he’s alright. He actually helped us get you out of Las Nevadas the first time, he’d ask after ya sometimes, he’s not gonna hurt ya —“

Dream mutely shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. Tingled suddenly rushed through him, dissipating the invisibility.

Techno cursed under his breath, carefully lifting Dream’s hands, and Dream opened his eyes to stare down at them, at the blood now covering them. “Did the bottle break?” Techno asked quietly. Dream didn’t say anything. Techno slowly, gently pulled back Dream’s fingers, releasing the glass fragments from them. Shattered pieces of bottle clattered to the floor, coated in blood.

“What happened?” Techno asked, still carefully removing the glass from Dream’s hands.

Dream tried to take a breath, failed, and tried again. “I — he —“ he started, then broke off, shaking his head again, turning away from Techno. He tried to tug his hands away, but Techno didn’t let go. “I’m sorry.”

“We gotta fix these up first, alrigh’?” Techno said gently. “Hey, hey, you’re fine. You’re fine. We’ll get these bandaged, get you a potion, and —“

“What did I do?” Dream whispered. He didn’t look at Techno, still staring at his blood spotted on the floor. “What — what did I do?”

Techno didn’t say anything for a moment. Dream tried to pull his hands away again, and this time succeeded. He folded his arms tightly around himself, heedless of the glass and blood, pressing himself into the corner.

“You were… an interestin’ guy,” Techno said at last. “We were friends, y’know. And you —“

“He said I — killed people,” Dream choked out.

“…Yeah. I mean. You did. But — but, hey, don’ cry, Dream, you’re alrigh’, you’re alrigh’. I mean, I killed people too.”

Dream choked back a sob, still unable to look at Techno. “They’re not — are they dead?”

“Uh. I think anyone you killed is… technically still alive. Three life system and all. So it’s fine, see? C’mon, Dream, can I please fix your hands?”

“He — Ranboo — he’s not….” Dream let out a shaky breath, trying to regain some control over himself. “He doesn’t… he doesn’t like me.”

“Not really,” Techno admitted. “But he’s not gonna hurt you, he knows you’re a friend of mine too. And he did help us get you out.”

Dream nodded, rubbing the back of his hand over his eyes. “I’m not — I’m not good at being a — a person,” he said, his voice hoarse from crying. “I… I wasn’t good at it before either, was I? I wasn’t… I wasn’t a good person.”

“That’s a bit of a loaded question, I’ll be honest,” Techno said slowly. He carefully reached out, and took Dream’s hands again. Dream let him; what else was he supposed to do? “I never really knew you that well. But you saved my life, when we barely even knew each other. You helped me an’ Phil bring down a corrupt nation. You made a stupid dirt hut after I made fun of you for being homeless, and it was really funny. I dunno if you were some fantastically epic person, but you were my ally, and my friend. You never betrayed me. I could count on you. And that’s good enough for me.” He rose, gently guiding Dream to stand up with him with his hands on his arms. “We can work out the rest later, alrigh’?”

Lacking any kind of better response, Dream nodded. His eyes were stinging from tears, his hands stinging from glass. He felt more exhausted than he thought he should.

“Can I help you fix your hands now?” Techno asked, carefully leading him around the broken glass on the floor.

“…Yes.”

Techno nodded, looking relieved — it was the right answer — and, one hand protectively around him, led Dream back out of his room.

***

Dream let Techno heal his hands, let him pour healing potion over them and carefully wrap them in bandages. He didn’t protest to it any further. Mostly because he wasn’t thinking about that anymore, too focused on what Ranboo had said about him. He hadn’t been a good person. He hadn’t been a good person. He had killed people. Techno had made him think he used to be a good person, but he wasn’t.

But that wasn’t him.

Was it?

He didn’t have to do that if he didn’t want to. He didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want to. He was a person. Techno said so. And Techno wouldn’t lie to him.

If Dream didn’t want to be in Las Nevadas anymore, he didn’t have to be. If he didn’t want to obey orders, he didn’t have to. And if he didn’t want to go out and kill people, he didn’t have to.

He still needed to hear it from Techno, though. Techno said he had liked Dream even before Las Nevadas. So surely, he couldn’t have been that bad, right?

Either way, he didn’t want to do that.

He wasn’t going to kill anyone. Even if he couldn’t remember doing it before, he wasn’t going to do that ever again.

Unless someone ordered him to.

No. No, even if someone ordered him to, he wouldn’t. He was determined. Because a good person wouldn’t go out and just kill people, even if someone else ordered them to. Because Dream was a person, and he could do what he wanted, and he wanted to be a good person, and he didn’t want to kill people.

“Techno,” he said abruptly, as his friend was putting away various medical supplies. “I don’t — I don’t have to be that person. Right?”

“Be who?”

“Who I was — before. Before Pandora.”

“Not if ya don’ want to.”

“I don’t.” Dream hesitated. “Techno, I don’t want to kill anyone. Even — even me. Don’t… let me. Please.” He curled his bandaged hands in front of him. “I don’t know if I would still… listen to him. Or if he would tell me to… kill someone. But if he ever did… don’t let me. Please?”

“I won’t,” Techno assured him. He gently squeezed Dream’s shoulder. “I won’ let you kill anyone if you don’ want to. I promise.”

Feeling much more reassured about the whole thing, Dream nodded. “Thank you. Should I… should I go apologize to Ranboo? Would a person do that? I don’t… know what I did. But… he doesn’t like me.”

“I think maybe give Ranboo some space,” Techno said. “He’s workin’ things out, just like you are. You’ve both got memory issues, actually, though you’ve probably got ‘im beat at this point. He’ll probably reach out if he ever wants to talk.”

Dream nodded. “He said I killed — Tommy. Who’s Tommy? Should I go apologize to him?”

Techno laughed dryly. “Nah, that wouldn’ be a great idea. Tommy’s pretty… yeah. Tommy is Tommy. Not really a ‘talk it out’ kind of person. You killed him, he killed you, it was messy, no one was happy. Best thing is probably just to leave it be for a while. Or forever, I dunno.”

“But who is he?” Dream asked again. The name sounded… familiar. Almost. Like music disks and a beach and a cat. There was a feeling of unease around it all, and he pushed the disjointed thoughts away. He was good at shoving away any memories that didn’t help him in Las Nevadas. His memories rarely helped anything, and after a while of forcing them down, they tended to stop coming.

Techno hesitated. “A kid. Phil likes him. He lived in my basement for a while, stole a bunch of my stuff. He’s annoying. But he kinda… grows on you, I guess. I’m not a big fan. I dunno. You can ask Phil, he knows ‘em better.”

“You don’t like him?”

“Nah,” Techno said. “Not really.” He hesitated. “He betrayed me, so there’s that. Not a fan of betrayals.”

“Oh,” Dream said. “Okay.” He rubbed a hand over the rough white bandages. He wondered how he’d never asked this before, never asked about people he supposedly knew. Maybe it just hadn’t really occurred to him that he knew anybody until Ranboo showed up. “Do I have any other friends?” he asked. “Besides you? And Phil?”

“Uh.” Techno frowned, tapping his fingers on the tabletop. “I mean. I dunno. There was the ‘Dream Team,’ I guess.”

“But that’s my name. You said so.”

“Right. The Dream Team was you and Sapnap and — what’s his name — George. Maybe Karl? I dunno, I haven’t seen ‘em in a while. Not since the last war, I don’t think. But I think stuff got pretty messy right before you were put in Pandora, so I dunno… who was on good or bad terms with you. I’d just steer clear of people, honestly. It’s what me an’ Phil do, for the most part.”

“No one came by to see me,” Dream said. “Unless I — forgot. Maybe I should talk to people who were maybe my friends. But friends wouldn’t not visit me, right? But you didn’t either, did you?” He lapsed into silence, staring down at the table for a moment, before looking up again. “But you did get me out,” he said.

“Yeah,” Techno said, and he sounded sad. “I’m sorry I didn’ do it sooner.”

“It’s fine,” Dream said. “I didn’t get me out sooner, either.”

“But you're out now,” Techno said firmly. “You’re out now, and that’s what’s important. You gonna be okay?” he checked.

“Yes,” Dream said. “…Yeah. I will. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Dream. You’re welcome.”

Chapter Text

Something was wrong.

Dream knew that, the moment he woke up.

His chest hurt, his head was pounding, and his hands were shaking worse than they normally did. He slowly pushed himself to his feet, rubbing a hand over his eyes to try and clear the sleep from them. Nothing felt right, his vision blurred at the edges.

He looked over towards the door, blinking when he realized it was partially open. Sir never left the door open. It was a test. It had to be a test. Why else would the door be left open, if not to….

Techno.

He wasn’t with Sir. He was with Techno. And Techno, for reasons Dream could never puzzle out, never closed the door.

He slowly turned in a circle, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do. Sun was shining through the window, casting light onto the floor; it was late. It was much later than Dream usually slept. He was usually awake by this time, usually doing things to help Techno and Phil around their cabins. Why hadn’t Techno woken him up? Didn’t he need him to do something?

Should he go find Techno? No. No, he wouldn’t do that, he wouldn’t go bother him. Slowly, ignoring the way his body protested at the movement, Dream moved to kneel on the floor in the middle of the room the way he was supposed to. Techno would come for him if he needed something. He could wait. He could be good.

His knees were sore and his eyesight was fuzzy by the time that he remembered he was supposed to be a person now. He didn’t need to sit and wait for orders. He could do whatever he wanted, because he was a person.

Dream was supposed to do that. He was supposed to. He knew that. He did.

He couldn’t make himself get up.

Every time he thought about getting up, disjointed memories of orders and training and pain clouded his mind, his ears filling with static. He wasn’t allowed to move. He wasn’t allowed to, he couldn’t.

But he had. Just yesterday, he had been just fine, he had been talking with Techno after Ranboo’s visit, and he was fine.

Move, he ordered himself. Get up. Just move, you worthless thing, just get up.

He shifted on the floor, and even just that motion caused a flood of panic, and he stopped.

He needed to stay. He needed to be good, he couldn’t be bad, he couldn’t disobey, he had to be good. He would stay until Techno came and told him otherwise.

Dream stayed on the floor for a long time.

***

Techno went to go find Dream around noon, tapping on his door before poking his head in. Dream was usually awake hours before this, but if he wanted more sleep, Techno certainly wasn’t going to get in his way.

Except that Dream wasn’t in bed.

He was kneeling on the hardwood floor, hands in his lap, eyes unfocused, looking awfully, eerily similar to how he had in the basement of Las Nevadas. He looked up when Techno opened the door, but his eyes didn’t clear.

“Dream?” Techno asked, trying hard not to let his nervousness show. “Hey, man, you — uh, good?”

Dream slowly looked up at him, not quite making eye contact. His hands were shaking.

“Yes. Sir,” Dream finally said, as if the words were taking a long time to reach him. “I’m sorry.” His voice was flat, empty.

“Hey, c’mon, it’s just Techno,” he said, shoving down the surge of fear in his chest. “You know that.” He slowly walked over to Dream, crouching down in front of him.

Dream’s breath stuttered in his chest. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “Techno.”

Slowly, carefully, Techno put a hand on Dream’s shoulder. Dream flinched. “You with me, Dream?”

“Yes, s— Techno. Yes. What….” He sucked in a breath. “What are your orders?”

“You’re a person,” Techno reminded him gently. “You don’ answer to anyone, ‘member?”

Something flickered in Dream’s gaze. A second later, he shoved himself upright, staggering back into the wall, one hand pressed against it, squeezing his eyes shut. “Sorry,” he forced out. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I — I couldn’t….” He trailed off, opening his eyes again as Techno rose. “You can punish me. I’m sorry.”

“No one’s punishin’ you,” Techno said firmly. “You’re my friend, remember? I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Something like realization crashed over Dream, and he slowly sank to the ground, eyes darting back and forth. “You said that,” he said. “I — I know that. You said that. Why —? So why did I…?” He trailed off, pressing his palms into his forehead. “I know that.”

“Hey, hey, Dream, you’re fine,” Techno assured him, remaining several feet away. He felt like it was important to give Dream his space, especially when he was freaking out like this. “It’s all fine, man.”

“I — I’m sorry,” Dream said again. He pressed his hands over his eyes. “I’m — being bad. I’m sorry.”

“You’re not ‘bein’ bad,’” Techno said firmly. “You’re doin’ fine.”

“I’m being bad,” Dream repeated.

“You’re not,” Techno assured him. “You’re really not.” He hesitated. He never really knew what to do when Dream was like this — when he was so desperate for orders, or familiarity, or to be punished. Leave him alone? Try and get him to make a choice? Give him something to do? Chat was yelling a plethora of suggestions, none of which were helpful. “…D’you want some breakfast?” Techno tried.

Dream stared at him for a long moment. His hand subconsciously brushed over the bracketed smile burned into his cheek. “Do you want me to?” he finally asked. He was still on the ground, his knees drawn up to his chest, pressed against the wall. He was also still shaking.

“Do you want to? You’re a person, man. You know that. You can do whatever you want.”

Dream didn’t look at him, staring down at the floor. His arms were wrapped tightly around his chest, fingers digging into his forearms. “…Please tell me what to do,” Dream whispered. “Please. Techno.”

Inwardly, Techno sighed. He hated that this felt like a step back. Like lost progress. What had happened? Was it something Techno did? Was it Ranboo visiting? Was it just a bad day for him? “Why don’ you come eat breakfast, alright?” He reached out a hand towards Dream, who was already shoving himself unsteadily to his feet.

Dream didn’t accept Techno’s hand, instead bracing himself against the wall, looking at Techno’s hand with something like fear.

“What’s wrong?” Techno asked, and immediately wanted to kick himself. He knew what was wrong. Of course he did. What was the point of asking about it?

“You… you said you weren’t going to hurt me,” Dream said, with an edge of desperation to his voice. “You said so. I know you did.”

“I meant it,” Techno assured him, feeling a pang of worry. “Did you… think I was gonna hurt you?”

“You were….” Dream broke off, and then tried again. “You said you weren’t going to punish me,” he said, like Techno saying it made it irrevocable truth. “You said so.”

“Right,” Techno said, still fully unsure what the heck made Dream think he was going to hurt him. “And…?”

Dream looked at Techno’s hand. “You were going to — to take my hand,” he said.

“…To help you stand up?” Techno frowned, looking down at his still-outstretched hand, then back up. “Dream. Dream. What did you think I was gonna do?”

Dream’s shoulders lifted in some tense approximation of a shrug. Or maybe he was just drawing in on himself to look smaller. “…Break it? I don’t know. I don’t know. That’s the only reason why —“ He fumbled over the words. “That’s the only reason why S— why they would take my hand. I don’t…. I’m sorry.”

Techno briefly closed his eyes, let out a breath, then opened them again. He hated that still, after all this time, he didn’t know all of Dream’s triggers. Things that he responded to like orders, or seemingly mundane things that he reacted to like they were designed to cause him pain. Both he and Phil had been adding to that paper list of them for weeks, and now, apparently, he needed to add ‘Don’t reach out to try and take Dream’s hand because he will assume you’re going to break his fingers.’ Had he ever tried to take Dream’s hand before? Surely he had. He had to have done, right? Had Dream thought that he was going to hurt him? Every time he did it? Or was it just at lower points like these?

Dream was still staring at him, his eyes wide. “I was just tryin’ to help you up,” Techno said at last. “I would not ever… break your hand. I’m just a helpful guy. Technoblade the helpful, they call me.” He gave a very forced laugh, finally lowering his hand and gesturing at the door. “Let’s just go eat breakfast, alright? C’mon.”

He left the room, and Dream, a few seconds later, followed him.

***

Dream sat at the table — at the table, in a chair, which he still didn’t think he would ever really get used to — his hands wrapped around the glass cup of water. It let him pretend that they weren’t shaking as badly as they actually were.

Techno set a series of spices onto the counter, before turning back to whatever he was cooking on the stove. “So,” Techno said after a long stretch of silence, his voice slightly awkward. “Uh. I guess you’ve… met Ranboo now. Re-met, I guess. Sorta. You now know that he exists.”

The water in the glass had a faint wobble to it, and it took Dream a long moment to realize that his hands were still shaking.

“He’s pretty chill, he’s pretty chill,” Techno continued after a pause. “Thoughts on ‘em?”

Dream wrenched his gaze away from the water, looking up at Techno, who still has his back to him. “He’s your friend?” Dream verified.

“Yeah. We go waaay back. Only good things in our mentor / prodigy relationship.”

“He’s fine,” Dream said. He was really only half lying. If Ranboo was Techno’s friend, then surely he had to be good, right? Then again, Techno called Dream his friend, and Dream knew that he was only sometimes good.

“I know you said you wanted to talk with any old friends you might’ve had,” Techno said, sprinkling some kind of spice over the pan. “You and Ranboo were… not friends, really, but — alrigh’, you didn’ get along, but he still knows stuff about pre-Pandora you. If you ever wanted to talk to him.”

Dream did not want to talk to Ranboo. He really, really did not want to. Ranboo was unfamiliar, he was mildly terrifying, and Dream was fairly certain that Ranboo would kill him if given the chance. He clearly thought Dream was going to try and kill him, after all. So why wouldn’t he just do it first? But he couldn’t tell that to Techno; Ranboo was his friend. “If you want me to,” Dream said, doing his very best to keep his voice even. And he would. If Techno wanted him to talk to Ranboo, then he would.

“It’s up to you,” Techno said, shrugging. He set the jar of spice back down onto the counter harder than necessary. He was upset. Still. Dream had done something to make him upset, and Techno was trying to cover it up with casual conversation on whatever topic he could think of, but it was still so obvious that he wasn’t happy. He did that a lot. Only with Dream, though. Never with Phil. Dream supposed Phil was just better at being a person than he was, so there was less reason for Techno to get upset. He’d just had more practice. But maybe Dream could get there someday.

“You know you can be honest about how you’re feelin’, Dream,” Techno said, turning to look at Dream, who dropped his gaze back to the shivering glass of water. “You're a person. You’re allowed to do whatever you want, and that includes not wantin’ to talk to people.”

“I don’t want to talk to him,” Dream mumbled. “Not… yet.” Maybe later. If Techno wanted him to. Or if Ranboo, for some reason, wanted him to. People probably talked to people they knew. But Dream was only sort of a person — mostly a person, maybe — and he didn’t want to talk to Ranboo. “Is that fine?” he checked. He wouldn’t ask this of Sir. Sir always let him know very quickly and very painfully if he had given the wrong answer. But since Techno didn’t, he constantly felt the urge to check. “People can do that?”

Techno chuckled, turning back to the pan. “Dream, you are talkin’ to a majorly anti-social individual. I avoid ninety percent of people. I don’ enjoy social interactions. Of course you don’ have to talk to people if you don’ want to.”

“Then why am I here?” Dream asked. “If you don’t like people? Am I… not enough of a person yet?”

Techno turned back around, looking directly at Dream. “You are absolutely, one hundred percent a person,” Techno said firmly. “I like hangin’ out with you because you’re my friend, Dream. You and Phil don’ really count towards the whole ‘social battery’ I have goin’ on. You’re just special like that.” He gave Dream a fond, sad smile, before turning back to the food. He took out two plates, and started dishing out the food.

“…You don’t mind me being here?” Dream checked. “Even though I’m….” He hovered over the word. “Difficult?”

“Dream, my friend, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Chapter Text

Dream stared down at the list, taken out of a tucked-away living room drawer, one cloudy afternoon. Both Phil’s and Techno’s handwriting, going down the worn sheet of paper. It wasn’t titled, but it wasn’t hard to figure out what it was.

Netherite, shears, yelling.

Dream’s hands were shaking.

This was his. Or, rather, it was here because of him. Because Techno and Phil made it for him. Both of them always so careful to avoid doing things that made him nervous, doing things that Sir or the Warden would do. He saw Ranboo on the list, too, near the end. Had that always been there? Or had Techno added it in the few days since Ranboo’s visit?

Further down the list, his commands were listed out. Commands that Sir or the Warden had set for him, that both of them had used. Down, quiet, come, drop it. That Techno and Phil had used, unintentionally. Only a few times for any command, until they figured out that they were actually his commands. And then never again. But this was where they ended up.

Dream let out a slow breath. People didn’t have lists like this. He was a person (right?). He shouldn’t still be like this, still nervous around shears and yelling and weapons. Still obeying single word commands like he was some kind of animal. He was a person. He had decided to be a person. And after Ranboo’s visit, Dream had fully determined he would be a good person (whatever that meant).

Techno wasn’t like this. Phil wasn’t like this. And they were both people. Dream needed to be better, needed to be more like them.

He needed to get over it.

But how could he, if he never even saw or heard any of these things? How would he know that he wouldn’t still be afraid of them, or wouldn’t still listen to them? Techno and Phil wouldn’t ever bring them up, not if they were on this list. Which meant Dream would have to do it himself.

He looked at the list again. The thought of trying to do the things there made his skin crawl and his heart race. He didn’t want someone to yell at him. He didn’t want to be trapped in a dark room. But how else would he no longer be afraid of those things? How else would he be a person?

Dream carefully rolled up the paper, and set it back inside the desk drawer. Techno wouldn’t like this plan. He didn’t like it when Dream was hurting, or nervous, or obeying him. So Dream decided that he just… wouldn’t tell him. Techno might suspect, but that was alright. As long as he didn’t tell Dream to stop. Dream would have to stop if Techno told him to.

Because Dream needed to do this. He needed to.

How else would he be a good person?

***

Dream decided to start with the things he could do on his own. Some of them he would need Techno or Phil for, but he felt far too nervous to try and ask them, feeling like he was being bad, so he opted to start with things he could do alone.

He took a pair of scissors from the kitchen.

Dream shut the door to his room, although that by itself already made him nervous, and slowly sank down to the floor. His hands were shaking badly, gripping the scissors tightly. He hated this. He hated this he hated this he hated this.

He wasn’t supposed to feel things.

He wasn’t — he was. He was a person.

He slowly extended his fingers, and opened the scissors with his other hand. Slowly, so slowly, he moved the open blades over his finger. His breaths were quick and uneven. He had to do this. He had to.

Phil had offered to cut his hair a few days — weeks? — prior, and Dream had avoided the question until he couldn’t, and had been forced to directly tell Phil that he would really, really rather he not. The idea of giving someone permission — even if it was just Phil — to stand behind him and hold scissors directly next to his face filled him with a bone-deep terror. Similar to the fear he felt now.

Dream carefully closed the scissors, just enough so that the blades were cold against his skin. He exhaled a shaky breath, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, before opening them, and staring down at his hands. At his finger in between the blades of the scissors, barely touching them. He could already feel pain. Could see blood. Hear himself crying. Hear Sir telling him to calm down, that this was his own fault, that he needed to be punished, that he deserved this.

Dream started to close the scissors, and then immediately jerked his hand away, throwing the scissors away from him across the floor. He clenched his uninjured, perfectly fine hands against his chest, breathing heavily. His vision was blurry. He was fine. He was fine, he was fine, he was fine.

He stayed on the floor for a long time before getting up the nerve to go pick up the scissors and try again. This time, he succeeded in getting the scissors to actually pinch his finger, just barely not painful, before he carefully opened them again, and set them aside with shaking hands.

He was fine. See? He didn’t need to be afraid of scissors. He was fine. He was a person. People weren’t scared of things like scissors. People weren’t punished by things like scissors. Techno said so.

It took a long time for his breathing to steady, his heart rate to slow.

But he succeeded. He did it. He didn’t need to be afraid of the things on that list, didn’t need to let them freak him out so much, didn’t need to listen to them anymore. He was fine.

Dream slowly stood up, and returned the scissors to the kitchen. He had only taken them for a few minutes, surely, but it still felt like stealing. It still felt like being bad. But if it helped him be a better person, then it would be worth it.

What would he do next?

It became a bit of a habit for him. Every day, or multiple times a day if he could. Taking something on that list, and trying to force himself to be fine with it.

Holding his breath under water. Drinking a blindness potion. Pressing a knife against his throat.

And it was working. It was working! Right? Sure, he always felt shaky and unsteady afterwards, unable to get his heart to calm down, or his skin to stop crawling with phantom pain. Always feeling exhausted. But those were really mostly just his feelings, his emotions, and those were largely irrelevant. He was able to do it, and that was good, wasn’t it? Techno didn’t want him to be afraid of things like this, and Dream didn’t want to be afraid of things like this, so it was good.

Eventually, he realized he was going to need someone else to help him with it. Because, yes, he could hold a knife against his throat and know that he wasn’t going to hurt himself. But he needed to be able to do it with someone else. To know that they weren’t going to hurt him. Punish him. Kill him. To stop feeling ill at the very thought of it.

But he couldn’t very well ask Techno to put a knife against his throat. Techno would take that entirely the wrong way. He didn’t like it when Dream was in pain. To be fair, Dream didn’t particularly like it either.

So he decided to start smaller.

His commands. Which… he hadn’t heard in a while now. Sir used them, the Warden used them, and Techno and Phil had sometimes used them, at first. Dream needed to know if he would still listen. He didn’t want to listen. He wanted to be done with that, wanted to be free from that. Because if he couldn’t — then he wasn’t really a person, was he? But for that, he needed Techno’s help.

He went to find Techno in the early afternoon one day, when the piglin hybrid was up in his room reading.

Techno looked up when Dream edged through the slightly open door. “Oh, hey,” Techno said, setting his book aside. “What’s up?”

“I need your help,” Dream said firmly. He’d practiced this. He didn’t want to mess it up, say the wrong thing, and have Techno get upset. Because this was really nothing to get upset about.

“With what?”

“I’ve been — thinking,” Dream said. “About….” He started over. “You asked me if I would still listen to him. A while ago. I — I don’t know if I would. But I don’t… want to? I don’t think I want to? But I still — might.”

“So… what do you need from me?” Techno asked slowly.

“I need you to tell me to do something,” Dream said. “It — you know he would have… words. For me. To — to do things.” He took a deep breath. “Can you — tell me to do something?”

“Like… what?” Techno didn’t seemed thrilled with this idea. But it wasn’t even anything bad. He must also want Dream to not listen to Sir anymore, right? To not listen to his commands? So why wasn’t he happy with this idea? It wasn’t like it was going to hurt Dream or anything. Maybe he just didn’t want Dream asking him for things. But he said he did! He said he could ask him for things. He said so.

“Anything,” Dream said quickly. “Any of them. You’ve — you’ve used them before, I know you… know them. I just need to know if I… if I’ll still listen to them or not. I don’t want to listen to them, but I — I need to know.” Seeing that Techno still didn’t seem convinced, Dream added, “Please. Techno, I can’t just — just do that. Do anything, for anyone who tells me to. Sir, or — Ranboo, or — anyone. I have to know if I can be a person. Please.”

“Okay,” Techno finally relented. “Okay. But you’re fine, alright? You’re doin’ fine. You don’ have to listen to anyone you don’ want to, you know that, right?”

Dream nodded. “I know. Yes. I — I know.”

Techno seemed to be hesitating. He opened his mouth, then shut it again. “I don’ like tellin’ you to do stuff,” he said in frustration. “I’m an anarchist, Dream — I’m actually pretty against forcin’ authority.”

“But it’s fine,” Dream said. He hesitated. “Can you be — mean — about it?”

“Mean? Dream, I don’ wanna say it at all!”

“I know, I know, but you’re never really — you’re almost never actually mad at me, and so it doesn’t sound like — him — and I need it to sound like him.”

Techno hesitated for a long moment. Dream had run out of words to try and convince him, so he just stayed quiet.

“Dream,” Techno said at last, a hard edge to his voice that Dream hadn’t heard in a long time, “down.”

Without a thought, Dream fell hard to his knees, bowing his head against the ground, squeezing his eyes shut. He realized a beat later what he had done, and gritted his teeth. He wasn’t supposed to do that. He wasn’t supposed to do that.

He shoved himself to his feet just as Techno’s hand was on his shoulder, just as Techno was saying urgently, “Hey, hey, are you good? You okay?”

“I’m sorry, I’m fine, I’m sorry,” Dream said quickly. “I’m sorry.” He backed up a step, away from Techno, brushing his hair out of his face with a shaking hand. “Can you do it again?”

“Dream…,” Techno said slowly.

“I won’t do it this time,” Dream said. “I really won’t, I — I don’t know what happened. I’m sorry. I’ll do better.”

And so Techno ordered him down again. And again. And again. And every time, Dream told himself firmly that he wouldn’t do it, had Techno remind him not to do it, and then every time, he ended up on the ground at Techno’s feet.

And he hated himself for it.

Finally, Techno refused to do it again. “Dream, look, I get what you’re tryin’ to do here, but you’re only hurtin’ yourself, alright? And it’s not like it’s any fun for me either.”

“I… can’t do it,” Dream said, the realization crashing over him. He hadn’t left the floor since the last time, sitting back on his heels and staring at the far wall. “I — I can’t do it.”

“You’ll get there,” Techno promised. “It’s only really been a couple weeks y’know. You’ll get there.”

“I thought I could do it,” Dream said numbly. “I’ve been doing… other things. I thought… I thought I was doing better.”

“…Do I wanna know what ‘other things’ you’ve been doin’?” Techno asked carefully. He crouched down in front of Dream, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Dream dropped his gaze. “Just… small things,” he mumbled. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Dream…,” Techno said slowly. “You know I don’ wanna try and tell you to do things, but you’re not… you’re not hurting yourself, are you?”

“No!” Dream said quickly, looking up at him. “No, I haven’t. I really haven’t. Just — just… getting close,” he mumbled. He couldn’t look at Techno. It somehow sounded worse saying it out loud.

“Getting close.”

“I found your list,” Dream mumbled. “I didn’t want you to — to keep having to use it. Because people don’t have lists like that. From things like — scissors. So I just… use them. A bit. To stop being so afraid of them. So I could be a person.”

“Is it working?” Techno asked. He sat down actually next to Dream, letting Dream curl up beside him on the floor by the wall. It felt… comforting. Safe. Like he was actually safe. He didn’t used to feel this safe near another person.

“I dunno,” Dream muttered. “I thought so. I took some of your potions, though. Sorry.”

“I can always get you more healin’ pots, Dream, it’s not —“

“They weren’t healing.”

Techno was silent for a moment. “You said you weren’t hurtin’ yourself,” he said at last.

“Blindness and weakness aren’t hurting me,” Dream said quickly. “Technically. So it’s fine.”

“You’ve just been drinkin’ weakness potions?” Techno demanded.

“Only one,” Dream said hurriedly. “Just one. And it was — fine. The Warden gave me a lot more than that, all the time.”

“That is… extremely unhealthy, Dream. That could’ve put you into a coma or something.”

“If you get a weakness potion and a harming potion at the same time, the pain will keep you conscious, so you won’t be in a coma, you just can’t move. Unless it’s splash potions — then you can still move some, you’re just in a lot of pain,” Dream said, and then wondered if maybe he shouldn’t have said that. He didn’t know why he could remember that, but he couldn’t even remember the names of his supposed friends.

Techno stared at him. “And so you just… drank a weakness potion for fun?”

“Not for fun,” Dream said. “Just — so I wouldn’t be afraid of it. Or freak out. Because I’m a person. So I don’t need to freak out from it. Because no one is punishing me.”

“Did it… work? Did you freak out?”

Dream didn’t answer. He had, actually. He had drunk the weakness potion, and immediately felt like he was about to die. Curled up on the floor under his bed, unable to move, unable to speak, barely able to breathe. He had felt certain that he was actually about to die.

But then he hadn’t, and then he felt better, and it was fine.

“I’m thinkin’ maybe this isn’t the healthiest form of exposure therapy,” Techno said slowly. “See, I mean, exposure therapy is a real thing, but I feel like you’re just doin’ all the exposure with none of the therapy.”

“But I’m fine,” Dream said. “And it will work. Someday. Right?”

“I mean… maybe. Maybe not how you’re goin’ about it.”

Dream didn’t know how to respond to that. Techno really wasn’t taking this well at all. Dream shouldn’t have asked him for help. He wasn’t being a good person.

“Is there anythin’ else you’ve been doin’ that I should know about?” Techno asked. He gently patted Dream’s hand. “Don’ worry, I’m not mad or anythin,’ I just don’ think it’s a great idea, all things considered.”

Dream shook his head. “Just your list things,” he mumbled. “I’ll stop if you want.” He really didn’t actually want to stop, though. He would get there eventually, surely. It had taken him a while to start listening to Sir, and being afraid of him. So surely it would just take a while to stop.

“Meanin’…. You haven’t been goin’ and actually doin’ those things, have you?”

Dream shook his head again. “No. Just….” He mimed a pair of scissors over his finger, but then the feeling of pressure on his finger joint made his heart jolt, and he stopped. He tried to think if there was anything else worse than that that Techno should know about. There wasn’t. “I’m fine.”

“You keep sayin’ that, Dream, but are you actually?”

“I’m fine,” Dream repeated. He pressed himself further into the corner between Techno and the wall, clenching his arms around himself. “I’m better, right? I’m doing better? I’m being a good person?”

“You’re doing better,” Techno assured him. He hesitated. “Do you feel better?”

“I wasn’t supposed to feel things before,” Dream said. “So… I don’t know. I felt things anyway. I think I feel them more, now.” He thought about it. He had to be doing better, right? He was doing what he wanted, he was learning things and doing things, he was a person. Even if he still didn’t know who ‘Dream the person’ even was. Even if he still couldn’t disobey orders.

“Can we do this again later?” Dream asked suddenly. “It — this. I want to not listen. Anymore. Please?”

Techno nodded slowly. “Yeah. If you think it’ll help you, then yeah. I feel like we should do the actual therapy part of exposure therapy, though.”

“…What counts as therapy?”

“Uh…. Not sure, actually,” Techno said, half chuckling. “Tell me about your childhood, Dream. Kidding, kidding. Yeah, I dunno. Phil’s more the therapy type, I think. I’m not great on feelings. You want me to go ask ‘im?”

Dream shook his head. “Later,” he mumbled. “Please. Can we just… sit here?”

“Course,” Techno said. “Of course we can.”

And so they sat there.

Chapter Text

Two days after Techno had asked Phil about helping with therapy for Dream, Phil sat with Dream in the living room, in opposite chairs a few paces apart, with a small table between them. Dream looked… nervous. His hands clenched in front of him, eyes darting around the room before always going back to Phil.

Phil felt nervous. Techno had asked him to help Dream with some exposure therapy, because, as Techno put it, “Otherwise Dream is gonna go at it on his own again, which is all the exposure with none of the therapy.” Phil was more than happy to oblige, going through as many notes and books as he could find on the subject — which admittedly wasn’t many — before he’d actually felt confident enough to meet with Dream about it. And now here they sat, both of them overly nervous.

Phil had never done this before, not really. The closest he had ever gotten was half-attempted conversations with Wilbur, who was always flighty and evasive about any problems he might be having. Dream at least was still sitting here. But Phil had no idea if he was going about it the right way. Should he make it this… official-looking? Should he make it more casual? What was actually going to help Dream?

“Alright,” Philza said at last, and Dream quickly looked up at him. “Dream, are you still good to do this?”

Silently, Dream nodded.

“Gonna preface by making it clear that any time you want to stop, we can,” Phil said. “I would rather we just stop before you start getting too anxious, alright, mate? No one’s going to be upset, we can always try again another day. The goal here isn’t to send you into a relapse or a panic.”

Again, Dream nodded. His hands were still clenched in front of him, scarred knuckles white.

“Let me walk you through the plan a bit, yeah?” Phil shifted in his seat, adjusting his wings to be more comfortable behind him. “There’s a couple different types of exposure therapy, and they all work different with different people. So we may have to experiment a bit. Since you’ve already tried the flooding method, I’d thought we’d start a bit more gradual, if you’re fine with that?” He felt like it was important to repeatedly check for Dream’s opinion, since the boy was already far too hesitant to share it. Dream gave a small nod.

“First off, Dream, I need you to list some things that have you… worried, alright? That you’d like to not be worried about. Can you do that?” Phil ignored the voice in his head that was shouting at him that he was doing this all wrong, that all he was going to do was make things worse. He had to try, right?

You tried with Wilbur, and how well did that end?

Dream shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Despite being the one to ask for this, he looked vastly uncomfortable, nervously picking at the skin around his fingernails. “What do you want me to… say?” he asked hesitantly.

“Just… the things that you think negatively affect you. Situations, physical items, people, places, whatever it might be. Just any worries, anything that makes you nervous. Start with small ones, just little things, and sort of… work up to bigger ones, alright?” Phil wondered if this was too big to start off with, too much to ask to have Dream just list things out like this. But Phil needed to know what exactly Dream was worried about here, and he thought Dream might need it put into words himself.

Dream nodded slowly. “All of them?” he asked.

“As many as you want.”

Dream let out a slow breath. “I don’t like people yelling at me,” he said at last. “Or… scissors. I don’t like scissors. Or — hot… things.” He went quiet for another long moment, before finally looking back at Phil. “Is that enough?” he asked.

Phil nodded. There were more things that made Dream nervous, he knew that. There was so much more. But he wondered if Dream himself knew it, or was able to talk about it. But he wasn’t going to push him for it. “That’s good, Dream. That’s good. Thank you.”

“I think there’s more,” Dream continued. “But I don’t — I don’t know. You have some more on your list, I think.”

Phil blinked. “My — list?”

“The one you and Techno made. For me. Or — about me. I read it.” He didn’t sound particularly… bothered by it. He seemed just about as nervous as he had the entire time. “What do I do now?”

“I’ll… be right back, yeah?” Philza slowly rose, careful not to made any sudden moves that might alarm Dream. “Wait here.”

Phil left Dream sitting in the living room, and went into the kitchen, pulling open a drawer to take out a pair of scissors. This would be… fine, right? They had to start somewhere, and this would give Phil a good gauge for how ready Dream actually was for any kind of therapy. Already, it seemed too soon — Dream, only a few weeks away from Las Nevadas the second time, only a few weeks from genuinely believing that he was inherently worth less than them, that he wasn’t a person. He still had injuries that weren’t fully healed. But injuries of the mind were the most difficult to heal, and maybe the sooner they started on it, the better.

Returning to the living room, Phil carefully set the pair of scissors in the middle of the small table. He didn’t miss the way Dream tensed, shifting away from it.

“Alright,” Phil said, settling back in his chair. “Dream. I want to be clear that I am not going to hurt you, alright? No one here is going to hurt you.”

“I know,” Dream said. His eyes were still fixed on the scissors. “I — I know.”

“Then why do you look nervous?” Phil asked gently. “Be honest, it’s alright. All your thoughts.” If there was anything Dream was, it was honest. Beyond not speaking, or simply not being aware of his own well-being and insisting he was ‘fine,’ Dream almost always answered them honestly. Sometimes, Phil wondered if he was even capable of lying to someone anymore.

“It feels like you’re going to hurt me,” Dream said slowly. “But — you’re not. I know you’re not. Right? I’m not — you’re not punishing me?”

“Right,” Phil affirmed, feeling a pang. Did Dream still think, after all this time, that he would ever hurt him? “You’re fine. No one’s upset. But… you’ve been hurt by them before?”

Dream didn’t answer for a moment. “Sir used them a lot,” he said at last.

“Sir. Quackity?” Phil already knew the answer to that.

Dream didn’t respond.

“Can you call him by his name? You do know that… ‘sir’ isn’t his name, yeah? You can call him by his name, he’s not above you, mate.”

“I’m not allowed to,” Dream mumbled. He still hadn’t looked away from those scissors.

“You’re ’allowed’ to do whatever you want,” Phil reminded him gently. “That includes calling him by his name.”

Dream shivered, finally looking back at Phil. “Do you want me to?” he asked.

“It might be… good,” Phil said slowly. “To not think of him like that anymore.”

“I’m not allowed to,” Dream repeated.

“What will happen if you do?”

“I’ll get — punished,” Dream said hesitantly.

“By who?” Phil asked. “Not by me. Not by Techno. And Quackity isn’t here. He can’t hurt you, alright?”

Dream dropped his gaze back down to the scissors.

“What do you think will happen if you call Quackity by his name, right now?” Phil asked gently.

Dream didn’t answer for a moment. “I don’t know,” he whispered at last. “I don’t know. I’m not allowed to.”

“You’re allowed to do whatever you want, Dream, remember?”

There was a long stretch of silence.

“Do you want me to?” Dream finally asked again. “Do I have to?”

“You don’t have to listen to anything I say,” Phil reminded him. “You are your own person, and you don’t have to listen to me. But, again, I do think it will help. If you want it to.”

“I don’t want to,” Dream said. “Please? It —“ He broke off, dropping his gaze. “I feel like you’re going to hurt me,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t. I don’t —“

“That’s alright, Dream,” Phil said gently. “That’s alright. Just think about it, yeah?”

Dream nodded without looking up. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. His shoulders were hunched, his arms hugging his chest. He wasn’t looking well. It was time to move on from this particular trauma.

“Okay,” Phil said, shifting his tone a bit. “Moving on, back to these.” He gestured at the scissors. “They were on your list.”

“Yes.”

“How do you… feel? Physically, I mean, not your mind right now.”

Dream stared at the scissors for a long moment. “My chest hurts,” he said at last. “Here.” He touched his sternum. “It… I can’t… breath? Really?” He slowly raised his hands in front of him. “My hands are shaking,” he said. “But… I don’t think they ever… stop?” He dropped his hands again, looking up at Phil. “Is that… good? I mean — it’s not good. But am I good? Did I do good?”

“You’re doing very well,” Phil assured him. “Just doing this at all is a huge step.” He shifted his wings behind him. “Dream, is it alright if I feel your breath and heartbeat? I promise I won’t hurt you.”

Dream hesitated, opened his mouth, then shut it.

“What is it?” Phil promoted. “You can ask, no one’s upset.”

“Can you — get rid of them?” Dream asked in a rush. “Please? If you’re going to — to do that. I don’t want you to — I don’t want them there. Please. I — I don’t….” He trailed off.

“I can definitely move them away a bit,” Phil assured him. “They do still need to be… where you can see them, for this exercise to still work, but I’ll move them where I can’t reach them.” He slowly rose, picking up the scissors, and setting them on the windowsill, before coming back over to Dream. “Can I put my hand on your chest?” Phil asked again, hovering his hand over Dream’s chest.

Dream’s eyes were locked on the scissors, but he nodded.

Philza carefully settled one hand over Dream’s heart, another on the side of up his ribs. He didn’t miss the way Dream tensed on the contact. “You’re alright,” Phil assured him. Dream’s heart rate was overly quick, and his breaths were as well, shallow and uneven. “Can you match my breathing here? Just in, hold it, and out, yeah? With me.”

He took deep, slow breaths, repeating to Dream to follow him. “While you’re breathing,” Phil continued, “I do want you to think of something that makes you feel safe, alright? A person, a place, a situation. Just where you feel safe.”

The minutes ticked on, until Dream’s heart rate finally started to slow, his breaths steadying. At long last, Phil drew back, stepping away from Dream. “Your heart is much slower now,” Phil said. “And your breathing. That’s good. How do you feel?”

“…Fine,” Dream said. “I’m fine.” He blinked, as if startled by something. He looked up at Phil. “I’m… fine.” he said again. He touched a hand to his chest, and took another slow, deep breath, before letting it out again, like it was a test. “Breathing doesn’t usually work,” he muttered. “When I’m trying to — to calm down.” He looked over at the windowsill, at the scissors still resting there. His hands clenched.

“Can I ask what you were thinking of?” Phil asked gently.

Dream looked back at him. “Techno,” he said blankly. “What… what else would I think of?”

Phil blinked. “Alright. That’s good, that’s really good, Dream.” After a moment, when it became clear Dream wasn’t about to say anything else, Phil said, “You’ve done really well, mate. You’ve done really well. Are you feeling alright?”

Dream slowly nodded.

“I want you to start doing that, alright?” Phil said. “If you’re ever around something that makes you nervous, or anxious, try to breathe, and try to focus on a calm, safe place. Remember that you’re safe. Can you do that?”

Dream nodded again.

“Okay,” Phil said. “Then I think we’re done for today.”

***

“How’d it go?” Techno asked, later that night, when Dream was already asleep — or at least pretending to be. The two of them were in Techno’s living room, sitting by the dying fire that was the only light in the room.

“Good,” Phil said slowly, “I think. Pretty sure we are on the right track, though.”

“He didn’t freak out or anythin’?” Techno checked.

“Got a bit nervous is all. But we were able to calm him down fairly easily.” Phil hesitated. “He… hasn’t ever called Quackity or Sam by name, has he?”

“Not that I’ve heard,” Techno said. “I dunno. I thought he’d… eventually stop, I guess.”

“He told me he wasn’t allowed today,” Phil said, frowning slightly. “Kept saying it. That he would be punished if he did.”

Techno sighed, letting his head fall against the chair back. “I keep hopin’ we’re past all of the ‘I’m gonna get in trouble’ stuff,” he said. “But Dream is still… there, isn’ he? Still in Las Nevadas.”

“At least part of him.” Phil sighed. “It’s hard; he was there for so long. And it’s not like our approach to help him change is as… aggressive as theirs was. So change might come a bit slower.”

“But he’ll be fine,” Techno said, looking directly at Phil. The words sounded almost like a question. Like a plea for someone else to confirm it for him. “I know he keeps sayin’ he’s fine, and I really, really wan’ him to be, but if he’s still not even calling them by name after weeks of being away —“

“Mate, I still have nightmares about killing Wilbur,” Phil said gently. “I know you still have then about your execution. And bad though they might have been, they can’t hold a candle to what Dream went through.” Phil rose, setting a hand on Techno’s shoulder. Techno grasped it. “It’s only been a few weeks,” Phil said. “Just a month or two. He was stuck in Pandora and Las Nevadas for who knows how long. But we’ll get there, mate. We’ll get there. He’s already doing leaps and bounds better than he was when he first got here.”

“Yeah,” Techno said, staring into the fire. “Yeah. We’ll get there. An’… I know we never really, fully discussed it, but… even after he gets… better… you fine with him stayin’ here?”

Phil laughed softly. “Techno, it’s your house, mate. You can have whoever you want living here. But of course I don’t mind. You know I wouldn’t let anything happen to him. I care about him too, y’know.” He couldn’t save everyone. He couldn’t help everyone he cared about — a button and explosions and a symphony forever unfinished — but maybe, maybe they could help Dream.

Techno squeezed Phil’s hand, then released it, pushing himself to his feet. “I appreciate that,” he grunted. “Really, I do. ‘Cause I worry about ‘im, y’know. I dunno if he’ll ever be who he was before, and I dunno who he’s gonna turn out to be now. But I’d feel a whole lot better if I knew for sure he can stay here as long as he needs.”

“Even if it ends up being forever,” Phil assured him. “I’m with you, mate. I’m with you.”

Chapter Text

Dream went out on his own.

Not far. He was still within clear view of Techno’s house. But he had been feeling overly tense, overly cramped all morning, and wanted to get out. He didn’t even ask Techno for permission! But he did tell him that he was leaving. And then… stand there and wait for Techno to tell him it was okay. But he didn’t ask him for permission! Philza would call that progress, right? In their therapy sessions, which they had had several of now, he would call it progress.

Dream let out a slow breath, watching it plume out in front of him, as he sat on the cold rocky edge under a small cliff, looking out over the snow-covered field. His hands felt numb, and he was shivering. How long had he been out here? Long enough that he thought he felt hungry. When had he last eaten? Maybe he should go back. Techno might be worried about him, and that was the last thing he —

“Hey.”

Dream jumped, just about falling over, frantically searching for the sound of the voice.

A tall, odd person in a suit, looking like he was split in color down the middle, was standing there. He wasn’t wearing armor, didn’t have any visible weapons, and his arms were crossed tightly across his chest. He looked equal parts determined and nervous.

(That was how he usually looked.)

All in all, he didn’t look all that threatening, but — still. He was a person, Dream didn’t know him, and Dream most certainly didn’t trust that he wasn’t about to go and kill him.

Dream’s gaze flicked over towards Techno’s house before darting back up to look at the person. Should he call for help? Should he run? (Should he fall at his feet and beg for mercy —)

“Techno says you don’t remember me,” the man continued. “Or anything else. Which is — weird, because that’s usually my thing. But, uh, hi. I’m Ranboo.”

Ranboo. Dream thought he remembered him. From days — weeks? No, it had to be just days ago. He had visited Techno. Techno had called him a friend, hadn’t he? He said Ranboo wouldn’t hurt him — right?

Dream didn’t know how to respond, so he just looked at him. What did Ranboo want with him? Maybe he was actually here to kill him. Dream’s chest tightened. Part of him thought Ranboo had good reason to. The other part of him could have sworn they were friends. But, of course, that was absurd.

Ranboo shifted uncomfortably. “Is it okay if I… sit?” he asked, gesturing at the frozen ground next to Dream.

Dream nodded. What else was he supposed to do, say no? He could say no to Techno now, he could say no to Phil, but something told him that if he said no to Ranboo, he would end up with a sword in his chest.

Carefully, Ranboo settled himself down a good several feet away from Dream, awkwardly crossing his legs. There was a long pause. Dream didn’t look at Ranboo, who seemed almost as hesitant to make eye contact as Dream was. “So,” Ranboo finally said. “Um. How’ve you… been?”

Was that a trick question? Was he supposed to answer? Was he supposed to lie?

Dream forcefully reminded himself that he was a person, he could do whatever he wanted, and no one was going to hurt him. Well. Ranboo might. But either way, Dream was still a person. He could hardly be a good person if he couldn’t even say one word to someone he didn’t know. Techno said he didn’t talk to many people, but he still talked to some people. So Dream needed to be able to do it too. “I’m… fine,” Dream said carefully, his voice slightly hoarse after so long of not talking. After a moment, he returned the question hesitantly, because that’s what a person would do, “…You?”

“Wh — oh, yeah, I’ve been good, good,” Ranboo said hurriedly. “Yeah. Very fine. Just been… hanging out with my good friend and all of his highly dangerous nukes, it’s been great, I am very fine and very well protected.”

Dream nodded slowly. He wasn’t sure why Ranboo was telling him this. Did Ranboo have someone he needed to protect himself from? Oh. Wait. No. Dream apparently used to hate him. Right? Maybe Dream was supposed to apologize. That’s what a person would do, right? “Techno says we didn’t get along,” Dream said abruptly. “I don’t — remember that. But… I’m sorry.” He clamped his mouth shut before he could say anything else, like call Ranboo sir. He couldn’t risk making Ranboo upset, didn’t know if the man would accept Dream’s attempted apology, didn’t know what he would do next.

“…Yeah,” Ranboo mumbled. “Okay. Thanks. I guess.”

There was another long stretch of silence that Dream didn’t have the courage to try and break again. He just sat there, arms wrapped around his knees, eyes flicking between Techno’s house and Ranboo. What did Ranboo want with him? He’d answered his questions, he’d asked Ranboo questions, he’d apologized — what else was he supposed to do?

“I helped get you out of Las Nevadas,” Ranboo said abruptly. “The, uh, first time, I mean.”

Dream nodded. “I know,” he mumbled. “Techno told me.” He felt slightly dizzy, which — he was sitting down, he was fine, so he shouldn’t.

“Oh, okay, okay, cool. Did he… um… tell you anything else about me?” Ranboo asked, his fingers drumming over a thin book in his hands. It was his memory book. He wrote down things that happened in it, so he wouldn’t forget. Like Dream did, on occasion. Then Dream wondered how he knew that.

“He said you were friends. And to give you space,” Dream said. A beat later, he thought maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. He didn’t need to answer Ranboo, did he? Then why did it feel so wrong to not? He needed to listen to him. Or — no. He didn’t have to listen to anyone he didn’t want to.

He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t know what Ranboo wanted from him, but he did know that every second he spent with him, he wanted to leave more and more. But was he even allowed to?

“I mean… I appreciate the space,” Ranboo said slowly. “I had to work stuff out, y’know, because — I mean — we weren’t… friends.”

Dream didn’t answer. Techno said he did have other friends, probably. And Dream wanted to go find them. At some point. Except… if it would be anything like how this conversation with Ranboo was going… maybe not yet. But maybe his friends would be easier to talk to than Ranboo was. He felt like he at least needed to try.

“But I won’t tell anyone about you,” Ranboo added hurriedly. “I thought about this a lot, and I won’t. Like. I don’t like you, but I wouldn’t tell anyone you’re here.”

Still, Dream remained silent. He couldn’t feel his fingers anymore, and he didn’t know if it was from the cold or something else. He felt lightheaded.

“I just wanted to let you know,” Ranboo said. He tapped his fingers on the cover of his book again. “I don’t really… like you. And if you try to hurt anyone I care about again, we’re gonna have — problems — but I’m not gonna do anything if you don’t.”

Dream looked away. What did Ranboo think he was going to do? He didn’t even know Ranboo, not anymore. Didn’t know anyone Ranboo cared about. He certainly wasn’t going to go and try and harm him. That’s not what a good person would do. He wanted this conversation to be over. He didn’t want to be here anymore. “Is that — all?” he asked, his voice low. He dimly registered that his hands were shaking.

Ranboo stiffened, and gave a slightly nervous laugh. Fear shot through Dream — what did he do? What did he do wrong? “I mean — kind of, yeah. I dunno. Did you… should I have said something else? Wait, no, I don’t care. I mean. I dunno. Sorry. Yeah, that was… that was about all I’ve got.”

“Okay,” Dream muttered, shoving down his fear. He shifted positions on the ground. “I don’t….” He trailed off. Started over. Ranboo wanted an answer, and Dream was going to give him an answer. “I don’t want to do anything — bad. To you. Or… anyone. I’m sorry if I… did before.” That was the answer Ranboo wanted, right? That was what a good person would say, right? Right? Either way, it felt right to say it.

Ranboo blinked. “Oh. Okay. Um. Glad we’re on the… same page there,” he said awkwardly. “A nice, mutual ‘let’s not hurt each other’ truce, or something.”

“Or something,” Dream mumbled. He wanted to be done with this conversation. He braced a hand against the rock face, forcing himself to his feet. He started to say something else, but all the blood rushed to his head as he rose, and he pitched forward, the world going dark.

***

There was a loud, frantic knocking on the door, before it banged open, and Ranboo’s voice called, “Techno?”

“Heh?” Techno rose, across the room in two strides, alarm surging in his chest, because Ranboo never greeted him like this. “What —“

“I don’t know!” Ranboo said, his voice clearly panicked. “I don’t — he just fell over, I don’t —“

Techno reached the hall, and halted abruptly, staring at Ranboo half carrying, half dragging a clearly unconscious Dream.

“Prime,” Techno muttered. He took Dream from Ranboo, carrying him into the living room, settling him on the couch. Ranboo trailed after him. “What happened?” Techno asked, touching a finger to Dream’s neck, feeling his quick, irregular heartbeat.

“We were — talking — and he just — he stood up, and he was saying something, and he just fell over,” Ranboo said in a rush. “I don’t know. I didn’t — that wasn’t me, was it?”

“What were you talkin’ about?” Techno asked, trying to shove down his panic, because Dream was fine, he would be fine. He wasn’t waking up, and his breathing was shallow, and he had a bloody scrape on his forehead from where he must have hit the ground, but he would be fine.

“Just — making sure we were — on the same page about stuff,” Ranboo said, his voice rising slightly. His tail flicked behind him, the way it did when he was nervous. “I mean — I sort of maybe threatened him a bit, but not like — I wasn’t mean about it, I promise! I just — he said he wouldn’t do anything, and I don’t — I don’t think he would. Is he fine? Prime, I didn’t kill him, did I? I didn’t even touch him, I swear!”

“You’re — fine,” Techno told him, forcing down his protective anger and fear once again. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t threaten him, though.” He briefly gripped Dream’s cold, scarred hand. “He’s not always great at rememberin’ to eat; I’m sure it’s just… low blood sugar or somethin’. Yeah. He should be… fine.”

“You do not sound convinced at all —“

“He’ll be fine,” Techno said again, more forcefully. “He's just — the guy is so bad at takin’ care of himself, Ranboo, it’s so sad. But he’s… he’s gettin’ better.” He stared down at Dream, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. After a moment, he said, “I appreciate you bringin’ him back in, Ranboo.”

“Well, yeah, I mean — I don’t really like him, but you do, you said he was your friend, and I wasn’t gonna just — just leave him out in the snow,” Ranboo said. His tail flicked back and forth.

“Yeah, but still. I appreciate it.” Techno retrieved a cloth and a potion from a nearby chest, and dampened the fabric with regen, starting to clean the injury on Dream’s head. “How’d he… react to talkin’ with you?” Techno asked slowly. Dream had seemed pretty against wanting to talk to Ranboo earlier.

“He didn’t… say much,” Ranboo said. “He said he was sorry. So that’s nice. And he said he didn’t have any evil nefarious plans or anything — or something like that.” He hesitated, then asked, “The — scar — under his eye. That wasn’t… that wasn’t there before. Was it.”

“Nah. That was… recent,” Techno said, his voice dark.

“That’s… not great,” Ranboo said awkwardly. “Is he… doing any better? I didn’t really know how to ask him that, but he’s not still like….” He trailed off. “Is he any better?”

“He’s gettin’ better,” Techno said. “He’s a determined guy, Dream. He can probably do just about anythin’ he sets his mind to. He’s makin’ progress.”

“Towards… being a good person? Or being a slightly terrible person again.”

“The first one,” Techno said flatly. “He’s not a bad guy, Ranboo. He’s really not.”

“He’s killed —“

“I feel like we’ve had this conversation already,” Techno said, checking Dream’s injury. The shallow wound had stopped bleeding, the regen potion doing its work well. “He’s not —“

Dream’s eyes flew open and he lurched upright, just about smacking his head into Techno’s before Techno jerked back. Dream staggered to his feet, one hand braced against the wall, his breaths quick and shallow. His eyes were panicked, flicking around the room, taking everything in as he struggled to figure out what was going on. The sight was painfully familiar.

“Hey,” Techno said, ignoring Ranboo’s startled curse somewhere behind him. “Dream. You good? You with me?”

Dream didn’t answer. His eyes had landed on Ranboo, and he stiffened. Techno could actually see his pupils dilate.

“Hey,” Techno said gently, touching Dream’s hand.

Dream flinched, looking down at Techno’s hand. Several seconds ticked by, before something registered in Dream, and some of the tension left him. Dream gripped his hand, his eyes flicking over to Ranboo, then back to Techno.

“You remember Ranboo,” Techno offered, slowly rising, still letting Dream grip one hand, and gesturing at Ranboo with the other. “He said you… passed out?”

Dream dropped his gaze.

When it became clear Dream wasn’t going to say anything, Techno turned back to Ranboo. “You’re probably fine to go,” he said in a low voice. “Thanks again.”

“Wh — oh. Yeah, yeah, okay,” Ranboo said. He fidgeted with his sleeve cuff. “Do either of you… need anything?”

Dream glanced at Techno, clearly waiting for his response. Which… he shouldn’t. He should be past that by now, shouldn’t he? He shouldn’t… defer to Techno for things, he should be making his own decisions.

Inwardly, Techno sighed. “I think I’m good,” he said. “Dream?” he asked, in a last-ditch attempt to get Dream to actually say something.

Dream shook his head. He still wasn’t looking at Ranboo, and he was still trembling.

Ranboo nodded. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll be… at my house, I guess. Techno, are we having any… meetings… soon? Niki asked me the other day.”

“I wasn’ plannin’ on it,” Techno said. “Unless either of you wanted to?”

“I mean — not really. My most concerning problem is… I guess not really a problem right now?” He eyes flicked over to Dream. “Unless we still wanted to do something about… y’know. Las Nevadas.”

“I’ve been considerin’ it,” Techno said. “I mean. It’s a pretty prime example of a corrupt government, so I do have issues with it bein’ around.” He glanced at Dream, whose gaze was still pinned to the floor. He didn’t really seem to react to what Techno was saying. “Then we should probably have a meetin’ soon, huh.”

“Probably.”

“I’ll let you know,” Techno said. “Unless you want to go and plan one? It’s not like I’m in charge or anythin.’”

Ranboo laughed nervously, backing towards the door. “No, no, I’m good, I’ll just show up.” He pulled opened the door. “Bye, Techno, Dream,” he said, giving a small wave.

“Byyye,” Techno called after him as the door closed.

Dream didn’t say anything.

“Hey, you good?” Techno asked, turning to him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Dream flinched, before nodding.

“Ranboo didn’ do anythin,’ did he?” Techno checked. Whatever Ranboo’s personal feelings were about Dream, he didn’t think the Enderman would actually do anything to hurt Dream — at least, not intentionally.

Dream shook his head.

“Dream, you know you can always talk,” Techno said. “Are you okay?”

“Sorry,” Dream whispered. “I’m fine. Sorry.” He let go of Techno’s hand, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. “Can I — go?”

“You can do whatever you want,” Techno said. “You know that.”

Dream nodded, already edging towards the hall. “Sorry,” he mumbled, and disappeared into his room, leaving Techno looking after him.

Chapter Text

Dream didn’t leave his room for the rest of that day. But the next time Techno saw him was at breakfast the next morning, and he seemed… fairly back to normal. Maybe a bit tense, a bit quiet, but still… fairly fine.

But a few days later, Niki stopped by to ask Phil something about building. And while Dream barely interacted with her, and Niki didn’t do anything at all authoritative or alarming, Dream still reverted back to his silent, shaky compliance for a long time during and after.

From this, and from how he still acted around Ranboo, Techno had come to an unfortunate realization. While Dream was getting better, he was mostly getting better… around Techno and Phil. He had mostly accepted that they weren’t going to hurt him, that he didn’t have to obey them. And Techno had thought that meant he would feel that way about anyone else, too. That he had accepted his own humanity, his own free will.

But he hadn’t. Or at least… not really.

Finally, Techno felt he had to ask him about it, to better understand what Dream was feeling. He didn’t want to keep guessing, not when it could be harmful to Dream. He went on a walk outside with him a few days after Niki visited, his two foxes trotting along at his heels.

“So,” Techno said after a long stretch of silence, and Dream looked up at him. “Dream. Uh. You mind if I ask you something?”

Fear flitted briefly over Dream’s face — Prime, Techno should have phrased it better — before he nodded.

“Nothin’ bad,” Techno assured him. “Just…. You know when Ranboo came by, and then when Niki also came over, right?”

“Yes,” Dream said slowly. His face was red with cold, his scars standing out starkly against his skin. He had at least accepted the cloak Techno had offered him.

“You know they wouldn’ hurt you,” Techno said. “They’re friends of mine, and they’re good people. They wouldn’t hurt you. And you don’ have to listen to ‘em.”

“I know. You said so.”

“You seemed….” Techno hesitated over the word for a moment. “Nervous.”

“Oh.” Dream stared down at the frozen ground. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be… nervous. Around your friends.”

“It’s not that,” Techno said. “Not worried about — what they would think or anythin’. I’m worried about you.”

Again, that flash of panic came over Dream’s face, before it was gone. He rubbed one hand over the other, picking at his nails. “I’m fine,” he said. “I’m sorry if I made you… worry. I try not to.”

“You just… act different around them than you do around me an’ Phil,” Techno said. “I’m not upset or anythin,’ I’m just trying to understand it. Why they make you nervous, if Phil an’ I don’t.”

Dream paused, looking at Techno. “I know you won’t hurt me,” he said blankly. “So it’s easier to — to not listen to you. Or not listen to what — Sir told me to do.”

“Ranboo and Niki wouldn’ hurt you,” Techno said. They might have been enemies with Dream before, but Techno trusted his friends not to hurt Dream, not when he had asked them not to.

“Not if I’m good,” Dream said. Perhaps seeing that Techno was feeling very lost, he added, “You don’t punish me either way. With Sir, it didn’t — it didn’t really matter, I don’t think? But anyone else — I don’t know. So I have to be good.” He scanned Techno’s face. “You’re upset,” he said, nervousness tinging his tone. “I — I’m not being a good person, am I? Are people… the same with everyone?”

“No,” Techno said slowly. “I mean, yeah, you’re bein’ a good person, you’re fine there. It’s normal to be nervous around people you don’ know, or don’ trust. I mean, I’m not gonna act the same around… Quackity, or someone, than I act around Phil. But Niki and Ranboo aren’t gonna hurt you.”

“They might,” Dream said doubtfully.

“They wouldn’t,” Techno assured him.

“I don’t want to do something wrong,” Dream said. “If I do something wrong with you, you don’t get mad at me. You never get mad at me, and I don’t — I don’t get it. But if I did something wrong with someone else, they might get mad at me, and I can’t —“ He inhaled sharply. “I can’t be bad.”

“Ranboo didn’ get mad at you, when you talked with him the other day,” Techno pointed out.

“I know,” Dream said. “Because I said the right things. That he wanted me to say. So he wouldn’t get mad at me and kill me.”

Techno blinked. The matter-of-fact way in which Dream talked about his own death was not something that he thought he could ever get used to. “You thought Ranboo was gonna kill you?”

“I… I don’t know. I don’t know. I know you said he wouldn’t, I just… I had to be good. So I was good,” Dream said, almost desperately. “I said the things that would make me be good, and so he wasn’t mad at me.”

“…Did you do that with Quackity too?”

Dream hesitated. “I had to,” he said. “I had to always be good. I wasn’t — I wasn’t always good at it. But if I was good, then Sir wouldn’t hurt me as much, so I just had to be good.” He quickly looked at Techno, then away again, over towards the snow-covered mountains. “Being good here is different than being good for Sir or the Warden,” Dream said slowly. “I’m being a good person here. I wasn’t a person before. But it’s still just… being good. Just differently.”

“Gonna add the mild correction that you were a person before,” Techno said firmly, “they just didn’ treat you like one.” He shifted his hoof through the snow, and one of his foxes jumped at it. He nudged it aside. “You don’ always have to make everyone happy. You can do what makes you happy, and what you think is right, not what you think is gonna make someone else happy.”

“I’m not arguing with you,” Dream said, because he seemed to think that prefacing his arguments with that made it safer for him, “but… if I make someone upset, they’ll punish me. Or — or just hurt me. Or get mad at me. So I need to make them happy. I just… I just want everyone to be happy.”

“No one here is gonna be upset enough at you to hurt you, Dream,” Techno said.

“What if I — killed someone?” Dream asked. “Or… or did something else? I don’t know. But someone would get mad at me, and then they would hurt me, and I don’t want that. So I can’t make them mad, so I have to be good. I don’t know how to — to talk to people anymore. I wasn’t allowed to in Las Nevadas. I would just have to stand there. But people talk to people, so I have to talk to people, so I have to be good.”

Techno… really wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Because Dream wasn’t really wrong. Techno knew it wasn’t a good idea to bend over backwards to try and tell everyone exactly what they wanted to hear. But he also couldn’t promise Dream that no one was going to hurt him if he didn’t do that. Because someone probably would hurt him for it, if he said something wrong, or came across as too threatening, or inadvertently offended them. But you couldn’t just desperately lie to everyone and tell them what you thought they wanted to hear all the time. That was no way to live.

“You can be nice to people without lyin’ to then about how you feel,” Techno finally said. “Just… generally be nice and polite and stuff, and things will usually work out just fine, at least with the Syndicate. You don’ have to go and lie to people about how you’re feelin’ just to make them happy.”

“I don’t want to make them mad at me,” Dream whispered. He hesitated. “I… I want to be able to talk to people. And see other people. Because I’m a person. So I need to be able to talk to people, and… and maybe I had friends? But I don’t want them to get mad at me.”

“If they get mad at you, that’s on them,” Techno said, shrugging. “You don’t have to lie to make people feel better. That’s not your responsibility.”

“What if they get mad at me?”

“You can just apologize. Say you didn’t mean to make them upset, or hurt their feelin’s or whatever. But lyin’ to people all the time about how you feel isn’ a great way to be your own person, y’know? Because then you’re just bein’ whatever they want you to be, not what you want you to be.” He ignored Chat yelling at him about how he never apologized for anything. He apologized for the important stuff! Other people were usually the ones betraying him.

Dream was quiet for a long moment. “Did I do that before?” he asked. “Before — Pandora. Because you remember me from before Pandora, right? Was I nice to people? But still — what I wanted to be?” He sounded almost hopeful.

Techno half-chuckled. “Dream, you were a lot of things, but you definitely didn’ lie to people to spare their feelin’s. I feel like you always had some kinda master plan goin’ on, but you were always pretty straightforward about what you wanted, and how you felt about stuff.”

“And people didn’t hurt me?”

“Uh. So… I’ll be fully honest here, I think you bein’ threatenin’ was what made people put you in Pandora,” Techno said awkwardly. This conversation was taking an unfortunate turn. How the heck was he supposed to help Dream learn social cues? Techno was terrible with social cues.

“So… I shouldn’t lie to people to make them feel better,” Dream said, like he was finally figuring it out. “Because that’s not what people should do. But if I’m honest with people, they’ll feel threatened, and then they’ll put me back in Pandora.”

Techno groaned. “Dream, that’s not — okay, I mean, technically, yeah, sure, that did happen once. But you can still be honest with people, you don’ have to lie to them.”

“But you said that made people put me in Pandora,” Dream protested. “And I’m not —“ He inhaled sharply. “Techno, I would rather kill myself than go back to Pandora. I know I said I wouldn’t kill myself, but I — I think I really would. Unless you told me not to. So I might — mostly lie to people. Still. So they don’t get mad at me. Maybe just… just a little honesty. If you — is that okay?”

One of his foxes was barking for his attention, and Techno bent down and patted it on the head. He hated feeling so — stuck. “If that’s what you wanna do, Dream. Up to you, up to you. But you don’ have to lie to anyone about how you feel, if you don’t want to. The average person is not gonna swear vengeance on you if you say one mildly ‘wrong’ thing, especially with the Syndicate. And, to be clear —“ He straightened, looking Dream dead in the eye. “If anyone tried to put you back in Pandora, I would do absolutely whatever it took to get you back, even if it meant tearing the prison down block by block. You don’ ever have to worry about being trapped in there again. Got it?”

Dream looked up at him, some unidentifiable emotion flickering across his scarred face. “Got it,” he whispered.

Chapter Text

“Okay,” Techno said. “Let’s try this again. You ready?”

Dream nodded. His hands were clenched at his sides. It was several days later, and, once again, they were in Techno’s room, at Dream’s insistence that he wanted to try again.

“Remember, you don’ have to listen to me, alright?” Techno reminded him. “No one’s gonna be upset.”

Again, Dream nodded. He felt irrationally nervous.

“Okay,” Techno said. He sighed. “Okay. Dream —“ and his voice hardened, raising slightly “— down.”

Dream stepped back, eyes darting to the side, panic shooting through him when he realized he hadn’t listened — Prime, he was going to be in so much trouble, he was going to be punished, he was doing to be hurt, he needed to —

“—eam, Dream, hey, Dream, you still with me?”

Dream blinked rapidly, taking another step back, pulling away from Techno’s hands on his arms. “I — I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’ be sorry; you did it,” Techno said. “‘member? You wanted this. We both wanted this. You did good, alright?”

“I did it,” Dream realized, and the feeling of panic fled. He did it. He didn’t listen. He did good. “Can you do it again?”

“…Sure. I can do that.” Techno sighed. “Dream, down.”

Dream’s eyes flickered to the side, to where Techno’s sword was on the wall, but he didn’t move. He didn’t move. He was doing so good.

“You’re doin’ really well, Dream,” Techno said, sounding utterly relieved. “You’re doin’ really well. Are we good to finally stop this now? You know I don’ like telling you to do things.”

“Can you tell me to do something else?” Dream asked quickly. “Just — anything, I don’t know.”

Again, that sigh. But Dream already knew Techno didn’t like doing this, but he also knew he was willing to do it anyway, so he disregarded it. “Come here.”

Dream shifted, but thought better of it, and didn’t move. “I’m doing — really good,” he said. “Right? I’m doing good.”

“You’re doin’ very good,” Techno assured him. “Are we good to stop doin’ this?”

“I just needed to know I wouldn’t listen,” Dream assured him. He rubbed one hand over the bracketed smile burned into his wrist. “And — and I won’t, so it’s fine now.”

“You’re so fine,” Techno promised. “Are you… d’you need anythin’ else?”

Dream shook his head, backing towards the door of Techno’s room. “I just wanted to check,” he said. There was a light, giddy feeling in his chest. He didn’t have to listen to anyone anymore. He didn’t have to. He was a person, and he could do whatever he wanted and listen to whoever he wanted and Prime, it felt amazing.

He pulled Techno’s door almost shut behind him when he left, hurrying down the stairs and out onto the front porch. He settled himself on the top of the steps there, his breath clouding in the air in front of him, his hands shaking as he brushed them over the snow dusting the wood planks. He was doing so good. He was doing so good.

But what should he do now?

He’d spent so long dedicating himself to trying to get over everything Sir and the Warden had beaten into him, every command, every fear. But now that he had — now that he was clearly absolutely, one hundred percent fine — what else was he supposed to do?

Techno and Phil never really had work for him to do — he always had to really ask for it, otherwise they would brush him off. So that wasn’t an option.

He could try more to be a person, he supposed. What did people even do? Talk to other people? Have hobbies? Have friends?

He used to have friends, didn’t he? Techno had said so. Dream couldn’t really remember them, but if Techno said he had friends, then he had friends. Obviously.

Could he… go and find them, maybe? He wouldn’t listen to anyone he didn’t want to, and any injuries were long-since healed; any pain he felt on a day-to-day basis was negligible. So clearly he could go out and find his friends and it would all be fine. And maybe his friends would know more about past-him than Techno did, and Dream could figure out if Sir was really wrong or not — he could learn what he had done wrong before, if it really was all deserved.

Dream wrapped his arms around himself, looking out over the snow-covered yard in front of the cabins. It couldn’t be that hard to find his friends, surely. The Server wasn’t that big, and Dream already knew to stay away from Las Nevadas and Pandora, so that narrowed down the search radius by quite a bit. Sure, Sir had insisted that he didn’t have any friends, that everyone hated him, that everything that had happened to him was deserved, but — but that was Sir saying it. Techno told him differently, and if he was going to believe anyone, he was going to believe Techno.

So. It was decided: Dream was going to go find his friends. That was a perfect step to being more of a person. Techno should be happy about that, right? He liked it when Dream was more of a person. But he also didn’t like it when Dream left. Maybe he wouldn’t be happy? Should he ask Techno to come with him? No, he didn’t need to do that. He was a person. He didn’t listen to anyone he didn’t want to, and he wanted to do this by himself, because people did things by themselves. Dream couldn’t remember the last time he’d done anything by himself, and he needed to fix that.

It was a great plan. It was such a great plan, and there was really nothing he needed to worry about for it. All he needed to do now was tell Techno.

***

“Can I — I’m going to leave,” Dream announced that evening.

Startled, Techno looked up from where he was sharpening his sword. Dream had been quieter than usual the past several days. He’d still been doing therapy with Phil as well, and he had seemed better. He was getting better, so why was he — he wasn’t really leaving, was he?

“Not forever,” Dream hurried to say. He shifted positions slightly. “Just — I maybe had friends. Maybe not. But maybe I did. And there’s — there’s other people, and I want to know that I’m not going to — to listen to them. So I want to leave and go find them.”

“You sure?” Techno asked slowly.

Dream nodded. “I want to see — other people, I think.” His gaze flicked to the window, to the setting sun. “I want to know more about me. Or — who I used to be. So I can know who I’m supposed to be now. And I don’t think I can do that here.” He looked back at Techno. “I — I’ve been wanting to. For a while. But I didn’t know if I would… listen to them. But now I know I probably won’t, so I can go do it.” He shifted uncomfortably, nervousness tinging his tone as he added, “Is that — that’s okay, right?”

“You can do whatever you want,” Techno assured him. “You’re fine, you’re fine. D’you… d’you want me to come with you?”

“Maybe — not,” Dream said hesitantly. “I — I think I want to do it by myself?” He sounded so woefully unsure about it. But Techno figured that was more to do with the fact that Dream rarely felt he was ‘allowed’ to do things by himself. If he was the one asking, then he probably did want to go alone.

“It might be safer if Phil or I came with you,” Techno said slowly.

“But people do things by themselves,” Dream said hesitantly. “Right? I think?” He hesitated. “I don’t ever do things by myself. And I — I want to. I really do want to.” Another pause, and then — “Unless you don’t want me to. I — I don’t have to, I don’t have to go, you can go, it’s not —“

“Dream, it’s fine,” Techno said, firmly but gently cutting across him. “I don’…” He really didn’t want to say it. But he wasn’t going to force Dream to let him come with him. “I don’ have to come. Solo adventures can be pretty pog too.” He shoved down the fierce protectiveness that rose up at the idea of Dream going off by himself somewhere, with countless people who probably wanted him either dead or back in prison. It wasn’t a good idea to let Dream go off on his own, but — but. He wasn’t going to ‘let’ Dream do anything. He didn’t have that kind of authority over him, and he didn’t want it, either. “But you’re plannin’ on comin’ back?” he checked.

“I live here,” Dream said in surprise. “Where else would I go?”

Techno blinked. Dream said a lot of things very matter-of-factly, and the vast majority of them were rather horrifying. To hear him say that he lived there like it was obvious, like he considered it the place to come back to… it made something feel tight in Techno’s throat.

“And you’ll be safe?” Techno asked roughly after a moment.

“I think so,” Dream said. “I don’t know. Yes?”

“There’s probably people who’re gonna want to kill you,” Techno warned. “I still think it might be better if Phil or I came with you. Or you at least brought a weapon or somethin’. I dunno how much you used a sword in Las Nevadas, but if you wanted one —“

“I used a sword all the time,” Dream assured him. “The Warden would have me kill mobs a lot.” He glanced out the window again. “I don’t want to kill anyone, though. And I don’t have a sword now,” he added.

“I can give you one,” Techno said. “Or an bow, or a axe, or whatever you —“

“I don’t want an axe,” Dream said abruptly. His voice was shaking slightly. “I — I don’t want an axe.”

“Just a sword then,” Techno said. “D’you want a horse? Might be a bit quicker — and safer — than walking.”

“I don’t know how to ride a horse,” Dream said, his voice steadying. “I wasn’t allowed to.”

“Ah. Makes sense, I guess. I can re-teach you when you come back, if you want. Because you are gonna come back, right? And you’ll be fine?”

“I’ll come back,” Dream promised.

“Sam’s gonna try to put you back in Pandora,” Techno said slowly. “A lotta people might, actually. I’ll be honest, I dunno how safe it is for you to go, Dream. Not if you won’ recognize half the people who don’ like you.”

“But you said you’d get me out,” Dream said blankly. “You said that. If anyone put me in Pandora, you said you’d get me out. So I don’t need to be worried about it.”

For the second time in that conversation, Techno was at a loss for words, his throat tight. He wasn’t blind to the fact that Dream was placing a staggering amount of trust in him. He had said he would rather die than go back to Pandora’s Vault. But now he seemed fully fine with the idea of going off alone, with the risk of getting sent back there, because he trusted that Techno would get him out.

“…When are you leavin’?” Techno asked.

“The morning,” Dream said. “I think.” He rubbed a hand over the opposite wrist, at the scars there. “Last time I left, you wanted me to wait until morning.”

“You’re not gonna go to Las Nevadas again, are you?” Techno checked, alarm rising in his chest.

“No,” Dream said quickly. “No. I don’t — I think he would tell me to kill myself,” he said, more slowly. “And I don’t want to do that. So I’m not going there. I just want to go find my maybe friends.”

“Right,” Techno said. “And, I mean — you wouldn’ listen to him, if you saw him again, right?”

“I didn’t listen to you,” Dream pointed out. “I don’t know. I don’t want to see him.”

Techno nodded. He had a thousand worries, a thousand reasons why Dream shouldn’t go off wandering the SMP, but he couldn’t tell him to just not go. He wasn’t going to force Dream to stay if he wanted to leave. Besides — despite what Chat was screaming at him, it wasn’t like last time. Dream was doing so much better now, and he had every intention of coming back. And he would come back. He would be fine. “Can we at least set you up a stasis chamber this time?” he asked. “It’d make me feel better.”

“If you want me to,” Dream said. “I don’t — I don’t want you to worry,” he hurried to say. “I just — I need to see if I have any other friends still. Or see who I was before. Then I’ll come back. I’ll really try not to get killed.”

“Alright,” Techno said. “Then let’s set up a stasis chamber for you.”

Chapter Text

The morning Dream left was chilly and sunny, the frosted eaves dripping onto the half-melted snow.

It felt far too much like the last time he left, and yet very different. Because this time, Dream was coming back. He had brought things, too. Food and potions and a newly-crafted diamond sword. He felt much better about this journey than the last one.

Techno, he thought, still seemed very worried about it, but was trying to hide it. Philza too. Both had offered to come with him, and Dream had said it was fine. But they really didn’t need to worry — he would be fine. He wasn’t going to Las Nevadas, he was so much better at not listening to people, and they had set up a stasis chamber for him that they agreed to activate if he wasn’t back in a few days. What was there to worry about?

He could run into Sir. Or the Warden. And they could drag him back to Las Nevadas, or Pandora, or just have him kill himself. But Dream wasn’t going to do that. He hadn’t listened to his orders from Techno, and so he wouldn’t listen to them from Sir or anyone else either.

Dream kept the goodbyes short. He didn’t want it to feel like he was leaving forever. Phil left sometimes. Techno left sometimes. Ranboo and Niki were usually gone. So it didn’t really matter that much that he was leaving too. People traveled all the time. Techno was worried, and he hugged Dream for probably longer than he needed to, but he let him leave without protesting it.

Dream left Techno and Phil standing in their yard, and walked until the forest was no longer coated in snow. Then he slowed to a stop, taking out his book. He hadn’t used it in a while, but he still occasionally took it out to scribble down memories and events so he wouldn’t forget them.

He flipped through the pages, skimming over the jotted notes of memories and information from his time with Techno and Phil, and stopping on the page about people he supposedly knew. Sir, the Warden, Techno, Phil, Ranboo — everyone he either knew or had heard of was listed there, along with what Dream knew about them, or knew what his relationship to them was. Because while he did think his memory was getting better, he still didn’t think it was good, and he certainly didn’t trust it, so he referred back to this book to either write new things down, or refer back to other things to check that his memory was correct.

He slowly went down the list. There was the Syndicate, of course, but he didn’t need to go find them. There was Sir. And the Warden. But he didn’t want to find them. He probably would be fine if he never saw them again. Unless… they were doing fine without him, right? They probably were. He wondered — worried — about it sometimes. How they were managing without him. But since they hadn’t come to try and find him, his previous owners were probably fine. He didn’t want to find out.

Then there were the people on the list that he didn’t really know. People that Sir or the Warden had mentioned in Las Nevadas, but that he’d never really seen — Foolish, Fundy, Wilbur. People that Techno or Phil had talked about or referred to — Karl, George, Sapnap, Tommy, Tubbo. Dream had very little information on any of them, except for vague ‘they maybe don’t like me’s written underneath.

Except that maybe George and Sapnap — possibly Karl? — had been his friends? The ‘Dream Team’ Techno had called it. Unless they had helped put him in prison. And then not visited him. But since Techno and Philza didn’t know, and Dream had absolutely no memory of the event, he might just have to try it. Techno seemed to think they were maybe still his friends. Should he have asked Techno to come with him? Maybe asked Techno to… draw a picture of the people he should avoid?

Dream was starting to think he should have planned this better.

Why had Techno let him go by himself? He clearly hadn’t wanted to. But Dream needed to be a person, and he couldn’t always be a person with Techno, so he had to do it by himself. He didn’t need someone always there, telling him what to do. He didn’t. He really didn’t.

(Right?)

He looked back down at his book.

The only other options were Tommy, who Techno and Ranboo said he had killed before and should probably leave alone, or someone like Wilbur, who he had absolutely no information on other than Philza knew him and Sir found him infuriating. At least with the ‘Dream Team,’ they were maybe his friends.

Dream decided he would go find them.

If it went badly, he had a stasis chamber set up in Techno’s basement, and Techno could just bring him back.

He started walking again, and it took him until late evening to realize that he really had no idea where they might live. Or where anything on the SMP was. Or where he was even walking to.

Maybe he should have asked Techno to come with him after all. Maybe he should just go back and ask him to. But no — he could do this. He hadn’t really done anything that he could remember without either Sir and the Warden, or Techno and Phil. He wanted — needed — to prove that he could do things by himself. That he didn’t need to listen to anyone. So he needed to figure this out. He was a person.

Dream stopped, considering a nearby tree. He could get a good view from up there, right? Maybe see if anyone was nearby. How hard could climbing a tree be? Somewhere high above him, a crow cawed loudly.

Dream got about halfway up the tree before he had to pause, gasping for breath, his arms shaking and his leg throbbing with pain. He was panting, feeling slightly dizzy, shakily brushing his hair out of his eyes. Why was he so tired? He really shouldn’t be. He had done far more strenuous things in Las Nevadas, and wasn’t he always fine there? He couldn’t quite remember, and the effort made him feel even more exhausted, so he gave up.

He looked down at the ground, up at the light fading from the sky, and then kept climbing.

By the time he got to the top, he was breathless and dizzy, his hands unable to grip the branches without sending jolts of pain up his shaking arms, his legs throbbing with pain every time he moved them. He fell back against a branch, gasping, one hand pressed over his chest. Why was he so weak? He should be fine, shouldn’t he? He hadn’t been this weak in Las Nevadas. He wasn’t allowed to be, at least. Strength potions tossed at him if he was unable to finish a task, or a swift kick to his ribs to motivate him to get a move on.

As he sat there, gasping, trying to regain his breath, trying to get over the pain in his limbs, he wondered if his repeated punishments were maybe part of the problem.

But no one had been hurting him in a long time. And he hadn’t done anything strenuous in a long time. All he’d been doing for months was sometimes walking around, and he’d been totally fine. So shouldn’t he be fine? He was being bad.

Dream shook himself. No, he wasn’t being bad, he was just being weak. He was a person. He was fine.

He finally tore his attention away from his aching, throbbing body, and looked out over the trees. He couldn’t see any trace of the arctic anymore, of snow. He couldn’t see Las Nevadas either, having purposefully walked a different direction. But in the red dusk of the setting sun, he could see a glimmer of light from somewhere through the trees. A building of some kind, or several, just barely peaking over the plant life surrounding them. There were more, smaller lights scattered around it, through the trees. Someone had to be there. And maybe they knew him.

Dream started down the tree, and got a good distance down before his foot slipped. His throbbing, shaking hands scrabbled at the bark for a moment before he lost his grip entirely, and crashed to the ground.

For a long time, he couldn’t register anything over the ringing in his ears, the pain that was making it impossible to breathe.

Slowly, the pain dimmed enough for him to get a full breath, and he forced himself to his feet, bracing one hand against the tree. His chest hurt. All of him hurt, really — it never really stopped — but especially his chest. Was something broken? He didn’t —

“Dream?”

Startled, Dream whipped around, eyes wide. Who was —

An unfamiliar person stood not twenty feet away, a lantern in one hand, a violet book with an odd symbol on it in the other. His hoodie bore the same spiraling icon, and he looked an equal mix of startled and tired. Snow was dusted in his hair, which was odd, considering Dream had left the snow behind hours ago.

“You are Dream, right?” the young man asked, suddenly worried, frowning slightly. “Or Clay?” He fumbled the lantern for a moment, sliding it over his arm, before flipping open his book, skimming through it. “You’re usually wearing a mask,” he said, after a moment of staring at a page. “I don’t remember the scars, but… yeah. Definitely Dream. What’re you doing out here?”

This person knew him. This person knew him. And… they didn’t seem to hate him? So… were they friends?

“I —“ Dream broke off, inhaling sharply. His chest still hurt. “I was just — visiting. People. I don’t… remember your name?” Was that a weird thing to ask people who might be your friend? Probably. But he had to figure out who this was as quickly as possible, so he could figure out what he knew about them and if they were going to try and kill him.

“Karl,” the man said. Then, once again abruptly worried, “Do we not know each other? Prime. I thought — am I not home? Isn’t this —“

“I do know you,” Dream said, relieved. Karl was on his list. He was his friend, maybe, according to Techno. “Is… is your house near here? There were — lights.” He hesitantly pointed through the trees.

Karl turned in a slow circle, and then let out a huff of relief. “No, yeah, I’ve been here before,” he said. “I — sorry, Dream.” He half laughed. “It’s been a weird day. Never mind. C’mon; I dunno if I’ve ever given you a tour of Kinoko Kingdom. I think you’ll like it.”

He started off through the trees, and Dream, feeling wholly relieved to have found someone who was actually his friend — on his first try, too, and all by himself — followed him.

Chapter Text

“So what’ve you been up to lately?” Karl asked as they walked towards Kinoko Kingdom, Dream trailing slightly behind him. “I feel like it’s been forever since I last saw you.”

“I’ve been with Techno,” Dream said, and then wondered if maybe that wasn’t the best answer. Maybe Karl didn’t like Techno. Maybe he would be mad at him. Maybe he was going to turn around and kill him and —

“That’s fun,” Karl said off-handedly. “How’s that been?”

“It’s — good,” Dream said, relieved. He had said the right thing. Or at least not the wrong thing. And Karl didn’t get mad at him, and he wasn’t going to punish him, and Dream wasn’t being a bad person. “What… what have you been doing?” he asked hesitantly, because that’s what a person would ask. He took a breath. His chest still hurt. Most of him still hurt, actually. But that was normal, and he shoved it aside.

Karl shrugged. “Traveling around some. Reading. I live in Kinoko Kingdom now, so that’s fun. Helped build it with Sapnap and George, and it’s really coming along! You’ll like it.”

“Sapnap and George,” Dream repeated. Techno said they also might’ve been his friends. Or they might have helped put him in Pandora. One of the two.

“Yeah. Oh! They’ll be so excited to see you,” Karl said, picking up his pace a little. So they must actually be his friends, then. “George is… probably asleep, but, y’know, we can wake him up. Maybe in the morning. You staying the night?”

Dream blinked. “Do you want me to?” he asked. He really hadn’t thought that far ahead. Maybe he should have.

“Sure. Kinoko’s huge, we have plenty of rooms. I dunno if Sapnap is even home, so that’s one less person staying here.” Karl stepped through a parting in the trees, and moved to the side, gesturing grandly. “Welcome to Kinoko Kingdom, Dream,” he declared.

Dream stared up at the ornate buildings lit with dozens of lanterns, the carefully tended-to walkways, the towering mushrooms. It looked nothing like the arctic, nothing like Las Nevadas. This place looked like it was half nature, half man-made. “It’s… big,” he said.

“D’you like it?” Karl asked, looking over at him with anticipation.

Dream… really did not. It was big and dark and unfamiliar and he strongly disliked it. But Karl did like it, and Karl said he had helped make it, and Karl was his friend, and Dream didn’t want Karl to get mad at him. So he lied. “I like it,” he said. “I like the… lanterns.” Which… wasn’t even a lie, really, because he did like the lanterns, which made it significantly less dark.

Karl beamed at him. “Thanks. Those were my idea — really brings it all together, y’know?” He moved forward again, and Dream almost tripped over his own feet hurrying to follow him.

This was going well. This was going so well. Dream had successfully found someone who used to know him, who was his friend. And he didn’t hate him, and Dream was doing so well at talking to him, and not making him mad at him, and he wasn’t even lying that much to avoid making him upset. Sure, he was in a dizzying amount of pain from climbing and then falling out of that tree, but he brushed it aside; it really wasn’t that important, compared with his success in finding Karl. Or — Karl finding him, he supposed. But Dream had done it! And no one was even telling him what to do.

Karl led him down the winding paths of Kinoko Kingdom, still chatting the whole time, until they eventually reached a low house with an ornate red roof, which Karl pushed open the door for and walked inside. Dream followed him, glancing all around the room in a few quick seconds to try and take it all in, making note of the fancy furniture and the three windows and the two unknown doors.

“And you said you’ve been with Technoblade, right?” Karl asked, setting his lantern and his book down on the counter, and turning back to him.

“Yes,” Dream said, wrenching his attention back to Karl. “He’s… we’re friends?” He didn’t know why it sounded like a question.

“That’s fun,” Karl said. “What’ve you been doing up there? It’s been… a while, since we’ve seen each other? I think? Oh, you can sit down,” he added, gesturing at a chair by the counter. “I’m gonna make some dinner.”

Dream slowly sat down on the chair, relieved to finally be able to take the weight off of his leg, which was throbbing with pain. “I’ve been doing… things,” he said.

He tried to think back, to what might be a normal friend thing that people did. What was normal? What would Karl think was normal? He’d been doing therapy a lot with Phil. But then Karl might ask why he was doing therapy, and Dream really didn’t want to talk about that. It might upset Karl. And just thinking about the reason was making the trembling in his hands worse.

“I… helped plant a garden,” Dream offered. Which wasn’t even a lie, because he had done that, with Phil. He’d helped him drop seeds into the ground with shaking hands, had carefully poured water over top of them. “I haven’t been doing a lot,” he said, and was almost… disappointed with the realization. People surely did things, didn’t they? Dream really didn’t feel like he’d been doing that much lately, not since leaving Las Nevadas. He had always had a job to do there, even if, thinking back on it, most of them were fairly miserable experiences. Except he wasn’t supposed to be miserable about it. They weren’t so bad, really, if Sir or the Warden were pleased with him. Except they rarely were.

“I’m so bad at taking care of gardens,” Karl said, pulling Dream out of his mind again, as he started taking out various ingredients. “It’s sad, honestly. I wish I was better at it, though — glad you’re getting into it, it seems like fun.”

“What about — you?” Dream asked, very keen to get the conversation off of him and his present life. He wanted to know about his past life, and he wanted to know about Karl, but he didn’t want to talk about who he was now. It really wasn’t — he really wasn’t anything worth talking about. “You said you were… traveling?”

A shadow crossed over Karl’s face, and Dream immediately regretted the question. Karl shook it off. “Yeah, just around,” he said. “Nowhere you would’ve heard of. But I’m glad to be back,” he added firmly. “I prefer it here.”

“You said you built it,” Dream remembered. “Kinoko Kingdom. How did you… Do you want to tell me about it?” he tried.

Karl apparently did, because he launched into the story about the founding of Kinoko Kingdom, and how he, George, and Sapnap had ended up there, and how they had built it up. “Though, Sapnap’s not around much now,” Karl admitted, setting a bowl of soup in front of Dream, and another for himself. “And George is asleep most of the time. So it’s nice that you’re here — gets a bit… lonely, sometimes.”

“Being alone isn’t — great,” Dream said, his mind flashing back to the hours and hours he spent alone, in the dark, chained to the floor in the basement of Las Nevadas. “People are — nice. Usually.” Some of them were, at least.

“Yeah, I get that,” Karl sighed, dropping down into his chair, and immediately resting his head on Dream’s shoulder. “Prime, I’m tired,” he yawned. “Dream, tell me to eat something before I pass out.”

“You should… probably eat something,” Dream said, who had stiffened as soon as Karl touched him. Why was he laying on his shoulder. Why was he touching him. Was this what friends did? Techno didn’t do this, not really. Neither did Phil. Only in very small amounts, or if Dream did it first. What was Karl doing? He didn’t want him there, he didn’t want him touching him, he barely knew him, why was he — but he couldn’t upset Karl, he couldn’t do that, he couldn’t make him mad. So he let out a breath and forced himself to be fine with it, despite the awful feeling crawling over his skin.

“Yeah, yeah,” Karl sighed. He pushed himself upright, and Dream relaxed minutely as Karl picked up his spoon.

Dream waited until Karl started to eat, and then started on his own bowl of soup. It was — good. It wasn’t like anything that Techno or Phil would make, and it tasted far too good for anything that Sir or the Warden would give him, and… he liked it.

Karl ate all of his in about five minutes, and then declared that he was going to bed, tossing his bowl in the sink. “There’s a spare bedroom somewhere around here,” he said, starting down the hall. “C’mon.”

Dream pushed himself to his feet, and almost toppled over as all the blood rushed to his head. He steadied himself, blinking rapidly to clear his vision, then hurried after Karl.

“Here you go,” Karl said, pushing a door open. “This looks right. Unoccupied, at least. Make yourself at home.”

Dream stepped into the room, noting with relief that it had a light. It looked nothing like his room at Techno’s cabin, but it had a bed, and a dresser, and a window, and that was a relief too.

Without warning, someone’s arms wrapped around him, and laid their head on his shoulder. Dream froze, panic flaring in his chest.

“I’ve missed having friends around,” Karl mumbled. “I missed you, Dream, y’know? I’m glad you’re here.”

Dream didn’t say anything, panic making his throat tight. He didn’t want Karl hugging him, he didn’t want him touching him at all, he needed to — Karl wanted an answer, Dream was going to give him an answer, he couldn’t make him mad, he needed to — “Please stop,” he whispered, and Prime, he wasn’t supposed to say that, he didn’t mean to say that, Karl was going to be so mad at him —

Karl drew back, moving back into Dream’s line of sight. “Sorry,” he yawned. “But, hey, I did miss you, y’know.”

“I — you too,” Dream said, forcing the words out, though they sounded choked and fake even to him. “Sorry,” he said. “Sorry. I’m — tired?”

“Same,” Karl sighed. “I’ll see you in the morning, Dream. I’m just down the hall,” he added, pointing. “Wake me up if you need anything, alright?” He stepped out into the hall, then, when Dream failed to say anything, paused, frowning slightly. “You seem… different,” he decided. “You alright, Dream?”

“I’m fine,” Dream said quickly. “Sorry. I’m fine.”

Karl’s eyebrows twitched together in what looked like concern. “You didn’t really have all those scars before, did you?” he asked. “I mean… I don’t remember them. Especially this one,” he added, tapping under his own eye. Dream forced himself not to react. He tried not to think about that scar most of the time; it made him feel ill. “I know you usually wear a mask all the time these days, so it’s been a while since I’ve seen you without it, but… still. I feel like I’d remember that.”

“It’s — nothing,” Dream said, shifting back a step. He didn’t want to talk about it. He really, really didn’t want to talk about it. “A lot — happened. It’s fine. I can… I can tell you later?” he tried.

“Alright,” Karl said slowly. “But are you really alright? Did something happen?”

“I’m fine,” Dream said again. “Can I — sleep? Please?”

Karl blinked. “I mean — yeah, sure,” he said uncertainly. “Is there anything you wanted to… talk about?”

“I’m fine,” Dream repeated. “I — thank you, Karl. But I’m fine.”

“Okay,” Karl said, still sounding unsure. But he backed out of the room, and Dream could relax slightly. “G’night, Dream.”

“Goodnight,” Dream whispered. He waited until Karl had vanished down the hall, before slowly nudging the door almost shut. Then, after a moment’s consideration, pushed it all the way closed. He immediately pulled it open again, just to check that he could, before closing it again.

Dream sank down onto the floor by the door, his back to it, exhausted. Prime, he was so tired. He shouldn’t be this tired, all he had done was walk around, climb a tree, and then meet Karl. He shouldn’t be in this much pain, he shouldn’t be this anxious, he shouldn’t let it bother him, and he should be a better friend to Karl, whatever that meant.

Dream abruptly wanted to cry, and he swiped a hand over his eyes. He was fine, he was fine. He was being a good person — wasn’t he? But he was lying to Karl, acting like he knew him, acting like he remembered him, when he really had absolutely no idea who he was. But they were supposed to be friends, and Karl clearly knew him, and had missed him, and so why couldn’t Dream? He should be fine with Karl hugging him, or asking him questions, so why wasn’t he? It was fine when it was Techno; why not with Karl? He almost wished Techno was here. He really should have just asked him to come. But no — he needed to do this by himself, to prove that he could. To prove that he could be a person.

He should just tell Karl about Las Nevadas, just tell him that he didn’t remember him at all. But just the idea of doing that filled him with dread, because what if Karl got mad at him? What if he got mad that Dream had been lying to him, that he didn’t remember him, that he had apparently done awful things that made them throw him in Pandora in the first place? Dream couldn’t have Karl be mad at him. He couldn’t be punished right now. He couldn’t do it. He had been doing so well at making him be happy, and he couldn’t make Karl mad at him. That wasn’t what a good person would do.

If Dream just kept saying the right things, then he could keep learning more about his friend Karl, and maybe even learn about himself, and no one would be mad at him or hurt him, and everything would be fine.

It had to be.

Chapter Text

The light hurting his eyes was Dream’s first sign that it was morning. He squinted at the light falling through the window, and slowly pushed himself upright. It took him a long time to register where he was, why he wasn’t in Techno’s house or the casino.

Karl. Kinoko Kingdom. His friend that he didn’t remember.

Dream hadn’t used the bed, instead spending the night curled up on the floor in front of the door. He didn’t want to risk anyone coming in while he was asleep, and he equally didn’t want to mess up Karl’s bed, so he just opted to leave it alone. It had nothing to do with the fact that Karl hadn’t explicitly told him he could use the bed. It had nothing to do with that.

He felt sore, unused to sleeping on a hard, unyielding floor after so long of sleeping in his bed. But he ignored it, and pulled himself to his feet, bracing a hand against the door.

After a long moment — or possibly several minutes — spent collecting his thoughts, making sure he would be fine, Dream pulled open the door, and edged out into the hallway.

He could hear someone in the kitchen area, and he slowly went down the hall, stopping in the doorway to evaluate the scene.

Karl was the only one in the kitchen, banging around dishes and pans. “Morning, Dream,” he called. “I couldn’t wake George up, but that’s… pretty normal.” He sounded subdued for a moment, before shaking it off. “But Sapnap should be back later today!”

“That’s — good,” Dream said. He realized he was still standing in the doorway, and forced himself to actually walk into the room, going and sitting in the same chair as the night before. “Do you — want help?” he asked after a moment.

“I’m fine, it’s just gonna be eggs and toast or something,” Karl said, waving a hand.

“Are you — sure?” Dream tried, because sometimes Techno would say he didn’t need help, because he thought that Dream offering help might be him ‘not being a person,’ and he didn’t want Karl to think that too.

“Nah, it’s all good,” Karl assured him. “I’ve missed cooking for people. Though… I did want to ask you….” He set down a stack of plates, looking directly at Dream, who dropped his gaze. “What happened?” Karl asked seriously. “I mean — I get if you don’t want to talk about it, maybe it’s a bit early for it too, but — I know it’s been a while, but you’re different, and I feel like something must’ve… happened. So what happened?”

Dream didn’t say anything. What could he say? He didn’t want to lie. But he also didn’t want to make Karl upset. He should tell him the truth. But what if Karl was friends with Sir or the Warden, and he got mad about it? He seemed like a friendly person, so maybe he was friends with them. Or what if he got mad that Dream had been lying about knowing him? He should be honest. He had to be good. But was it worth being good if Karl was going to get mad at him and punish him for it?

“Dream?” Karl promoted, sounding worried, and Dream jumped.

“Wh — sorry,” he said, looking back up at Karl. He looked worried, too. “It’s —“ He swallowed, looking away again. He needed to tell him the truth. He didn’t want to keep lying to him. That’s not what a good person would do. If Karl got mad at him… so be it. Dream could handle whatever punishment he gave him. He could. If he tried to kill him — well. He could always try and run away. Or he had a sword, he supposed. He didn’t want to kill anyone. But he had promised Techno he would come back.

“Dream?” Karl said again, more gently. He touched a hand to Dream’s, and Dream flinched. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, it’s alright.”

Dream shook his head. No, he did have to tell him. Karl wanted to know, and Dream wasn’t going to keep lying to him. “I don’t remember you,” he said in a rush. “I don’t — I was in prison for — a while, and I was — I don’t remember a lot, and I don’t remember you at all, and I’m sorry.” Not daring to look at Karl for fear of what he might see, keeping his eyes pinned to the counter, he hurried on to add, “I really am sorry, and I know that I do know you, and I just forgot, and it’s my fault, and I’m sorry, and you seem really nice and I wish I remembered you, I really do, but I don’t —“

“Hey, hey.” Karl’s hands wrapped around Dream’s, and he finally, finally looked up again. Karl was looking at him with a conflicting mix of concern, horror, sympathy — but not anger. Not disgust. Not hatred. Dream didn’t understand it. “Dream. It’s — it’s alright.”

“I — it’s not,” Dream whispered. “I lied to you, I don’t — I don’t know you, Karl.” He wanted to pull his hands away, but resisted the impulse. Karl was going to hurt him. Surely. He had to be furious, he had to be upset, and Dream was being bad, and Karl was going to hurt him, and should Dream even stop him?

“I get it,” Karl said. “Really, Dream, I really get it. The memory issues thing; you’re not alone. You know I’ve forgotten George before, and he’s literally two buildings over?”

Dream shook his head. “I don’t know who that is,” he mumbled, because Karl might as well know that too.

Karl’s grip on his hands briefly tightened, before relaxing. “What do you remember?” he asked gently.

“Nothing,” Dream whispered. “Or — I don’t know. Nothing real.” Bits and pieces, maybe. Flashes of things that seemed almost familiar. But he’d spent so long forcing away any disjointed memories that somehow surfaced because he wasn’t allowed to remember, because it only made his life in Las Nevadas feel so much worse, that it felt so much harder to drag up any memories of his life before Pandora. Did he even want to remember? He hadn’t been a good person, then. He wanted to be one now. Maybe it would be better for everyone if he never remembered.

“What happened?”

“…Please don’t ask me that,” Dream said, because he had already dumped so much negativity onto Karl already, and he wasn’t going to talk about Sir, the Warden, and Pandora’s Vault, and make it even worse. Just thinking about them was making the shaking in his hands worse. “Please don’t.”

Karl slowly nodded. “Okay,” he said. “That’s okay, Dream. We can still work with that. You… you really don’t remember me? At all?” There was something pleading in his tone.

Dream shook his head again. “I wish I did,” he said. “I — I really wish I did.” The look on Karl’s face — the distress, the concern, the care — seemed familiar, and it made his chest ache.

Karl let out a slow breath. “So… how did you know to come here? If you don’t remember me, or George, or… I’m guessing not Sapnap either?”

“Techno said I knew you,” Dream said, hurrying to answer, because every second he spent answering Karl was another second that Karl wasn’t punishing him for lying. “So I wanted to find you, to see if we — if we used to be friends.”

“Technoblade sent you here?” Karl said, sounding surprised. “So you’ve just been with him this whole time? Was he the only person you remembered or something?”

“He got me — out,” Dream said haltingly. “I was friends with him before, too, and I’ve been staying with him. But he said I knew you too, and I… I wanted to know about you. And about — me. Because I don’t know who that is.”

Karl stared at him for a long moment. “I get that,” he said at last. He gave a broken sort of laugh. “I really get that, man. But hey. You don’t have to worry about not knowing you, alright? I’ve known you for ages, and I can fill you in.”

Something like hope blossomed in Dream’s chest. “You’re not — mad?” he asked.

“Why would I be mad?” Karl asked, bemused. “This server is a mess, Dream. You’re hardly the first one here to have memory problems. It’s almost a trend now.”

“I thought you’d be mad,” Dream said slowly. “I’m — I’m glad you’re not, though?”

Karl shrugged, finally, finally moving his hands off of Dream’s. “I’d be a pretty big hypocrite if I got mad at someone over forgetting stuff, Dream. We’re still friends, y’know? Though I dunno what this prison thing is. Who put you in prison?”

“That would be me,” a voice from behind him said coldly.

Chapter Text

Dream lurched to his feet, whipping around, hands braced on the counter, staring at the newcomer standing in the doorway. Did he — no, no, Dream didn’t recognize him. He didn’t. The dark, steely anger looked so, so familiar. He had no idea who this was, but he looked wary and angry and he had a netherite sword and Prime, he was going to kill him. This was all going so wrong, so fast.

“Sapnap!” Karl called, sounding relieved and coming around the counter. “You’re back! What’s wrong?” he added, frowning. “What d’you mean, you put Dream in prison?”

“Do you not remember?” the man, Sapnap, demanded, taking a step forward. Dream shifted to the side, wishing the counter wasn’t behind him, blocking his retreat. “Karl, really? I know you weren’t there for it, but but we’ve talked about it!”

“…Did we?” Karl asked doubtfully. “I dunno, I feel like I would’ve remembered that. But, Sapnap, come on, he’s clearly been in prison long enough, I mean —“

“I told you what would happen, Dream,” Sapnap said darkly, ignoring Karl. “I warned you what would happen if you escaped.”

Dream couldn’t breathe. This was bad. This was so, so bad. This Sapnap person was going to kill him. He was going to kill him, and he didn’t even know why. Techno was going to be so disappointed in him; he had promised that he would come back. But Sapnap had promised to kill him.

“Sapnap!” Karl protested, stepping in front of Dream. “What under Prime are you talking about? This is Dream!”

“I know that, Karl,” Sapnap growled. His grip tightened on his sword. “Now get out of the way.”

Karl gaped at him. “What? Sapnap, he was just in prison, he doesn’t — what do you mean?”

“I’m gonna kill him, Karl,” Sapnap said harshly. “I told him, I told him that if he ever escaped from Pandora, I’d kill him. And now he’s gone and broken out, and I’m going to kill him.”

So that’s what he’d done to upset Sapnap. He’d escaped Pandora’s Vault. (“It’ll be me who takes your final life.”) But he didn’t even escape from Pandora — the Warden had taken him out, after a lot of arguing for it from Sir. And Techno had taken him out of Las Nevadas, so that hadn’t been his choice either. Dream felt numb, breaths shallow and uneven. He couldn’t feel his fingers. He should get his sword out, right? Sapnap was mad at him. He was being bad. He needed to apologize. He needed to fight him? He couldn’t fight anyone, he hadn’t been ordered to.

“I’m not letting you kill Dream, Sapnap,” Karl said, his voice rising in anger. “I don’t care what you think he’s done, I am not letting you just kill him!” He took a breath. “Sapnap, whatever happened in that prison, Dream doesn’t — he lost his memory, Sapnap, he doesn’t remember me, or you, or —“

“Oh, sure,” Sapnap scoffed. “That’s convenient.” He stalked forward, and Karl moved back, still in front of Dream.

He should probably apologize. A person would apologize. He shouldn’t really speak unless ordered to. Sapnap — Sir — the Warden — was so angry with him, and he should apologize and make it right before he killed him. He was being bad. He must be being so bad, or else why would they be so mad at him?

“What d’you — Sapnap, he did!” Karl protested. “You’re not seriously going to go and kill him, are you?”

Techno would want him to do something, right? He should get his sword out. Techno had given it to him, after all. He should have asked Techno to come with him.

The diamond sword materialized in his hand, pulled out of his inventory.

Sapnap growled a curse under his breath. “Oh, sure,” he said. “Now you’re gonna threaten Karl, huh? Another innocent hostage, is that it?”

“Sapnap — Dream — what?” Karl demanded. “Dream’s not —?”

Was that what he was doing? He had no idea. He had a sword in his hand, though, and he knew what that meant. He was supposed to fight someone with it, but he couldn’t until he was ordered to. His hand was shaking. All of him was shaking.

“Don’t try and fight me, Dream,” Sapnap growled. “If you have any sense, you’ll drop that sword right now, or I swear I —“

The sword clattered to the floor, released without conscious thought. Dream couldn’t think straight. He was listening, he was being good, he was being so bad, they had to be so mad at him, he was going to be punished and he really didn’t want to be punished —

Sapnap blinked, startled. Which… he shouldn’t be, because he had told Dream to drop it, so what else was he going to do? Wait. No. That wasn’t right.

“Dream!” Karl said urgently, grabbing his arm. “What are you —“

Sapnap grabbed Karl and forcefully dragged him out of the way, half throwing him behind him, and slamming Dream into the wall, his sword pressed against his neck.

Panic overrode all conscious thought, and Dream’s hands flew up to the sword, gripping it, trying to tug it away from his neck, fingers suddenly slippery with something wet and red and, oh, his hands were bleeding now, caught on the edges of the blade.

“I warned you, Dream,” Sapnap hissed, inches from him. His eyes were overly bright, wet. “I warned you what would happen, why could you just — just stay there, huh?”

Dream didn’t answer, couldn’t answer, gasping for breath now, eyes blown wide with panic, wholly unsuccessful in trying to drag away the sword that was digging into his throat, beads of hot blood trickling down his neck, his wrists. He was going to die, he was being bad, he was being so bad, he couldn’t — he was going to die, Sir was finally going to kill him, this was it.

Sapnap was glaring at him, breathing heavily, his hands shaking on the hilt of his sword. “You couldn’t just —“ And he caught sight of something, his words cutting off, eyes fixing on a point somewhere just below Dream’s. His face drained of color.

The sword clattered to the floor, and there were hands on his face, pulling back the skin on his cheek, on the scar there. Dream’s hands went up again automatically, hovering just shy of touching him, knowing better than that. Sapnap’s eyes dropped to Dream’s hands, staring at them, taking them in.

“…Dream?” he whispered. “What… what?” He grabbed Dream’s hand, staring at it, turning it over, eyes wide.

Dream felt like he was going to pass out. The lights were overly bright, he was dizzy and nauseous, and he didn’t know why he wasn’t being killed yet, still gasping for breath.

Sapnap said something else, but Dream couldn’t hear him over the buzzing in his ears, and he no longer seemed to be trying to kill him, at least. He slowly sank down to the ground, one hand pressed against his chest, trying to force himself to breathe, the other still in Sapnap’s grip. Sapnap was on the ground in front of him, he was saying something, he was surely saying something, and he was still gripping Dream’s wrist with painful tightness, but Dream couldn’t hear him.

Karl was there too now, kneeling in front of him, and he looked worried, and he was saying something that Dream couldn’t make out.

He should be listening. He should really be listening, he needed to be good, he needed to do what they were telling him, even if he couldn’t figure it out, because he was being so bad. “Yes, sir,” Dream forced out, trying to slow his breathing to a manageable amount, and failing miserably. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Dead silence.

That wasn’t good. What did he do? What had he done wrong? Sir was never silent like this, what…?

But Techno was, sometimes. If Dream said something wrong, then Techno would go all quiet like this. And then say something gentle like “you don’t answer to them, Dream, remember?” and Dream would remember, because it was true.

Because Dream didn’t answer to them. Because he was a person, and he didn’t have to listen to anyone he didn’t want to. And he didn’t want to listen to Sapnap, who was telling him that he was going to kill him, because Dream didn’t want to die, and anyway, he had promised Techno he would come back.

Dream squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to calm down. He was fine, he was fine. No one was punishing him, he didn’t have to listen to anyone he didn’t want to, he was a person, and he was fine. Phil had taught him how to calm himself down in their therapy, and he had to do that. He needed to think of something that would calm him down, but the only thing he could think of was Techno, and he wasn’t even there. Just thinking about him would have to be good enough. His heart was still racing, and his hands and neck were still throbbing with pain and dripping blood, but he ignored it, opening his eyes again to try and figure out what was going on, and why they were so quiet.

Sapnap and Karl were both staring at him, looking rather horrified. Karl had tears in his eyes, and Sapnap was still gripping Dream’s wrist.

“Sorry,” Dream mumbled. He closed his eyes again, shoving down his panic, and then opened them again. “Pandas. Can you let go of me?”

Sapnap released him like he had burned him, and Dream tucked both hands safely around himself, heedless of the blood. His neck was still bleeding, too, but he needed to figure out if Sapnap was going to kill him before he could do anything about that.

“Dream,” Sapnap whispered. “What… what happened to you?”

“A lot,” Dream answered truthfully, because that was the truth. “A lot.”

“Was that — was it Quackity?”

Was that what had made Sapnap stop trying to kill him? The bracketed smile, burned into his face and on his wrist? Was Sapnap friends with Sir? He didn’t want to make Sapnap upset, if the two of them were friends or something. “Most of it,” Dream admitted, because he couldn’t exactly lie to him either.

“Prime. Prime, I’m gonna be sick,” Sapnap groaned, burying his face in his hands. “He wouldn’t — he wouldn’t really —“ He looked back up at Dream. “He did — this — to you? While you were in prison?”

Dream hesitated. “Y—yes? I haven’t been — there — for a long time, though.”

Sapnap stared at him, looking so lost. “Then where have you been?”

Again, Dream hesitated. How much of the truth was going to satisfy Sapnap? And at what point was it too much, and he would get mad at him? “Las Nevadas,” he finally said. “For a while. I’m not — I live with Techno now. Because he got me out, and he — cares about me. So I live there now.”

“You’re with Technoblade?” Sapnap demanded. “But — Sam said you were in Pandora. He told me, not two days ago, that you were still in Pandora’s Vault.”

Dream didn’t answer. He clearly wasn’t in Pandora’s Vault two days ago. He was with Techno. Why was the Warden lying to people about it? “Are you going to kill me?” he finally asked, because he might as well get it over with. “I don’t — I don’t really want you to, but I — I guess I can’t really stop you?” He felt so utterly disappointed in himself; he’d dropped his diamond sword. He’d discarded his weapon the second Sapnap told him to. He really wasn’t being that good of a person, was he?

“He’s not killing you,” Karl assured him. “Right, Sapnap?” he demanded, glaring at him.

“Wh — yeah. No. I’m not… I’m not.” Sapnap ran his hand distractedly through his hair. “I can’t believe Quackity would do something like this,” he muttered, almost to himself. “He wouldn’t… he wouldn’t.”

“He doesn’t like me,” Dream said, more for his own benefit. Because Sir didn’t like him, did he? Dream had wanted him to. He’d really, really wanted him to. Everything he did, it had been to make Sir pleased with him. But it was never enough, never good enough to last. And he didn’t need Sir’s approval, anyway. He had friends. Probably. He had Techno and Phil, at least. “Are we — friends?” he asked Sapnap abruptly. “Techno said we used to be, but he didn’t know if we still were. Are we?” He glanced uncertainly at Karl.

“We were friends,” Sapnap said, slowly, carefully. “Yeah. We were.”

“But you just tried to kill me. So are we not friends now?” Dream verified. He wanted to get out his book and write down what he’d learned about Sapnap and Karl, but he didn’t want to take it out when they were sitting right there. He also wanted to get off of the floor, but they were right there, and he didn’t want to bother them or make them move. His hands hurt. There was still a lot of blood on them, too. That probably wasn’t good.

“We — we’re not — you hurt a lot of people,” Sapnap spluttered. “You stopped caring about us, you didn’t —“

“When did this happen?” Karl demanded, frowning. “I don’t — I feel like I would have remembered if Dream stopped caring about us.”

Dream shifted positions slightly. Karl had talked about memory issues earlier — did he also not remember things? Had Dream really done awful, terrible things, just like Sir and the Warden said he had, and just neither Dream nor Karl remembered it? What had he done?

Sapnap buried his face in his hands for a long moment. He lifted his head, and asked, tiredly, “Karl, what’s the last big server event you remember happening?”

Karl frowned slightly. “Wilbur’s trying to start a nation or something, isn’t he?”

Sapnap choked a laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, sure. Sure, Karl.”

“Is it — not?” Karl asked sharply.

“That was two years ago, Karl,” Sapnap said. “You didn’t —“

Dream pushed himself to his feet, bracing himself against the counter with a bloody hand, and both Karl and Sapnap fell silent, watching him apprehensively. “What did I do?” Dream asked faintly. “Techno doesn’t really know. He — he said some things. And Ranboo said some things. But what did I do, that made everyone hate me so much? That you let them do this to me, that you were my friend but you wanted to kill me?” He realized his voice had risen to almost a shout, and dropped it again. “What did I do?”

Karl looked at Sapnap. Sapnap pushed himself to his feet, steeling himself. “You really don’t remember,” he said flatly, almost like a question, more like a statement.

“S — he — Q-Quackity said a lot of things,” Dream said, forcing the name out like it was acid, because Sapnap was clearly friends with Sir, and he’d looked so horrified when he’d called him Sir earlier, and he wasn’t going to make him upset again. Even if saying Sir’s name made him want to rip out his own tongue, because he wasn’t allowed to do that. “But I don’t… I don’t know. He said — a lot of things.”

“Like… what?” Sapnap asked. He looked like he was some mix between fury and grief, and Dream couldn’t tell who it was directed at. Was he mad at Dream? Sir? Karl, for apparently not remembering things either?

“He told me I wasn’t a person,” Dream said. The expression of absolute horror that went over Sapnap’s face was… concerning, to say the least, and he immediately tried to rectify it. “But I am,” Dream assured him quickly. “I know that now. That I’m a person. So it’s fine.”

“He told you you weren’t a person?” Sapnap demanded, taking half a step forward. “And you — believed him?”

“He said it a lot,” Dream said, and then felt like maybe he was making excuses, which he really shouldn’t do. But Sir had said it a lot. While he was beating the life out of him. It made it rather hard to forget.

But it wasn’t true. He knew that now, he knew he was a person. And he could do whatever he wanted, and he didn’t have to listen to anyone he didn’t want to, because he was his own person. Which reminded him that Sapnap really hadn’t answered his question. “You didn’t tell me what I did,” he said, before Sapnap could keep asking him more questions. “That made you hate me.”

“That — that’s what you’re worried about right now?” Sapnap half-shouted. “Quackity tortured you, he made you think you weren’t a person, you don’t remember anything, and you want to know that?”

“Yes,” Dream said. He edged back along the counter a bit, his hands still slippery with blood against the quartz. “I know how I — left Pandora. Because the Warden and S—Q-Quackity took me to Las Nevadas. A long time ago. But I don’t know why I was there. And you do. So — so can you tell me?”

Sapnap was just staring at him. “But I’ve… been to Las Nevadas,” he said. “Quackity’s country. I’ve been there. And this whole time, you were just… there? And he… hid that from me?”

“Yes,” Dream said again. “Why were you trying to kill me?”

“I — I told you. In Pandora. I visited you; I told you that if you ever escaped — I’d kill you,” Sapnap said haltingly. “I’d take your last life.”

“I didn’t really… escape, though,” Dream said. So people had visited him in prison. He just didn’t remember it. Sapnap was finally giving him answers now; this was good. It almost made this whole awful experience worth it. Well. Not really. “So it’s fine. But why did you hate me, if we were friends?” He could ask actual questions with so much more confidence now, because it really seemed like Sapnap was done trying to kill him. And Karl had never been trying to kill him. So it was really just a normal, fine conversation. Friends probably had conversations like this all the time. His heart was still pounding in his chest, his skin crawling with phantom pain, and he really just wanted to get as far away from these two as possible, but he really needed to get over it, because he was clearly fine.

“You… you hated us first,” Sapnap said, his voice cracking, before he steadied it. “You stopped caring about it. You cared more about those stupid disks, about power, than you did about us, and you —“ He broke off, let out a breath, then continued, his voice shaking slightly. “We had to lock you up. For the good of everyone else, and… and for you. I thought….” He trailed off. “I thought prison would help you. That you would realize you were wrong, that you didn’t need to —“ He broke off again, shaking his head.

“You thought that locking him up in prison to be tortured,” Karl said slowly, “was better than trying to help him?”

“We tried!” Sapnap shouted, and Dream flinched. Prime, maybe he really shouldn’t have kept asking questions. Maybe Sapnap was going to kill him after all. “We tried, you tried, you really don’t —? We tried,” Sapnap whispered, deflating. “Prime. Prime. Dream, I didn’t… if I had known this was what was going to happen, I never would’ve….” He trailed off, blinking rapidly, before almost throwing himself at Dream, wrapping his arms around him in a tight embrace.

Dream stood motionless, panic making his mind go blank. What was he doing. What was he doing? Why did Sapnap and Karl both do this? He didn’t want them hugging him, he didn’t want them this close to him; it made him feel like they were going to plunge a knife into his back and he didn’t want that to happen. Why wouldn’t he let go of him? Sapnap’s fingers were digging into his back, and he was shaking. Or maybe Dream was shaking. He couldn’t really tell. It was different than when Techno hugged him. Because he knew Techno wasn’t going to hurt him. But Sapnap had been at least one of the people to send him to Pandora in the first place, and he was still hugging him, and his fingers were pressed against a scar that apparently still really hurt, and Dream couldn’t breathe.

Dream moved his hands up to Sapnap’s arms, and gently tried to tug him away. Sapnap released him, stepping back, and, oh, he’d been crying. That… wasn’t great.

“Your hands are still bleeding,” Sapnap said roughly. He swiped a hand over his eyes. “Which is… also my fault.” He let out a shuddering breath. “Let’s… fix that, alright?”

Chapter Text

“Can I have the sword back?” Dream asked, looking down at it from his seat at the counter. He thought he would probably take it whether or not Sapnap said he could, because he was a person and he could do whatever he wanted, but maybe if he asked first, Sapnap wouldn’t get mad at him again.

“Nightmare?” Sapnap said, looking up from the chest he’d been digging through. “It’s — yours. Technically. I just… got it from Tubbo. But it is yours.”

“The diamond one,” Dream clarified. He really, really didn’t want a Netherite weapon. “It’s Techno’s.”

“I… yeah?”

“Here,” Karl said, taking the sword and setting it on the counter, and then taking Dream’s hands gently in his. Again. “You shouldn’t really be using a sword until we can get your hands fixed and everyth —“

“Can you please stop?” Dream interrupted, before he could think better of it.

“Th—what?” Karl said, looking lost. He drew back, and Sapnap looked up, straightening, a potion and a roll of bandages in hand. “What did I —?”

“Nothing,” Dream said quickly. “Nothing, never mind, I’m sorry. Sorry. Never mind.” He stared down at his hands, which were still steadily leaking blood all over Karl’s shiny quartz counter. He’d really made both Karl’s and Sapnap’s days so much worse by being there, by being such a problem, and here he was making a fuss about them touching his hand or hugging him. He was being weak. He was supposed to be fine. A person would be fine with it. Part of him thought he’d used to be fine with it.

“What did I do?” Karl repeated, and he sounded upset, and Dream really couldn’t make him upset.

“Nothing,” Dream said again. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Sorry.” He still felt so on edge, so high-strung, and he was so painfully aware of how much he had already made them both upset, and how little he could afford to keep doing it. Yes, they had stopped trying to kill him, and yes, they hadn’t gone to get Sir or the Warden, but that didn’t mean that it wouldn’t change. They had been his friends before and then still sent him to Pandora, so what was stopping them from doing it again? He should leave. Before he overstayed his already limited welcome.

“What happened?” Sapnap asked, setting the bandages and the potion on the counter, and touching a hand to Dream’s, and Dream reflexively jerked his hands back. Sapnap’s hand hovered in midair for a moment, before he lowered it. He again looked that uncomfortable mix of distraught and furious, but his voice was steady when he asked, “D’you want me to put bandages on your hands? Or do you want to?”

“I can do it,” Dream muttered, and took the roll of bandages and the regeneration potion, trying to will his hands to stop shaking. It took him several attempts to pull the cork out, and he really wished Karl and Sapnap would stop staring at him, and then at each other. They were having a silent conversation that he wasn’t privy to, and he didn’t like it. At least when Sir and the Warden were talking about him in front of him, they did it out loud. He remembered that. Loud conversations — arguments — for what Sir wanted to do to him, and what the Warden said he would ‘allow.’

This would have been so much better if Techno was there. Techno would have helped him bandage his hands, and he would be careful about it, and he wouldn’t touch him if he didn’t want him to, and — it would just be better if Techno was doing it.

Dream poured some of the regen potion over one hand, then the other, and the reddish liquid burned as it absorbed into his skin. The numerous cuts started to scab over, and Dream slowly started to wrap the bandages over his palms. He couldn’t wrap the cuts on his fingers that well, but just poured more regen on them. Yes, it would hurt, and yes, his hands would probably bother him for weeks even after they were healed, but he knew from experience that it would probably be fine. He’d had all of his fingers meticulously broken before, one by one, with awful, agonizing slowness, and they had healed just fine, hadn’t they?

Well. They still hurt. But it was fine.

Dream carefully rolled up the remainder of the bandages, and pushed the cork back into the bottle, before sliding them both back across the counter to Sapnap. He took a breath. “I should — go,” he said.

“G—what d’you mean, go?” Sapnap demanded. “Why?”

Dream shrunk back. That was a mistake. That was such a mistake. He should take it back.

He didn’t take it back.

“I don't — live here,” he said.

“But you could,” Karl said, reaching out a hand again, and then drawing it back. “We could keep you safe, Dream, we could make it work, it — you said you wanted to know about you, right? We could do that.”

“We can fix this,” Sapnap said. Almost desperately. “Just — give me a chance, Dream, I swear I can fix this, I can make it right.”

“Can you?” Dream asked doubtfully, and Sapnap looked like he’d been slapped in the face. “I don’t — I’m sorry,” Dream said quickly. “I didn’t — mean it. I don’t know. I’m sorry. But I don’t — but you… you let them do this to me. In Pandora. And you thought it would — help me.”

“I didn’t — I thought prison would help you see that you were wrong, not this!” Sapnap flailed a hand at him, indicating — what? Everything about him? Everything that the Warden and Sir had made him into? Everything that Techno had helped him make himself into? Which was the part Sapnap didn’t like?

Was it the fact that Sir, one of Sapnap’s friends, had been the one to do it? Was it the fact that Sapnap had helped condemn him to this? Or did he actually care about Dream at all?

“I’m — leaving,” Dream said. More firmly this time. “Both of you are just — upset with me, and I don’t — and I’m leaving.”

“We’re not upset with you,” Karl protested. “We — Sam and Quackity are the ones who —“

“I didn’t mean to —“ Sapnap started.

“You said I stopped caring about you,” Dream said, interrupting them, which was rude, but he didn’t want to be there anymore. “And if I did, I’m sorry. But you — you said we were friends, and you thought it was helping me, and they — and they almost killed me, so many times they almost killed me, and you never even tried to —“ He cut himself off. “You didn’t… try. Once I was in Pandora, you didn’t even… you didn’t care either.” He pushed himself to his feet, and took Techno’s sword back with trembling hands. “I wish I could remember you,” he said, his voice shaking. “I really wish I could. I’m sorry I was — bad — enough that you thought this was — good for me.”

“I never thought that!” Sapnap protested. “I swear to Prime, Dream, I never knew this was happening! Sam told me you were just in prison, that everything was fine, he didn’t —“

“But you didn’t try,” Dream said. “Techno tried. He… got me out. And he didn’t — put me there. So I’m — I’m going back. To him. Because I live there.”

“I never wanted this to happen, Dream,” Sapnap said, and his voice cracked. “I never, never wanted you to have to go through something like this.”

“But you were going to kill me,” Dream said. “If I… left. You were going to kill me today, too, but S—Quackity was the one that stopped you. Not… you caring about me.” He subconsciously touched a hand to the scar on his cheek, then shook his head, backing up several steps. The sword was still in his hand.

“Dream…,” Karl tried.

“Techno had to tell me that was my name,” Dream said, and he didn’t know why he said it, or why it felt — good? — that Karl and Sapnap both looked so horrified. “I didn’t remember it. Nobody called me by it there. But Techno did.”

“We can figure something out, Dream,” Sapnap whispered. “We can make it work, I just — let me make it up to you, let me make this right.”

“I don’t think you… can,” Dream said slowly. “I’m… doing that without you.” He took a breath. “I’m leaving now, though.” He drew himself up slightly, shoving down the fear that rose up in his chest. “Are you going to — let me?”

“We’re not… we’re not going to stop you,” Karl said, and he sounded on the verge of crying again.

Dream looked at Sapnap. Was he? He might. He really, really might. He might realize that he was right to stop caring about Dream, right to leave him in Pandora, right to try and kill him, right to let him be convinced he wasn’t a person when he used to be his friend.

“I’m… sorry,” Sapnap whispered. “I’m sorry, Dream. I’m sorry.”

Dream really, really wasn’t sure if that was a yes or a no. But he started edging back towards the door, and Sapnap didn’t stop him, so he must be letting him leave. “Thank you for not — killing me,” he said.

Neither Karl nor Sapnap responded to that.

Dream fumbled for the doorknob behind him, and pulled it open, backing into the doorway. He should say something nice. He’d made them both so upset, and he needed to say something to make them feel better so they would stop being upset with him. “You should — you should come visit me, Karl,” he said, before he could change his mind. “I — I still want to know who I was before. And you said you could tell me.”

“I can,” Karl said at once. “I — I will. I promise. I won’t… forget.”

Sapnap opened his mouth, then shut it again. Finally, he said, sounding so awfully small, “Are you… can I come see you?”

Dream hesitated. He didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want to do. And Sapnap… he did not want to see again, regardless of whether or not they used to be friends, regardless of whether or not Sapnap was mad at him. But he didn’t want to upset Karl because he might cry, and he didn’t want to upset Sapnap because he might try to kill him again, so he slowly said, “…Yes? I don’t — I don’t want you to,” he said, because he didn’t have to say just what would make people happy. “But… if you want to. And you’re not going to — try and kill me again. Then I guess you can. Sometime.”

“I won’t,” Sapnap said. “I swear I won’t. Dream, I wouldn’t —“ He swallowed, and didn’t finish.

Dream hesitated on the doorstep for another moment. “I wish I could remember when we were friends,” he said, before backing outside, and shutting the door behind him.

Chapter Text

Dream came back two days after he left.

Techno had taken to walking around the outskirts of his property, scanning the tree line, waiting for Dream to come back.

He did other things — training, gathering supplies, looking after his pets, planning a future Syndicate meeting with Ranboo and Niki — because Phil insisted he not get hung up on it, but he kept winding up walking by his property line. Every dip in the ground and every bit of disturbed snow looked like footprints and his heart leapt, but for three whole days he never saw anyone.

Finally, finally, he heard the sound of crunching leaves and snow through the trees, and his ears pricked up. He hurried over to the edge of the trees, meeting Dream just as he came back onto the property, pulling him into a tight, quick hug before stepping back again.

“Dream.” Techno quickly looked him over, scrutinizing him for any sign of injuries. He looked — fine, mostly. Red from cold and trembling slightly, but alright. There was a thin cut on his neck that stood out white against his skin that Techno didn’t remember being there, and there were bandages wrapped over his hands.

“Techno,” Dream said, and he sounded… relieved.

Techno put his hands on Dream’s arms, looking at him intently. “You good?” he asked urgently. “Is everything alright?”

“I met Sapnap and Karl,” Dream offered. “Or. Well. I re-met them. They said we used to be friends.”

“You’re bleedin’,” Techno said, gently taking one of Dream’s hands, and turning it over.

“I’m fine,” Dream said. “I’m sorry I — took so long. I got lost.” He let out a breath, and pulled his hand away, crossing his arms protectively over his chest. “Karl and Sapnap might be visiting me.”

Techno blinked. “It went that well, huh?”

Dream furrowed his brow. “I… don’t know. Sapnap tried to kill me. But he stopped.”

Techno stared at him, while Chat offered loud and helpful suggestions for how to murder Sapnap. “…Let’s get inside,” he finally said. “And you can tell me about it, if you want?” He should have gone with Dream. Someone had tried to kill Dream and Techno hadn’t been there, and he should have been there —

“Okay,” Dream said, nodding, and he followed after Techno back towards the house. Or — no, he was walking beside him, not following him. Somehow that felt so, so much better.

“I did good,” Dream offered after a moment. “I was good. I didn’t lie to people to make them feel better. Or — I did. Some. But mostly I didn’t.”

“And they didn’t get mad at ya?” Techno asked.

“Karl didn’t,” Dream said, frowning slightly. “But he also doesn’t really remember things either. He thought we were still friends, so I had to tell him we weren’t. But he was… nice? He was nice.”

“But you said Sapnap tried to kill you,” Techno said, because what else was he supposed to focus on? He had tried to be fine with Dream going off on his own, and then Dream had almost been killed for it? Techno was supposed to keep him safe.

“He — did,” Dream said haltingly. “He said he visited me in Pandora, and that he would kill me if I ever escaped.”

“D’you want me to kill ‘em?” Techno asked seriously. Because he would. He absolutely, one hundred percent would.

“He didn’t kill me though,” Dream said. “He stopped. He didn’t —“ He hesitated. “I think he was friends with — with Q-Quackity? And he kind of… didn’t know what to do anymore.” Subconsciously, it seemed, he brushed a hand over the bracketed smile scarred on his face. “He got really upset, but he wasn’t trying to kill me anymore. He said he wouldn’t. He….” Dream took a shaky breath. “He helped put me in Pandora, though. He said he thought it would — help. Me.”

“He thought Pandora’s Vault was gonna help you?” Techno demanded, halting at the base of the stairs leading to his cabin. “Is he an idiot? Or just — what, sadistic?” A beat later, he registered that Dream had called Quackity by name, which… he hadn’t really ever done before. What had changed? It was good, Prime it was good, but what had happened?

“He said he didn’t know,” Dream said slowly. “He thought I was still in Pandora, I don’t… I don’t think people knew I was in Las Nevadas.”

Techno huffed. “Hidin’ their crimes? Lyin’ to make themselves look better? That sounds just like a corrupt government.” He shook his head, and went up the stairs to the cabin, pushing the door open.

“Sapnap said we used to be friends,” Dream said again, following him inside. “But I stopped — caring about them, apparently. So they stopped caring about me. And they put me in Pandora. Because they thought it would be better for everyone.”

Techno really didn’t know how to respond to that. People claiming to be your friend and then betraying you? Acting like they were on the same side as you, and then stabbing you in the back because they thought you were the villain? It hit far too close to home.

“Was it better for everyone?” Dream asked. He had taken off his green cloak, and was holding it with shaking hands, watching Techno closely. “Were people — better — when I was in Pandora? Was… was I better? Did they… make me better?”

“Nothin’ Sam and Quackity did made you better,” Techno said firmly. “They were awful to ya, and nothin’ they did was justice, or helpin’ you ‘get better.’ I dunno if anyone else was better off either; it’s not like all the wars and conflicts magically stopped when you weren’t there anymore.”

“Then why did they put me in Pandora?”

“They’re idiots, I guess,” Techno said, his frown deepening. “Forcin’ their self-righteous ideals on whoever and calling it justice. Typical authority figures. But, hey.” He put his hand on Dream’s shoulder. “Anything you did to be better — that was you, alright? That wasn’ them. That was you decidin’ you wanted to be better, and actually doin’ it.”

“You did most of it, though,” Dream said, moving his hand up to grip Techno’s. “You did most of it.”

Techno huffed. “Nah. You were the one decidin’ to go off and be a good person. I just told you it was an option.”

Dream just looked at him for a long moment, some kind of unidentifiable emotion flickering across his face. “I’m glad you were the one that got me out of Las Nevadas,” he said at last. “I don’t — I don’t think I would be a very good person if it was anyone else.”

“You were the one that decided to leave,” Techno reminded him.

“But you were the one that gave me a reason to,” Dream said. “So. I’m glad you did.” He carefully hung his cloak by the door. “I don’t know when Karl and Sapnap are going to visit. They said they would. But I don’t know when.”

“He tried to kill you,” Techno said slowly. “And you’re still lettin’ him visit?”

“Yes,” Dream said. “I still want to know who I was before, I think, and they both… know that. I think it will help me be a better person.” He brightened considerably. “I was a good person, though. While I was there. They didn’t — well.” His mood dimmed again. “Sapnap was trying to kill me, and it was — not great. And I dropped the sword you gave me. Because he told me to. But I got it back later,” he added quickly. “He was just… really mad. And I — I didn’t know what to do. And he told me to drop it, so I dropped it. And then he tried to kill me, but he stopped, so it was fine.” He looked down at his hands, at the bandages on them. “He gave me a regen potion, too.” He took the diamond sword out of his inventory, and offered it to Techno. “I got the sword back.”

“You can keep it, if you want,” Techno offered.

Dream frowned slightly. “I just dropped it, though. When someone told me to. And I — I don’t know if I would do something — else — with it, if someone told me to. So I don’t want it. Yet.” He handed Techno the sword, who took it back slowly. “I thought I was doing better at not listening,” Dream said, his brow furrowed. “But I still just… did what he told me to.”

“Well. He was threatenin’ to kill ya,” Techno said, stowing the diamond sword back in his inventory. “The fight or flight response, y’know. Or freeze, I guess. It’s an understandable reaction.”

“But if he hadn’t decided to not kill me, I’d be dead,” Dream said. “Or if he’d told me to kill myself, I’d also be dead. Because I’m still listening to people when I shouldn’t.” He hesitated. “Can I fight you? Or. No. Can you fight me? Can we fight each other? Not actually. But it’s… been a while? Since I’ve done that? And maybe I’d be better at not listening to people if I practiced more.”

“Sure. Trainin’ arc, Chat? Yeah, Dream, we can do that, we can do that,” Techno said. “When did ya want to do it?”

“Now?” Dream asked. “Maybe?”

“Your hands seem to be mildly injured again,” Techno said, and Dream looked down at them. “Maybe let’s make sure they’re all healed first? So you don’ do more damage to ‘em?”

“My hands… keep getting hurt a lot,” Dream said, frowning, studying the stained bandages wrapped over his palms. “And… all of me, actually.” He flexed his fingers. “I was… thinking about that. While I was gone. Because I tried to climb a tree, and it was —“ He let out a breath. “Harder than it should have been. I used to be so good at it. I remember being good at it. But I haven’t been doing anything really difficult, and no one has really been hurting me for a long time. So why am I not — better — yet? I should be better.”

“Dream, you were literally tortured for months on end,” Techno said flatly. “That’s not gonna go away in just a few months, even with healin’ potions.”

“But no one is hurting me now,” Dream said again. “Except — Sapnap, I guess. Just now. So why am I not fine? I was always fine in Las Nevadas. Or — if I wasn’t, they would make me be fine, so I could… keep doing things.”

“…How would they ‘make you’ be fine?” Techno asked slowly, unsure if he really wanted to know the answer. Every time he thought he really knew what had happened in Las Nevadas, in Pandora, Dream would mention something incredibly concerning like this, and it would all seem so much worse again.

“Healing potions, usually,” Dream said. “Or just… motivate me.”

“I’m assumin’ you don’ mean inspirational speeches here.”

“They would hurt me more,” Dream said, almost matter-of-factly. “So I would stop being dramatic.”

“They hurt you,” Techno said slowly, “and then tried to get you to do something, and then when you couldn’t, because they had hurt you, they would just hurt you more? Even ignorin’ all the terrible moral implications, how exactly is that productive at all?”

“It usually worked, though,” Dream said. “But I was — thinking. That… that might be part of why it still… hurts?”

“What still hurts?” Techno asked, feeling a flash of worry.

“Everything,” Dream said, again, so matter-of-factly. “It never stops hurting. My chest always hurts. My leg hurts. My head hurts. My hands hurt. Even before Sapnap tried to kill me. Not that much, so it’s not really worth… thinking about. But it gets worse when I do things sometimes. Like climb a tree, apparently. So it’s…” He hovered over the word for a moment. “Frustrating. Because I want to be fine. And I should be fine. But I’m not.”

Techno forced himself to take a deep breath. Dream had been hurting this whole time? And he hadn’t said anything? He had been in constant pain, the whole time he’d been there, and it was normal enough that he didn’t even bother thinking about it? And Techno hadn’t even noticed? “Well,” Techno said, with very forced calm. “I kinda want to go kill them. But you bein’ in pain still… makes sense. Healin’ takes time, and your body is still tryin’ to catch up from… all that. Are you sure you wanna start sword trainin’ if you’re still —“

“Yes,” Dream said at once. “Yes. I — I really do, Techno. I don’t want that to happen again.” His expression dropped slightly. He crossed his arms protectively over his chest, shifting half a step back and looking up at Techno.

“They… really hurt me, didn’t they?” Dream said hesitantly. “Quackity. And… Sam. And they didn’t… need to. Because Sapnap said he thought just prison would help me. And Phil thinks therapy is helping me. And you say I’m helping myself. And Karl didn’t think I needed help at all. So they didn’t even… they didn’t need to. They weren’t… making me better.” His fingernails dug into his arms. “Did they just… want to?” He ducked his head, squeezing his eyes shut. His breaths were shallow, strained, and Techno resisted the impulse to just step forward and hug him.

“They didn’t care about me,” Dream whispered. “I—I thought maybe they did? And they were — they were making me better, and I was making them happy, so it was fine, but they — they didn’t care about me. They just — they hurt me, and they just wanted to, and it wasn’t making me better, and it wasn’t even making them happy, and now I can barely do anything, and I can’t remember anything, and I can’t remember my friends, and I’m always hurting and they just — they wanted me to. And they —“ He almost choked on his near-sobs, shaking his head as if to clear it. “He liked it. He — he would hurt me, and he would like it, and he would make me like it, because he said it was helping me, and he was just — he ruined me, Techno, and I — and he wanted to.”

Dream was fully crying now, and he half-stumbled forward and fell against Techno, and Techno put his arms around him and just held him. And Dream just cried.

It was a long time before either of them said anything, when Dream’s sobs had turned to slow, shaky breaths, and Techno was still holding him.

Chat was offering a cacophony of suggestions for what to say or what to do to help Dream feel better, but Techno largely ignored them. Dream had never really seemed to realize, before, how bad things had been for him in Las Nevadas. Or at least never acknowledged it. It felt like such a big step, and Techno didn’t really know how to address it. “I’m sorry,” Techno finally said, his voice low. “I’m sorry they did that, I’m sorry I couldn’t… prevent it. But you’re not ruined, alright? Nothin’ they did helped you, but nothin’ they did ruined you either. You’re still you.”

Dream gave a shuddering breath. “I wish they hadn’t,” he mumbled. “I—I wish they weren’t like this. I wish I wasn’t like this. But I’m… I’m doing better, right?” He sounded so awfully fragile when he asked it.

“You’re doin’ better,” Techno assured him. “You wouldn’ even call me by name when you first got here, Dream, remember? You’re doin’ so much better. You’re doin’ great, alright?”

Dream nodded, still leaning against Techno. He was still trembling. “And I’m a person,” he said.

“Yeah. Yeah, you are. Always have been.”

“I just… needed to hear it,” Dream whispered. He let out a slow breath. “Thank you, Techno.”

“Anytime, Dream. Anytime.”

“And we can fight with swords? So I don’t listen to people better?” Dream asked, pulling back, and rubbing a hand over his eyes.

“Whenever you want to. But — can we at least make sure your hands are fine first?” Techno asked, touching Dream’s hand.

Something almost happy flickered across Dream’s face. “You always care when I’m hurt,” Dream said, looking down at his hands. “Even if it’s hardly at all. Or even if it’s my fault. You always, always care.” He looked up at Techno, and nodded. “I… I’d really like it if you made sure my hands were fine first, Techno. I’d really like that.”

Techno smiled, looking at his friend affectionately. “Alrigh’ then, Dream; let’s go.” And he followed Dream into the kitchen.

Chapter Text

“Heyyy, Dream,” Techno said, nearly a week after Dream had come back from visiting Kinoko Kingdom, tapping on the side of the doorframe of Dream’s room. “Phil an’ I are off to our super secret meetin.’ You wanna come with?”

Dream looked up from where he was carefully sorting through Techno’s enchanted books. “Can I — do this?” he asked. “I want to finish.” Since they’d started training with swords in earnest — with mixed amounts of success, given Dream’s unpredictable physical and mental state — Techno had offered to let Dream use his book collection to enchant his diamond sword, which Dream had taken to very seriously.

“Totally fine,” Techno assured him. “I can fill ya in on the meetin.’ It’s probably just gonna be about takin’ down Las Nevadas anyway. Maybe the Eggpire, I dunno. Routine anarchy stuff.”

Something like fear flickered across Dream’s face, before it was gone. He nodded. “Can I… help?”

“With the meetin’?”

“With… Las Nevadas,” Dream said hesitantly. “I—I want to help. I was there for… a while. So I know about it, so I can help. I don’t… I don’t think I want it there anymore.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Techno said. He didn’t mind Dream wanting to help get rid of Las Nevadas — it was such a huge step that he was even willing to consider opposing Quackity. His only worry was Dream getting hurt from it. They’d practiced sword fighting a few times, and while Dream wasn’t awful, he was nowhere near as good as he had been. Some of the finesse of his usual style had been lost, though Techno was hopeful of helping him get it back.

“We can compare notes on Quackity’s empire of corruption and general evilness,” he added, taking a step back. “I’ll be gone for a bit with Phil, Ranboo, and Niki, but if you need me, you can just jump in that lava pool I showed you past the ridge there.” He gestured out the window. “You’ll just drop down into the Syndicate rooms. There’s water at the bottom, so you don’ have to worry about it.” A few weeks — months — ago, he wouldn’t have wanted to leave Dream alone like this. But Dream was doing so much better now, and was finally, finally starting to at least attempt being independent. Techno couldn’t go and hold his hand the whole time. That wasn’t going to help him in the long run.

Dream nodded, carefully picking up another book. “Okay,” he said. “I will.”

“See ya in a bit,” Techno said, and left Dream to keep sorting through the books.

***

Dream picked up a book enchanted with sharpness, studying it before carefully setting it aside. He hadn’t enchanted anything in a long time, and he wanted to do it right. The diamond sword Techno had given him was safely in his inventory, and his mind kept going back to it.

He could make it Netherite if he wanted. Techno had offered it. But the Warden’s weapons were Netherite, and S—Quackity’s weapons were Netherite, and it was fine when Techno had Netherite weapons, but Dream thought that if he had to hold and use Netherite weapons himself, he might throw up. So it was just diamond until he could work up the nerve to actually use a Netherite weapon. Although he had been doing very well lately — he’d been doing so much better. Techno said so. So many he would be able to use Netherite weapons soon without feeling ill at the very thought of it.

Settling himself more comfortably — or at least in a mildly less painful position — to sit on his bed, he picked up another book, briefly glancing out the window. It was nearing noon, with the sun reflecting brightly off the snow. Techno had been gone for a while now.

Dream absently rubbed the spine of the book he’d picked up, distracted, staring at the letters on the front until they came into focus. Fire aspect. He still remembered how to read the enchanting language, somehow. He really wasn’t sure how, given that he’d never enchanted anything in Las Nevadas. Although Quackity had had a collection of enchanted books in his office, and Dream had spent a long time just… staring at them on the shelf. Because what else was he supposed to do? Or else he has just seen the enchantments carved into Sam and Quackity’s weapons so many times when they were used on him, that he had managed to remember the language that way. Either way, he could still somehow read the symbols.

The door to his room clicked shut as Dream picked up another book. Techno must have come back to shut it. But — no, that wasn’t right. Techno never shut his door. He’d never really been sure of why, but Techno never closed Dream’s door all the way. But then what —

A splash potion exploded in the air around him, and Dream let out a strangled cry, trying to shove himself away from it, before someone seized his arm and dragged him backwards, clamping a hand over his mouth.

“Stop fighting,” the Warden hissed in his ear, and despite the weakness potion weighing on his limbs — and there had to be harming in it too, because then why was he in so much pain — the voice caused a spike of panic, and Dream fought to try and get away. Sam’s grip tightened on his arm as he dragged him towards the door, kicking it open and forcing Dream into the hall.

“Stop fighting me,” the Warden ordered, and Dream’s body gave up on him from the combined weakness potion and just absolute terror. “Heel.”

Dream could barely get any air with Sam’s hand clamped over his mouth, the panic that was making it impossible to draw a full breath. How was the Warden here? Where was Techno? Why wasn’t — he was being bad, he needed to stop fighting, he was in so much trouble, he needed to stop —

“I spent days up here waiting for them to leave you alone,” Sam hissed, “and you are not messing this up. Stop. Fighting.”

And he did.

Chapter Text

Dream couldn’t fight the combined weakness and harming potion, the Warden’s bruising grip on his arm, the mind-numbering terror that was freezing his limbs in place as much as the potion. He didn’t resist as Sam dragged him outside, away from Techno and Phil’s cabins, towards the tree line.

“I should never have let Quackity take you out of Pandora’s Vault,” Sam growled, still forcing Dream along, his grip, if anything, tightening. “It was a security risk from the beginning; you never belonged anywhere except in the Vault where I can keep you.”

They were far enough from the cabins now that Dream couldn’t see them anymore through the trees that surrounded the property. He needed to go back. He needed to not fight the Warden. He was being bad. He was being so bad, and the Warden was punishing him, and he was taking him back to Pandora, but Dream didn’t want to go back to Pandora, he wasn’t doing that again, he couldn’t, but he couldn’t fight the Warden. He wasn’t allowed.

“I wasted weeks trying to get Quackity to come with me to get you back after you left the second time,” Sam snarled, slamming Dream into a tree, pinning him there. “But he’s a coward. I never should have relied on him for anything. I tracked you from Kinoko on my own, I found Technoblade’s house on my own, I found you on my own, and you are never leaving again.” With one arm, he kept Dream pinned against the tree while Dream struggled not to suffocate from hyperventilating, while with the other, he pulled out a set of Netherite handcuffs, which he forced painfully tight over Dream’s wrists.

The pain helped him force his mind clearer, and he sucked in a breath, opening his mouth to call for Techno before the Warden ordered, “Quiet.” And Dream snapped his mouth shut again. He was being bad. He was being so bad, the Warden was so upset with him, and he needed to be good. He had to be good. He had to be good for the Warden and for Sir — but he didn’t belong to them. He didn’t belong to them, he didn’t belong to anyone, he was a person, and he wasn’t letting them take that from him ever again.

Dream steeled himself against the awful pain and heaviness in his limbs, the voice that was screaming at him not to upset the Warden anymore than he already had, and the Warden himself ordering him to follow him. He choked back a sob, and pulled his diamond sword out of his inventory, stabbing it downward into the gap between the Warden’s chest plate and shoulder armor, before shoving him away and breaking into as close to a run as he could get, back towards Techno’s house.

The Warden shouted something furious at him over a cry of pain, but Dream forced himself to ignore him. He pushed himself to go faster — he had to get away from Sam, he had to get to Techno’s house — but Techno wasn’t there, he was in a meeting with Phil, and Dream needed to —

He heard Sam behind him again, shouting a word that surely meant he was supposed to stop and give up and beg for mercy — and he wasn’t listening and he was being so bad and he was going to die —

Everything was hurting so much, he could barely register his thoughts over the awful pain from the harming potion, the weakness potion dragging him back and making him stumble and fall. Dream pushed himself up with his hands still cuffed together, forcing himself back into a run. Techno said to go in the lava pool, hadn't he? He had shown it to Dream before. That’s where he said he was. Dream was supposed to go into it if he needed Techno.

Dream was right at the edge of the lava pool now, and he didn’t hesitate before flinging himself into it.

***

There was a splash and a wet, heavy thud, and everyone at the table looked up, Techno frowning towards the entrance to the Syndicate meeting room.

“Were we… expecting someone else?” Niki asked, sounding perplexed. She leaned across the table. “Techno, I thought you said Dream wasn’t coming.”

“He said he wasn’t,” Techno said, somewhat worried now, pushing his chair back and moving around the table towards the entrance.

“Techno!” That was Dream. That was Dream, and he sounded strangled and panicked and so, so afraid. Techno swung around the corner of the hall and all but crashed into Dream.

“Dream!” Techno said urgently, pulling him back. “Dream, are you —“ He broke off. Dream was crying. He was shaking badly, barely keeping himself upright, he was choking on cut-off sobs, and there were Netherite handcuffs on his wrists. “What happened?” Techno demanded, staring all around for threats, for what had happened to Dream, for who had done this —

“He — Sam is — Sam’s here,” Dream gasped. His fingers were digging into Techno’s arm, his veins standing out bright red against his skin. Red — was that — that wasn’t potion effects, was it?

“Sam?” Phil repeated, his wings flaring out.

There was another splash, a heavy thud, as Sam, in full Netherite armor, dropped down, looking murderous, his sword gripped tightly in one hand. “Technoblade,” he said warningly. “Hand over the prisoner. Now.” There was blood running down the top of his chest plate. How was he already injured? Was that Dream?

“You can’t seriously think I would ever do that,” Techno growled, pulling Dream behind him with one hand, and taking out his axe with the other.

“Not on your life,” Phil added sharply, his wings brushing Techno’s shoulder as he stepped up beside him.

“Really not a good plan,” Ranboo added, still somewhere behind Techno.

“Ranboo, Niki, please don’ let Dream get killed while I murder this guy,” Techno said, not taking his eyes off of Sam.

“We won’t,” Niki assured him. “Sam, you can’t be serious. Don’t you think he’s suffered enough?”

“After everything he did?” Sam asked in furious disbelief. “Never.” And lunged forward to attack Techno.

It wasn’t a fair fight, really. Sam had maxed out enchants, had surely downed potions beforehand, but he never really stood a chance against Technoblade and Philza. His plan must have relied on secrecy, on dragging Dream away before Techno even knew he was even there, because it was almost laughably easy for them to kill him. His body turned to bluish dust as he died, sending him back to his respawn point in the main SMP. It wasn’t his last life, but that was fine; Techno was more than happy to hunt him down to kill him as many times as necessary.

Techno stared down at the dropped armor for a long moment, the voices screaming for blood in his head, before turning away from it, stowing his axe back into his inventory.

“We need to make sure no one else is hanging about,” Phil said, his sword still in hand, already moving towards the exit. “Look after Dream, mate — I’ve got this.”

Dream was hunched against the far wall, Niki and Ranboo both beside him. Ranboo was talking to him in a low voice, but Dream didn’t really seem to be registering what he was saying. He was braced against the wall, barely keeping himself upright, and his eyes were glazed over.

“Ranboo, do you have any milk?” Techno asked with very forced calm, touching a hand to Dream’s arm. Dream didn’t react.

Ranboo blinked. “Milk? Wh — oh! Potion effects. Yeah. Um — one second.” He vanished in a poof of violet particles.

“Is he alright?” Niki asked, looking with concern between Techno and Dream. “Techno, he won’t say anything.”

“I think Sam splashed ‘em with somethin’,” Techno said in a low voice. He briefly squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force back the screaming from Chat that was making it near impossible to focus on anything else. “Dream, you there?”

Dream took a shuddering breath, but otherwise didn’t respond. He slowly slid down the wall, his strength apparently failing him, and Techno moved down with him.

“Ranboo’s gettin’ milk,” Techno told him. “And Sam’s dead. He can’ bother ya.”

Dream’s eyebrows twitched together. He took another shallow, shaking breath.

“You’re safe, Dream,” Niki assured him. She had really barely interacted with Dream since he’d come to Techno’s house, and Techno was relieved she wasn’t being hostile towards him, even after everything that had happened.

Ranboo reappeared with another poof of violet, a milk bottle in hand. “Sorta stole it from your house, sorry,” he told Techno. He held the bottle out to Dream, and, when Dream failed to react at all to it, handed it to Techno instead.

“How dare you rob me when getting the thing I asked for,” Techno said with zero malice, entirely distracted with pulling out the cork and holding the bottle out to Dream.

Dream’s gaze flickered, finally landing on the milk bottle, but he didn’t move, still hunched against the wall, his whole body trembling.

“Here,” Techno said slowly, putting an arm around Dream’s shoulders to lift him up slightly, and tilting the bottle against his mouth. Some of it ran down his chin, but Dream managed to swallow most of it, before lurching forward and coughing violently, gripping Techno’s arm.

“You good?” Techno asked urgently, pulling back the bottle. “Dream, you good?”

Dream was taking deep, shuddering breaths, his eyes squeezed shut. Techno was relieved to see that the reddish hue had faded from his veins. “Techno,” he mumbled. He brushed the milk off of his chin with a shaking hand. “Sorry.”

“Don’ be sorry,” Techno said. “It’s not like you asked Sam to show up and start bein’ a major pain. Did he hurt you?”

Dream shook his head. “Just potions,” he mumbled, his voice slightly slurred. “Forgot about that. I didn’t… I didn’t think he was going to come get me, not after… this long.”

“But you got away from him,” Techno said. “He was already bleedin’ when he showed up, did you —?”

“I stabbed him,” Dream mumbled. “I dunno what… happened to the sword. Sorry.” He finally opened his eyes again, and seemed to realize for the first time that Ranboo and Niki were both standing over him. He tensed, his grip tightening on Techno’s arm. “Sorry,” he muttered again. “Thank you for not… letting him take me back.”

“Of course not,” Niki said, sounding shocked. “We’re anarchists, Dream! That’s just — institutional corruption, isn’t it? And they were really awful to you, that’s not — I wouldn’t want that to happen to anyone.”

“If I was gonna get you thrown back to Las Nevadas or something, I wouldn’t have helped get you out of it in the first place,” Ranboo assured him. “It’d be a bit awkward to change my mind now.”

Dream seemed fully done saying anything, still gripping Techno’s arm, his eyes half-closed. He was still trembling, and there were still Netherite handcuffs on his wrists.

“We should probably get these off of you,” Techno said, touching a hand to the cuffs. “Phil should have some tools back at his place.” He gently pulled Dream to his feet, Dream leaning heavily against him. “I think we’ll call the meetin’ there,” he told Ranboo and Niki. “Bit of a dramatic endin’. Honestly, I’m thinkin’ Las Nevadas and Pandora are just gonna have to go.”

“It’s not justice,” Niki agreed. “They’re not good people to be in positions of power.”

Ranboo sighed. “Yeah. That — yeah.”

“Nothin’ you don’ want to do, Ranboo,” Techno reminded him. “Neither of you are ever gonna be forced into anythin’, you know that.”

“It just freaks me out a bit,” Ranboo said, waving a hand in a transparent effort to appear unconcerned. “I still think Las Nevadas is a pretty terrible place, and it really does need to go. But — uh. Yeah. Just freaks me out a bit.”

“It might be less safe for you to go gather intel now, Niki,” Techno said. “I know we talked about it, but if Sam knows you’re with us now….”

“I’ll be stealthy,” Niki assured him. “I have plenty of invis, and we need more information on Las Nevadas anyway if we’re going to bring it down.”

“I can help,” Dream mumbled, still without really opening his eyes. “Maybe not — go there. But I know about it. I don’t — want it there anymore. I — I don’t want him… dead. But I don’t want it there anymore.”

“We can definitely talk about that,” Techno assured him. “But let’s get these handcuffs off of you first, alright? Anarchy can come later.”

Dream nodded.

Chapter Text

Techno helped Dream remove the handcuffs from his wrists, went all around the property to make Sam had been working alone — there were footprints in the snow and that was it, but how had Techno not seen that — and checked and double-checked that Dream was doing alright. He seemed to be, at least — quiet, shaky, but still fine — until Techno went to go find him later that night, and found him crying out on the porch.

Techno hesitated, standing behind him. He didn’t really know what to do. Did Dream want to be alone? Was that why he was out on the porch? Was he in pain, or just upset about something else? Whatever it was, Techno couldn’t exactly leave him here crying.

Slowly, Techno moved to sit down next to him, leaving a good foot of space between them. “Hey, nerd,” he said quietly. “You… good?”

Dream took a shuddering breath, but didn’t respond. Clearly, he wasn’t good. Techno didn’t really know why he had bothered asking.

“Is —“ Techno started, but Dream cut him off.

“You killed him.”

Techno blinked. “Sam? Yeah, he was tryin’ to take you back to Pandora, of course I killed him.”

“You weren’t — I’m not —“ Dream’s words were choked off by another sob, and he ducked his head. “It’s my fault.”

“It’s really not,” Techno said. “Seriously, Dream. Don’ feel bad about it, it wasn’ on you.” Was this about Dream’s insistence that he didn’t want to kill anyone anymore? Or was it something else?

“I was supposed to protect him,” Dream whispered. “I — he trained me to, and I just — I let him die.” Something else, then. That was… harder to deal with.

“You were literally incapable of moving from the potion effects that he gave you, how were you supposed to do anything?” Techno asked, frowning. “And — Dream, you really didn’ need to try and protect him, you don’ owe him anything.”

“You killed him for me,” Dream choked out. “And — and he —“ He pressed a hand against his chest, digging into the front of his shirt. “It’s my fault.”

“D’you… wish I hadn’t killed him?” Techno asked slowly. “Dream, he was gonna drag you back to prison, he literally tortured you, why would want him not dead?”

“I’m not his,” Dream whispered, and it sounded like he was trying to make himself believe it. “I — I’m not. But I —“ He looked up at Techno, expression anguished. “I got him killed. And I was supposed to protect him, I was supposed to listen to him, and if I had just done what I was supposed to, then he would still be alive.”

“But why would you want him alive?” Techno demanded, trying very hard to force himself to stay calm for Dream’s sake. “Why the heck wouldn’t you want him dead? Dream, he tortured you.”

“I know that!” Dream sobbed, slamming his hand on the porch. “I know that, Techno! I know, I just —“ He let out a shaking breath, clenching his hands together. “I know that,” he whispered. “I’m supposed to listen to him, and I’m supposed to want him dead. And I can’t do either of them right.” He pressed his arms tightly across his chest, fingers digging into his skin. “I still can’t make anyone happy,” he whispered. “I couldn’t make Sir — I couldn’t make Quackity happy. I couldn’t make Sam happy. I couldn’t make Karl and Sapnap happy. I can’t make myself happy. And I still can’t make you happy either. I just want to make people happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, to make everyone happy. Why am I so… so bad?”

Techno was lost for words. He couldn’t exactly argue that he was happy, because he really wasn’t, not with anything about the situation. Sam had tried to drag Dream back to prison, had been killed in the process, and Dream was sitting here sobbing about it. How could Techno be happy about that? Especially because it had only happened because Techno had left Dream alone? “You’re doin’ fine,” Techno finally said. “You really are, Dream.”

“You always say that, but I’m not,” Dream said hoarsely, his voice wet. “I still can’t make you happy either. And I’ve been trying, I really, really have. And I thought I was doing good, but then Sam —“ He looked back up at Techno, his face streaked with tears, scars standing out white against his flushed skin. “I listened to him. He told me to come with him, and I did. And I’m supposed to protect him, and I failed, and he tortured me, he hurt me, and I wish he wasn’t dead. I wish I had saved him. What’s wrong with me?” He held out his shaking hands, staring down at them as if they would somehow hold the answer.

“It’s not your fault, Dream,” Techno said after a moment. “They… manipulated you into carin’ about them. The way you’re feelin’… makes sense. It’s not ideal, obviously, but it’s understandable.”

“Then why can’t I stop?” Dream squeezed his arms around himself again, pressing himself into the edge of the cabin wall. “I thought I was doing better.”

“You are —“

“Then why do I still care about them?” Dream drew out a hand again, staring down at it. “I — I told him that. I told Sam that once, that I cared about him, I grabbed his arm when he was leaving and I told him that, and he —“ Dream sucked in a breath. “He said I wasn’t capable of caring about people. And that I listened to then because I belonged to them, not because I cared about them, because I wasn’t capable of doing that. And he broke my hand. He — no, he made me break my hand. As punishment. And he didn’t heal it for so long afterwards, and I still — I still cared about him.” He looked back towards Techno, somewhere past him, his bloodshot eyes flicking back and forth. “Even Sam told me I didn’t care about him, and I — I still do.”

Techno was at a loss, struggling equally with what to say and trying to keep some control over Chat, who were clamoring for violence in his head, screaming for blood. This wasn’t a problem violence could solve. But Prime, Techno wished that it was. He had somehow thought that if he destroyed Las Nevadas, destroyed the prison, killed Sam and Quackity, then Dream would somehow magically be better, magically get all his memories back and be fine again. But he wouldn’t. He was sitting here sobbing that he still cared about them, even after everything that had happened, everything they had done to him.

“Dream, I think you’re maybe expectin’ too much of yourself,” Techno said at last. “You only left Las Nevadas a few months ago.” He hesitated. “I dunno if it counts as… caring about them, either, so much as… you being afraid of them. You wanted to make ‘em happy, yeah, but because they would hurt you if you didn’. That’s not care.”

“I just wanted to make them happy,” Dream said, his voice choked. “I only ever wanted to do just what they told me to. What would make them happy. Because then, maybe, they would be happy with me, be actually happy with me, and then it would be… good. And they would… stop.” He rubbed his hand over his eyes. “They were just — they were all I had. But they’re not here. They don’t care about me, they never cared about me, and they never will. And I know that. And I still wish Sam wasn’t dead.”

Techno sighed. He didn’t know how to approach this, he really didn’t. “I’m sorry, Dream,” he said at last. “I really am. Not that I killed ‘em, but that I couldn’t kill ‘em sooner. But he can’t hurt you anymore, alright? No matter what, I won’ let ‘em hurt you again.” And he meant it. He was going to burn Las Nevadas to the ground, blow the prison down to bedrock, if that was what it took to keep Dream safe.

“He did do that a lot,” Dream said slowly. He pressed his palms into his eyes. “Hurt me. I didn’t… think he did. Not as much as Quackity. But… he did. He really did.”

“See?” Techno shifted over to be closer to Dream, and nudged his shoulder. “He needed to go. He can’t hurt you anymore; he can’t possibly be stupid enough to try this again. People dyin’ generally isn’t… great, sure. But he’s not even fully dead, he has at least one other life. And now he’s probably gonna be too scared to try again, so he’s not gonna come back.” And if he did, Techno would just stab him again.

“But Quackity might,” Dream said suddenly. “He —“ He sucked in a breath. “Would you… kill him too? All the way?”

“Well. Yeah,” Techno said blankly. “He’s the worst.”

“But maybe don’t,” Dream said. “He — Sam just lost one life, and now he’s gone, and you said he wouldn’t come back, so it’s fine. So — so you don’t have to kill Quackity all the way either, right?”

Techno frowned. “Dream. Dream. Why are we defendin’ Quackity?”

“He —“ Dream drew back, his face falling. “I’m not supposed to care about him,” he said. “I’m not. Because he hurt me, and he doesn’t care about me, and he — he made me think I wasn’t a person and I am.”

“Right,” Techno said.

“But I don’t want to kill people,” Dream said. “I — you told me I didn’t have to. You told me I could be a good person.”

“Yeah,” Techno said slowly. “I know. And I stand by that. You can be a good person — you are a good person — and you don’ have to kill anyone. But — Dream, c’mon, it’s Quackity.”

“I know I’m supposed to want him dead,” Dream said. “I — I know that. But… maybe… maybe he also can be a good person?”

Techno stared at him. “Dream. He tortured you. For fun.”

Dream hunched his shoulders, looking away. “I know.”

“He also formed a corrupt government and is definitely abusing his power in so many ways,” Techno said. “So even just from a Syndicate standpoint, he really needs to go.”

“But it would be my fault.”

“Dream, if I killed Quackity, it would not be your fault. I’d probably go kill ‘em even if you weren’t here.”

“Why would you just… kill people?”

“Heh?” Techno pushed himself to his feet, unable to keep sitting down with Chat screaming at him. “Dream, he is an awful person! He has tortured, killed, and manipulated people, and he would absolutely do it again!”

Dream shrunk back, still not looking at him. “But you’re a good person,” he whispered. “You — you wouldn’t just… kill him, would you?”

Techno buried his face in his hands. “Dream. How does me killing a guy who tried to kill me, put Philza under house arrest, tortured you, and is basically a physical representation of everything I stand against as an anarchist — how does killing him make me a bad person?”

“But can you try not to?” Dream pleaded. “You didn’t even try with Sam, you just killed him.”

“You did try!” Techno said loudly. “You left! And then when he came here, you ran away from him again! That is trying! If he hadn’t come back here, I wouldn’t have needed to stab him!” He forced himself to take a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “Dream, you said you wanted Las Nevadas gone. You said you wanted to help with it, even.”

“I do.”

“If Las Nevadas is gone, then Quackity is gone with it!”

“But can you just — just ask him to leave?” Dream pleaded. “Just — just ask him to leave, and to not — not do the things that you don’t like that he did. And then get rid of Las Nevadas. And then maybe you don’t have to kill him and it doesn’t have to be my fault?” He was looking up at Techno with wide eyes, and he was still trembling.

Techno briefly closed his eyes, before opening them again. “You really shouldn’t still be carin’ about the well-being of Sam or Quackity,” he said. “You definitely shouldn’t be cryin’ over them bein’ dead, not after everything they did to you.”

“I don’t know how to not,” Dream whispered. “Techno, please don’t kill him. Just — just please try not to?”

Technoblade was silent for a long moment, gripping the porch railing. “How about this,” he said at last. “I will give Quackity exactly one chance to leave Las Nevadas, and maybe let me kill him just the one time. And that’s it, that’s the only chance I give him. As long as you try to stop carin’ about them, alright? It’s… it’s hurtin’ you, Dream, and I don’ like to see you hurtin,’ you know?”

Dream was already nodding. “I will. I — I don’t know how, but I will.” He hesitated. “I don’t want to be a bad person. And I don’t want you to be a bad person.”

Techno sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, I know. You’re pretty great like that.” Techno had killed… a lot of people. He had fought in wars, the arena, of course he had killed people. Probably — definitely — people who didn’t deserve it. The festival flashed in his mind, an explosion of fireworks across his vision. The only universal language is violence. But if him offering a singular chance to Quackity was what it took for Dream to accept that Techno was still a good person, that he himself could still be a good person… well. He would do it. He wouldn’t think it was a good idea, and he was fully aware that it was largely Quackity’s conditioning talking in Dream’s head, but for Dream’s sake, he would do it.

And besides — there was always every chance that Quackity would refuse his generous offer, and then he would get to kill him anyway.

“I need you to tell me how to not care about people anymore,” Dream told Techno. “Or — just not them. I still want to care about some people. I want to still care about you. And Phil. And… whoever my other friends are, I guess. But I want to not care about them. And I want to be a good person, and I want to not listen to anyone I don’t want to listen to. So… so can you still do sword fighting with me?”

Techno half-chuckled, shaking his head. “After all that, you still just want to sword fight again?”

“Yes,” Dream said. He ducked his head. “I — I want to think about something else. And I want to help you get rid of Las Nevadas, whether Quackity decides to stay there, or leave. So — so I need to be able to fight someone without just dropping my sword if they tell me to.”

“And it’ll help you stop bein’ upset about Sam?” Techno verified.

Something — guilt, sadness, fear — flashed across Dream’s face, before he nodded. “Yes,” he said firmly. “I’ll try to stop caring about him. I — I really will.” He sounded doubtful, but Techno would take what he could get.

“That’ll work,” Techno said, nodding. He was so good at comforting people. Clearly a master at work. He wanted to hit something. “Alright, Dream. First thing tomorrow, we can sword fight again. As long as you tell me if you’re not doin’ okay, alright? We want this to help you, not hurt you more.”

Dream nodded. “Thank you, Techno.” He hesitated. “And… thank you for… this.”

“What, sitting out on the porch with you in the cold?” Techno asked, leaning against the railing.

“I’m not good at this,” Dream said slowly. “I’m — a pain, I think. To deal with. Quackity said that a lot, at least.”

Techno huffed. “Dream, I’ve had Tommy living in my basement. I promise you, you are not worse than Tommy. I’m always happy to talk with ya. And I don’ think you’re a pain. You’re a great guy, and you’re still just tryin’ to be better.”

“But I’m not doing better,” Dream said. “Or else I wouldn’t still care about them.”

“Dream, there are so many layers to your trauma that it’s almost ridiculous,” Techno said bluntly. “If you were miraculously, one hundred percent the best person ever after just a few months — that would just be crazy. You’re just a guy, alright? There’s bound to be ups and downs. And I stand by what I said the other day — you are doin’ better.” He reached down, and gently pulled Dream to his feet. “Even if you do still think you care about Sam and Quackity.”

“I’ll try not to,” Dream assured him, brushing the remnants of tears away. “I really, really will. Just… you will try not to kill Quackity?”

“I’ll give ‘em the message, at least,” Techno said flatly. “I’ll give him that, whenever the opportunity next comes up.”

Chapter Text

Two days after Sam had tried to take Dream, the arctic had more visitors.

Techno had been training with Dream in the underground training arena that Phil and Ranboo had built, when he distantly heard his dogs starting to bark.

He paused, lowering his sword, frowning up at the ceiling. “You hear that?” he asked.

Dream stopped, immediately stowing his newly-enchanted diamond sword — retrieved from the woods where Sam had dropped it — back in his inventory. He was panting from the exertion of their mock fight, and his face was red. “Is it — your dogs?” he asked blankly, distractedly brushing his hair out of his eyes. The length seemed to be bothering him lately.

“Yeah,” Techno said, his frown deepening. “They go crazy whenever someone they don’t know shows up. Come to think of it, I dunno how Sam got around them without wakin’ them up.” Phil had searched the property and the woods around them for hours after they’d killed Sam, but had found no sign of anyone else. It seemed the prison warden had been working alone. Techno still couldn’t stop himself from glancing out the windows every few minutes, watching. Just in case.

“He said he’d been here for a while,” Dream said slowly, subconsciously, it seemed, rubbing a hand over his arm, where the bruise left by Sam still hadn’t quite faded. “He said he tracked me from Kinoko, maybe. I don’t know.”

Techno sighed. Just another reason he should have insisted to come with Dream when he had gone to Kinoko Kingdom. He couldn’t stop regretting it. “Guess I should go check it out. You wanna stay down here, or come with?” He was torn between having Dream where he could see him, and keeping him somewhere safe, but actually making that call left a bad taste in his mouth, so he offered it to Dream instead.

Dream hesitated. “Do you think it’s — he wouldn’t come back, would he?”

“Maybe if he has a death wish,” Techno said. “Eh, if the dogs are makin’ a fuss, the visitors probably aren’t tryin’ to be stealthy, so you might as well just come up, if you want. I doubt they’ll try anythin’ if I’m there.”

Techno stepped up to the ladder in the center of the arena, and Dream half-limped over to him. “Hey, you good?” Techno asked, furrowing his brow. “You’re limpin’.”

“I’m —“

“Fine?” Techno guessed, raising his eyebrows. “Dream, man, c’mon. We agreed that we’d only do the sword fightin’ if you made sure to tell me if you were hurtin’. Otherwise you’re not gonna heal right.”

“It just — it only hurts some,” Dream said quickly. “It’s fine. It always does that.”

“If I were hurting that amount, would you be concerned for me?” Techno asked flatly. This question tended to probe more of an honest response out of him.

Dream’s gaze dropped to the ground, his face reddening. “Maybe,” he mumbled.

Techno chuckled, starting up the ladder. “Listen, Dream, listen. I’m only lookin’ out for ya. But if you want to run yourself into the ground to get a tiny bit better at sword fightin,’ that’s on you.”

“It’s not that bad,” Dream argued. “It’s really not. My leg only hurts when I step on it.” He started up the ladder behind Techno, albeit at a much slower pace.

“Legs are not supposed to hurt when you step on them, Dream. Legs were made for steppin’ on.”

“It’s fine,” Dream insisted. “I’ve had worse, so it’s fine.”

“Dream, you were literally tortured for months. The ‘I’ve had worse’ argument is no longer valid for you,” Techno said, shaking his head.

“Okay, but you’ve had worse, so really, it doesn’t work for you either.”

“You’re such a nerd, can’t you just not injure yourself more please?”

“I’m going to throw something at you,” Dream muttered, and the threat of mild violence — albeit offered very hesitantly — made Techno laugh, shaking his head. He’d missed this banter with Dream. It obviously hadn’t been feasible to try and joke like this with him a few months ago — not with Dream taking everything he said so incredibly seriously, and ready to throw himself off a cliff if Techno so much as joked about it. But he’d missed it regardless. It felt very Dream.

Techno reached the top of the latter, stepping out, and reaching down to take Dream’s hand and help pull him up as well. He stepped up onto the porch, frowning around the property. Just on the inside of the fence stood Sapnap and Karl.

“D’you want me to kill ‘em, or nah?” Techno asked Dream in a low voice, one hand on the hilt of his sword. “Based on past experiences, I’m guessin’ no.”

“I think I told them they could visit,” Dream said slowly. He hadn't moved away from the ladder, still panting from the exertion of climbing it. “Didn’t I?”

“You told me you did,” Techno said, eyes narrowed at their two visitors. “Why’re they just… standin’ there awkwardly?”

“Maybe they didn’t want to… make anyone upset,” Dream said. “So they’re just waiting.” He let out a slow breath. “I think I want to talk to them. Karl knew me a lot before Pandora, and he was nice. Sapnap… also knew me before Pandora, I guess.”

“But then he tried to kill you,” Techno summarized.

“I do want to talk to them, though,” Dream said. “Both of them. Maybe not both — at once, though?”

“You said Sapnap was maybe friends with Quackity, hmm?” Techno verified. Across the lawn, Karl and Sapnap had apparently decided it was safe to approach, and had started walking over. Dream nodded. “Well. I can have a chat with Sapnap if you wanna talk to Karl. I can have him pass along the message to Quackity we talked about. Then we could switch off, I guess. But you can let me know if they’re botherin’ you, and I’ll make ‘em leave.”

“He — Quackity doesn’t need to die,” Dream said, not for the first time. “He — he really doesn’t. I know you want to, but… I don’t… want people to die, and he’s not….” He trailed off.

“I’ll pass it along to Sapnap,” Techno assured him. He very much thought Quackity did need to die, actually, but Dream was so awfully insistent about giving him at least a chance that he couldn’t really go against it, even if he personally thought it was a terrible idea. He had to keep reminding himself that Dream had only been away from Las Nevadas for a few months, that that much conditioning was hard to get over; he’d seen more than enough evidence of that. And there was Dream’s insistence that he didn’t want to kill anyone anymore, and wanted to be a ‘good person,’ which Techno at least had an easier time respecting.

“And you won’t kill Sapnap either,” Dream checked. “I don’t want him — dead. Because of me.” He hesitated. “You already killed the Warden — or — Sam — because of me.”

“You didn’ make me kill Sam,” Techno said firmly. “We’ve talked about this. That was all my decision. He tried to hurt me, he tried to hurt my friends, he broke into my secret meetin’ room, and he runs a very corrupt prison. It was my decision to kill him. That’s not on you.”

Dream nodded, averting his eyes. He didn’t seem convinced. Even though it hadn’t even been Sam’s final life, and it definitely wasn’t Dream who killed him, Dream still seemed to feel guilty about his death, even after their long talk about it. He seemed… better, sure, but still not fully well. He stepped up onto the porch, gripping the railing. “I’m — I’ll be inside,” he said. “But they can… come in, I guess.” He disappeared into the house, and Techno turned back towards their visitors. He sighed, then leaned against the porch railing to wait for them.

“Technoblade,” Sapnap called, halting a few steps away from the porch.

“Hey,” Techno said. “What’re you doin’ here, Sapnap, Karl?”

“We wanted to visit Dream,” Karl said firmly. “He said we could.”

“What makes you think Dream is here?” Techno drawled.

Sapnap and Karl exchanged glances. “Dream… said he lived here?” Sapnap tried. “Did he move out or something? He was literally… just right there.”

“Nah, I’m just messin’ with you,” Techno said. “Dream still lives here. Gonna just give you a heads up, though. The last guy who visited us actually tried to abduct him, and that guy died like twelve seconds later. So don’ go tryin’ that, or I will have to stab you.”

Sapnap drew back slightly. “It wasn’t — Quackity, was it?”

“The fact that you’re concerned about Quackity is a red flag, if I’m bein’ honest,” Techno mused. Dream, Sapnap — why were both of them so worried about Quackity’s wellbeing? Even if it was probably for very different reasons. “But nah, it wasn’t him. Quackity’s still hidin’ out in his corrupt little government as far as I’m aware.” He pushed back from the railing, gesturing for them to follow him. “Dream did say he wanted to talk with you both, but also not at the same time, since I guess one of you tried to murder him or somethin’.” He made eye contact with Sapnap, who dropped his gaze, his face reddening. “But you can come in. Again, if you try anythin’ I will immediately stab you.”

Sapnap nodded as Karl said, “We won’t try anything. Dream’s our friend too, Techno.”

“Sure. Sure he is.” Techno pushed open his door, leading the two of them inside, before nudging the door shut again. “Dream’s in the living room,” Techno said, nodding at the doorway. “Sapnap, I actually wanted to talk with you about Quackity, so if you wanna follow me. Karl, if you try anythin’ to hurt Dream, I will kill you. So don’ do that.” And he would. Whether or not it made Dream upset, if someone came into his house as a guest and then tried to hurt Dream, Techno was going to kill them.

“I won’t,” Karl said again. “I really won’t.” He briefly touched Sapnap’s arm, before edging around Techno into the living room, glancing back once at them before leaving the hall.

“C’mon,” Techno said, stepping into the kitchen. “If you ignore the foxes always jumpin’ at the windows, this is also a great place to chat.” He leaned back against the wall, studying Sapnap, who seemed unwilling to make eye contact. “It’s been a while,” Techno finally said. “Since L’Manburg, almost.”

“…Yeah, I guess so,” Sapnap said, still standing by the entrance to the kitchen. “I see you got your dogs back.”

“Yep,” Techno said, glancing out the window at them. “Some nerd killed most of ‘em, but it’s not hard to get more.” He turned back to Sapnap, frowning slightly. “So. I’m gettin’ subtle hints that you’re still on good terms with Quackity.”

“No,” Sapnap said at once. “I mean. Yes. But —“ He made a frustrated sound. “I thought I was. But I also never thought he’d… do something like this.”

“Have you met the guy?” Techno asked, raising his eyebrows. “He’s literally crazy.”

“He’s not,” Sapnap protested. “He’s just —“

“You’re really not helpin’ your case here, are you seriously defendin’ him?”

“No! It’s not — I thought I knew him,” Sapnap said, flailing a hand. “Sorry if I’m having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that he was literally torturing my friend for months, and still just acting like everything was fine. We were talking, we were hanging out, and the whole time he was — I’m not defending him, it’s just hard to believe, okay? I thought I knew him better than that.”

“It is annoyin’ when people you think you know betray your trust,” Techno conceded. “Hate it when that happens. But yeah. Whatever you thought he might have been, Quackity is a perfect picture of corrupt, power-hungry tyrant.”

“So, what, are you just gonna go all Doomsday on Las Nevadas?” Sapnap demanded. “Attack everyone there, blow it all up, like you did L’Manburg?”

Techno shrugged. “Probably. But I don’ have to.” He folded his arms. “See, violence is usually the answer. Not always, but usually.” He hesitated. He’d talked this over with the Syndicate (not down in the meeting room this time, just at Phil’s cabin; he hadn’t wanted to leave Dream alone for that long after what happened with Sam), and talked it over with Dream. Mostly Dream. Who still, after all this time, seemed hesitant about completely destroying Las Nevadas. He had said he wanted it gone, but also… very much didn’t.

Dream had insisted — heavily influenced by the guilt he felt over Sam’s death, if Techno had to guess — that maybe, maybe, Quackity didn’t need to die. And however much Techno wanted to blow the whole place to bedrock, he was willing to offer a slight chance to Quackity to live, even if he didn’t think Quackity would take it. If only because it seemed like Dream would feel responsible for his death, and he wasn’t sure what that would do to Dream’s already fragile mental state; he’d already cried multiple times about Techno killing Sam, which was… concerning, to say the least.

“I’m a generous guy,” Techno said at last. “And also Dream doesn’ really want me goin’ and killin’ more people. It makes him a bit upset. I did offer to kill you too, actually, but he seemed against the idea. Point bein,’ Quackity doesn’ have to die. He probably will, but he doesn’ have to.”

“What do you want from him?” Sapnap asked. “I — I’m sure I can get him to do it, I can talk some sense into him. He has to realize that he was in the wrong here, right? He can’t just… torture and — and dehumanize people he doesn’t like, that’s just….” He trailed off.

Technoblade looked at him doubtfully. “I’m sure he feels a tremendous amount of remorse,” he said. “I definitely got very repentant vibes from him the last time I was there and he literally electrocuted Dream for walkin’ out of the border of Las Nevadas.”

Sapnap looked away.

“You keep defendin’ him, and honestly, it’s gettin’ annoying,” Techno said. “Have you seen what he did to Dream?” He shook himself. “If it were up to me, even from just an anarchy standpoint, Las Nevadas would just be gone. But Dream’s a nicer guy than I am, and he wants to give Quackity the option to completely abandon Las Nevadas and not start any more countries or cause any more problems, and then maybe I won’t hunt ‘em down and kill ‘em.”

“You want him to just… leave Las Nevadas? That’s it?”

Techno nodded. “And not cause more problems. Revenge is pretty great though, so maybe I’ll just kill ‘em the one time, instead of takin’ all of his lives.”

“That’s your generous offer?” Sapnap demanded. “He abandons his country forever, and you maybe don’t kill him?”

“Hey, I’m a violent anarchist,” Techno said. “Takin’ down Las Nevadas was already on the to-do list, even before I found Dream there. Why d’you think I was there in the first place? My absolute reciprocation policy is comin’ into play here too. People can’t just go and try to execute me, then go along and torture my friend without me havin’ issues with it. I really am bein’ very generous here. The only reason I’m even offerin’ him another chance is because Dream asked me to.”

“He’s never gonna do it,” Sapnap said. “Quackity. He loves that country.”

“Sure. And I’m fine with the mass-destruction option too. But I told Dream I’d give him a chance. So your job is to go to Quackity and tell ‘em he can either leave Las Nevadas and not cause any more problems, or I’m gonna come and blow it all up and stab ‘em to death. Up to him.” Techno shrugged. “I’m fine with either option. Honestly, I’d even prefer the second one.”

“You want me to go tell him that?”

Techno nodded. “Yep. I’m not walkin’ all the way back there unless it’s to stab him. It’s a long, boring trip.” And he certainly wasn’t leaving Dream alone that long, so soon after Sam had just tried to drag him back to Pandora’s Vault.

Sapnap looked pale, but he nodded. “I — I’ll tell him,” he said. “I’ll go straight from here. I’ll tell him.” He hesitated. “You’re not like… expecting me to help, are you?”

“What, blow it up? Kill him? Nah, why would I want your help?” Techno asked, frowning. “Just don’ get in the way. I have actual friends who don’t have annoyingly conflicted feelings about Quackity, why would I want you there? Quackity really is a terrible guy; I think you should really realize that by now. Especially if you’re gonna go talk to Dream about him.”

Sapnap blinked. “He — I can still talk to him?” He sounded… hopeful. How under Prime was this guy so defensive — or at least in denial — about Quackity’s wrongdoings, but still seemed to care about Dream? Was it even really care, or was it just guilt?

“He said you could,” Techno said. “But if you make him upset, I might have to have Karl deliver the message to Quackity instead.”

“…Why?”

Techno blinked. “Because you’ll be dead. I’ll have killed you. Was that not…? I feel like that was a pretty obvious threat. Wasn’t it, Chat?” He shook his head. “You can talk to Dream, but you play nice, or we’re gonna have problems.”

Sapnap nodded.

Chapter Text

Karl was sitting in Techno’s chair.

Dream didn’t know why it bothered him so much.

He was sitting on the couch, a good, safe distance from Karl. Karl didn’t make him nervous, exactly. But their last encounter hadn’t been one of Dream’s favorite — admittedly limited — memories, and he felt better sitting further away, and with an enchanted sword in his inventory. What were his favorite memories, actually? He’d never really thought about it before. People probably had favorite memories, right? Maybe he needed to make more favorite memories, since he didn’t want to think too much about any past ones he might have. He would do that after Karl left.

Karl. Who… hadn’t really said anything yet.

Dream forced his attention back to Karl, who seemed nervous. More nervous than Dream felt, really. Because Dream didn’t need to be nervous, because if Karl bothered him, then Techno would just make him leave. He said so.

“So, Dream. How’ve… you been?” Karl asked awkwardly, finally breaking the silence.

“I’m fine,” Dream said slowly. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Karl said quickly. “It’s been good. Um. Missed you, though.”

“You could’ve come sooner,” Dream said.

“We didn’t really know where Technoblade lived,” Karl said hurriedly. “We had to figure that out first, I think Sapnap found out from Sam or something.”

“Sam did come by a few days ago,” Dream said, frowning slightly. “He tried to take me back to Pandora’s Vault though, so Techno killed him.”

Karl blinked. “Oh. Um… okay. Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” Dream said. It really wasn’t, but he didn’t want to talk to Karl about it, and he wasn’t supposed to care about Sam anymore anyway. “You said you could tell me about… me,” he said, very determined to move the conversation to something else. “I know you also don’t remember a lot, but I think you still know… more than I do? We were friends.”

Karl shook himself. “Yeah. Yeah, we were friends. Sapnap and George were on the Server with you for a long time before I was, but we did hang out and stuff. Before all the wars that started happening.”

“Were the wars my fault?” Dream asked.

“Not really,” Karl said. “They were always a lot of people’s faults. I guess you took Tommy’s disks? But that was after he did a bunch of other stuff to other people, so I dunno.”

Dream frowned. So whatever wars had happened weren’t his fault. Techno also said that people’s problems didn’t suddenly stop when he was in prison. So that was good, at least. “Can you tell me about something… good. That happened?” Dream asked. “That you know about?”

“Like what?” Karl asked, sounding relieved at the shift in subject.

“Just… anything,” Dream said. “Something when I was happy. I don’t… really remember that.” He brushed his hair out of his eyes, avoiding looking at Karl.

“You don’t remember… being happy?” Karl repeated, sounding dismayed. He was fiddling with the sleeves of his hoodie. “But aren’t you happy being with Technoblade? I thought that’s why you came back here, instead of staying in Kinoko.”

Was that why he came back? Dream was pretty sure it was because Sapnap had tried to kill him, and Techno hadn’t tried to kill him. He was safe here. And he was being a person here. But was he happy? Maybe he should try and be happy more.

He tried to think back to when he was last happy. He was happy when Techno helped fix the injuries that Sapnap had caused, wasn’t he? He was happy to sword-fight with Techno, he was pretty sure. He was happy when Quackity told him he did a good job. Or Sam gave him an almost approving look, and food for the night. But those weren’t things that were supposed to make him happy anymore, where they?

“Can you just tell me?” Dream finally asked. “I don’t remember… anything, really. From before Pandora. And I want to. So — so can you tell me about when I was happy?” He didn’t want to think about things from his past that were bad, but maybe it was okay to hear about the good ones?

“…Sure,” Karl said, and he sounded sad, which he shouldn’t, because he was supposed to be talking about something happy. And he did. He started to sound happier when he started talking with Dream about some of his first days on the Server, and even before the Server, telling about his own adventures and Dream’s. He talked about Sapnap, George, Tommy, Tubbo, Wilbur — all of these people that Dream supposedly knew, about all of these events that supposedly happened. And Dream sat there, and listened, and it felt like Karl was talking about a stranger.

Dream didn’t know who this was. He had no memories of this person. Karl was sitting there talking animatedly about how Dream used to have a pet horse named Spirit and how he really liked it, and Dream didn’t even remember ever riding a horse, much less owning one.

The more he listened to Karl tell him about himself, the more he realized how little he still had. He used to have pets. He used to have friends. He used to be happy. And now, he didn’t have any of that. But if Dream the person from before Pandora had pets, and friends, and was happy — maybe he could have that now, too. He could get it back, right?

“I think I want to go get a pet,” Dream said firmly, interrupting Karl in the middle of him talking about George. “Techno has a lot, and he likes them, and I think I want a pet too.”

“What, right now?” Karl asked.

“Later,” Dream said. “If I had them before, and they made me happy, maybe I could have one now, and it would make me happy.”

“So you’re really not… happy, right now?” Karl asked. “I mean — you’re my friend, Dream, I want you to be happy. I really do.”

“I’m happy sometimes,” Dream said, unsure of how true it was or not. He would have to ask Techno what it meant to be happy, because he really wasn’t sure at this point. “But I — I appreciate you telling me about when I was more happy.”

“I wish you could be happy now, too,” Karl said. He hesitated. “Can I — give you a hug?”

“I would rather you didn’t,” Dream said, and then felt a flash of worry, because what if Karl got mad at him — but Karl just nodded, and only looked mildly disappointed.

Techno appeared in the doorway, and Dream looked up. “You good?” Techno checked.

“Karl’s telling me about me,” Dream said. “I want to get a pet.”

“Pets are fun,” Techno said. “Never personally had one myself, but eh, they seem alright.”

Techno had a lot of pets. Dogs and foxes and horses and things. Dream smiled a bit at that. “Can you help me get one later?”

“Sure,” Techno said. “I’d be happy to. Did you still wanna talk to Sapnap? He’s gonna pass along the message to Quackity.”

“What message?” Karl asked quickly.

“You can ask Sapnap about it,” Techno said dismissively. “I don’ feel like goin’ into it. But, hey, I don’ actually know —“ He narrowed his eyes at Karl. “What are your personal feelings about Quackity?”

“Quackity’s the worst,” Karl said, frowning. “He’s the reason I got killed.”

Techno blinked. “Alright. You don’ seem killed, but alright.”

Karl’s expression dropped, and he looked confused for a moment, before shaking himself. “I’ll leave,” he told Dream. “So you can talk with Sapnap, if you want. I know you wanted to do it separately. But I’ll be outside if you — need me.” He rose, moving over to Dream and almost putting a hand on his, before seeming to think better of it, and just stepping away instead. He squeezed past Techno in the doorway, and Dream could hear him talking with Sapnap in a low voice, before Sapnap came into the room.

Dream was immediately seized with a panic, before forcefully reminding himself that Sapnap wasn’t going to hurt him. Sapnap was his friend, and Techno was right there, and Dream needed to get over it.

Sapnap moved into the chair that Karl had been sitting in — and it was still Techno’s chair, and Dream still didn’t really like that — glancing up towards Technoblade. “You don’t have to keep… standing there,” Sapnap offered.

Techno snorted. “Nah. But I want to.” He glanced over at Dream, tilting his head at Sapnap in a silent question.

What Dream was probably supposed to say was that he would be fine talking with Sapnap alone, and Techno could go somewhere else. But what he actually said was nothing, because he absolutely did not want Techno to leave him alone with Sapnap.

Techno didn’t leave, instead leaning more comfortably against the doorframe, and Dream could relax a bit.

“So… how are you?” Sapnap finally asked, looking at Dream. He was… mostly making eye contact. But Sapnap’s eyes kept flicking down the smallest bit, to the bracketed smile on Dream’s cheek. Dream thought maybe he hated it. It reminded him too much of not being a person.

“I’m fine,” he said after a moment. Karl had asked him that too. And he was fine. “Karl said you didn’t know where Techno’s house was, so you had to find out from Sam before you could come.”

Sapnap winced. “Yeah. I couldn’t ask Quackity — obviously — and it felt weird to ask like… Tubbo, or someone else who was in the Butcher Army.” Again, he glanced at Techno. “I didn’t say anything about you being here, I swear — I asked him yesterday, and I don’t think he suspected anything. He seemed distracted; he was going over to Las Nevadas, I think.”

“Techno killed him like two days ago,” Dream offered. “So that might be why.”

Sapnap looked over at Techno, startled. “You — killed him? What did he do?”

“Besides running a fundamentally corrupt prison and helpin’ torture a friend of mine?” Techno drawled. “I guess he came up here and broke into my house and tried to abduct Dream again, so that might’ve had somethin’ to do with it.”

Sapnap blinked, drawing back. “Oh,” he said. “That… makes sense, I guess.” He shifted uncomfortably, before turning his attention back to Dream. “Look, Dream,” he said seriously. “I—I wanted to apologize. Again. I wasn’t — I should have realized what was going on. Even when I visited you the first time in Pandora, I should have realized that it wasn’t going to lead anywhere good, and I should have helped you, and I didn’t. And I — I’m sorry.”

Dream dropped his gaze. Sapnap had already apologized. A lot. But empty apologies, without any actions to back them, really didn’t mean much. He’d learned that from Quackity. From Sam. Who would force him to apologize, to beg forgiveness, for crimes he didn’t even remember committing, and then would still punish him for it. Again and again and again. He could apologize until his throat was dry and cracked and he was unable to speak, but it didn’t really ever make a difference. Though he had never really stopped trying, either.

At least Sapnap wasn’t trying to kill him anymore.

“Why did you come here?” Dream finally asked. “I — I know why Karl came, because he never thought we stopped being friends, and I asked him to tell me about me. But why did you come?”

Sapnap looked liked he’d been slapped in the face. “You said I could,” he said.

“I said you could, I didn’t say you had to,” Dream said. “So… did you just come here to say you were sorry?”

“I don’t know what else I can say,” Sapnap said. “I want to make it — better. I want to make it up to you, Dream. Just tell me how can I make this up to you.”

Dream looked at him. How was he supposed to know? He didn’t even remember them being friends, he didn’t remember Sapnap visiting him, he didn’t remember anything about him. Some part of him felt like he should, but any memories he might have had of Sapnap hovered just in the edge of his consciousness. Pandas and a community house and a long game of a hunt. He’d just spent so long forcing away any memories that it was near impossible to drag them up now. It flooded him with panic every time he tried, and he just couldn’t do it. Even after hearing Karl tell him so much about himself, he found himself shying away from any actual memories of it, because what if Quackity was right? What if he was awful? Karl had memory problems too, so what if he had Dream all wrong? Maybe he really was a terrible person.

(Maybe he didn’t want to know.)

And how was he supposed to know how Sapnap could make it better? He didn’t even know what better looked like. “I don’t know,” he said at last. “I — I wish I did? But I don’t even really know what you… did. Or what I did. So I don’t think apologizing for it… helps.”

“Then I — what can I do?” Sapnap pleaded. “Dream, I want to fix this.”

“But you can’t,” Dream said. He glanced back at Techno, who was watching both of them carefully. Dream briefly squeezed his eyes shut, before looking back at Sapnap. “What do you think you can do to fix this?”

“Wh — I don’t know!” Sapnap protested. He ran his hand distractedly through his hair. “That’s why I’m asking, I don’t — I don’t even really know what happened.”

“Quackity almost killed me a lot in Pandora, and you thought it was fine for me to stay there,” Dream offered. He wasn’t sure why Sapnap looked so crushed by that — he literally asked to know. “And you tried to kill me like a week ago.” He glanced back over at Techno, who looked at Sapnap, and then the door, raising his eyebrows. Dream crossed his arms tightly across his chest and nodded at the floor.

“Maybe you think about it more on your way to Quackity’s,” Techno said, finally stepping into the conversation. “You go give ‘em the message, think about how you can actually be helpful to Dream, and then come back and tell us what he said, and what you’ve come up with. But I think it’s time for you to go.”

Dream didn’t look up, but he saw Sapnap stand in his peripheral vision.

“I’ll come back as soon as I can,” Sapnap promised, and Dream wasn’t sure if he was talking to him or Techno.

The piglin hybrid snorted. “Yeah, maybe not too soon. Feel free to take the long way back.”

“I’ll — I’ll figure out how to make this right,” Sapnap said, and he was surely talking to him now. Dream couldn’t make himself look up. “I swear. I’ll make this right.”

Dream didn’t respond. What else could he say? He didn’t even remember why Sapnap had wanted to kill him. He didn’t remember them being friends. He didn’t want him here.

Techno led Sapnap out of the room, and Dream heard muffled talking from Karl as well. A few minutes later, and the door slammed shut. Techno’s hoofs clipped against the floor, before he reentered the room.

“Well. That went about how I expected,” Techno said.

“They were both sitting in your chair,” Dream mumbled.

Techno snorted. “Yeah, I saw that. Thoughts on… their visit?”

“I’m glad he’s telling Quackity,” Dream said, finally looking up. “I — I think it’s a good idea.”

“I don’t,” Techno offered. “But we can disagree, that’s fine.”

Dream nodded. “Should I have — talked to Sapnap more? He keep just saying he wants to make it better, but how am I supposed to know?”

“That’s fair,” Techno said, nodding. “Nah, you don’ owe him your time. If he wants to make things ‘right,’ then he’s got to put in a bit more effort than that.” He dropped down into his chair, sighing and leaning his head back. “What about Karl? I missed most of that one.”

“Karl’s nice,” Dream said. “And I don’t think he ever tried to kill me. I do want to go get a pet. He said I was happy before, and my pets made me happy, and I don’t really… remember being happy that much. So — so maybe if I get a pet, then I can be happy. Because people are — supposed to be happy, right?”

“Ideally, yeah,” Techno said, still leaning back in his chair. “Bein’ happy is generally good.” It was. Techno was happy sometimes — not often, but sometimes. Dream would have to think back on what Techno did when he was happy, because he really couldn’t remember it that well. His memory was still wholly unreliable. But he did remember some things that made Techno happy, and that was Techno’s pets.

“Can I go get a pet?” Dream asked. “I feel like that would be good. For me. I also don’t think I have that many… favorite memories. So I think I should make some. I’m not really… doing that much, am I?”

“I mean, you were gettin’ tortured up until a few months ago,” Techno offered. “So maybe makin’ better memories is a good idea.”

“So we can go get me a pet?”

“Absolutely. First thing tomorrow, Dream, we can go find you a pet.”

Chapter Text

On the way to the nearby village the next morning, Dream seemed happier than Techno had ever seen him, at least since before Pandora. He chatted about random things, he occasionally almost skipped ahead before looping back around, and he overall seemed much more light-hearted than he had the whole time he’d been with Techno.

Yes, it was odd, considering he had been sobbing about Sam dying only a few days before, but it was a welcome change. Dream had always been very good at fixing his mind on some new thing to achieve, whether that was being ‘good’ for Quackity and Sam, being ‘good’ for Techno, being a ‘person,’ and now, it seemed, being happy. Even before Pandora, Dream had always set lofty goals with the drive to achieve them. After his conversation with Techno about Sam, and his talk with Karl about his life pre-Pandora, Dream seemed to have decided that the next step to being a ‘good person’ was being happy, and he seemed very determined to achieve it.

“We’re getting me a cat?” Dream verified, not for the first time, halting a few steps ahead of Techno.

“Yep,” Techno affirmed, nodding. “They’re soft, they’re nice, and they’re a bit tamer than the foxes you’d find around my place, so they’ll be a bit easier to handle.” His original thought had been to just give Dream one of his many dogs, but Phil pointed out the obvious flaw in that plan and suggested a cat instead.

A smile flickered across Dream’s face. “I don’t think I’ve had a cat before,” he said, moving ahead of Techno again. “Karl didn’t mention a cat, so I must not have had one.”

“Cats are fun,” Techno said. “They scare off creepers.”

“Would they scare Sam?” Dream asked.

“Eh, why not? We’ll just gather an army of cats to defend the arctic from Sam.”

“He’ll never get through,” Dream said, exhaling a cloud into the frosty air, and it sounded almost like a laugh. “I should’ve brought a cat with me to Pandora, to stop him coming in and hitting me when he was upset about something.”

He moved on again, seeming fully unaware of what he just said. Or at least the way it was making Techno want to kill Sam all over again.

“How far is the village?” Dream asked, pausing on top of a snow-covered log.

“It’s just up there,” Techno said, deciding to move past the disturbing statement, and gesturing ahead.

Dream frowned, squinting at the bright, snowy landscape. “I don’t see it.”

Techno narrowed his eyes slightly at the village. It wasn’t obvious, but it was there — the dark roofs of houses clustered in the trees. It really wasn’t that hard to see. “Maybe we gotta get you glasses. You’re gettin’ old, like Phil.”

“I stared at the lava a lot,” Dream confessed, stepping — limping — over to where Techno was, carefully positioning himself to look the same way. He squinted over towards the village again, now perfectly aligned to be in his view. “I still don’t see it.”

“I’ll get ya there, don’ you worry,” Techno said, nudging Dream’s shoulder as he kept walking.

Dream almost tripped over his own feet hurrying to follow him, and Techno snorted. “I’m fine,” Dream insisted. “Don’t laugh at me, Techno.”

Techno almost apologized at that, but Dream was doing that almost-smile again, and Techno shook his head instead. “Then get less clumsy.”

“I’m very not clumsy,” Dream said. “You’re the one who — who —” He couldn’t seem to find a way to complete the attempted insult, and Techno laughed, stepping through a clearing in the trees.

“You’re the master of comebacks as always, Dream,” he said, still chuckling. “Oh, hey,” he added, tilting his head at the shallow crater in front of them. “I think this is where I watched you build a house.”

Dream appeared next to him, staring down at the snow. “It’s… not a good house,” he said.

“Yeah, you weren’t great at buildin,’” Techno said. “And you blew it up. It was so funny.”

“Why did I blow it up?” Dream demanded. “I know we — blew up L’Manburg. On Doomsday. Phil said that, right when I first got here. I remember that. And… near a beach? Maybe? Or a — a tent? Did I just like blowing things up?”

Techno laughed, shaking his head. “I guess so, huh? But nah, you came to my house bein’ all mysterious, and I asked you if you were homeless, and you kept insistin’ you weren’t, and then I came out after you and you were buildin’ the saddest little shack I’ve ever seen.”

Dream looked down at the crater. “Maybe I should try again.”

“I’m sure you’d build yourself a great house,” Techno assured him, starting off again.

“I think you’d have to help,” Dream said, hurrying after him, and almost tripping once again. “Why am I so bad at walking?” he demanded. “I’m — I should be good at walking, I’ve been doing it for a long time.”

“Dream, master of walkin,’” Techno said, splaying his hands like he was unveiling a banner. “We’ll put it over the door of your house.”

“So we are going to build me a house?” Dream said, almost triumphantly.

“If you want, yeah. You’re welcome to keep livin’ in mine, but you can always get your own place. Right next door if ya want. Ranboo has one. Maybe ask Phil for help, though, not me.”

“Maybe this was the plan all along,” Dream said. “I’m not good at building houses, so I just get put in Pandora so you’ll make me a house instead.”

Techno laughed out loud at that. “That’s such a convoluted way to get a house,” he chuckled. “I can absolutely see you tryin’ to pull somethin’ like that. Next time, Dream, please just ask first; I’m sure we can work somethin’ out so you’re not homeless. There’s the Community House, at the very least.”

“I’ll remember that next time I’m homeless,” Dream assured him. “I do want a house, though. I think people should have houses. And I guess I kept blowing mine up. But I want it to still be near you,” he added quickly.

“Sure,” Techno said, shrugging. “Again, ask Phil. He’s better at buildin’ than me.”

“So you’re bad at building,” Dream summarized.

“Hey, I am great at building,” Techno said with mock offense. “How dare you insult my masterful buildin’ skills.”

“You just said Phil was better than you,” Dream said, laughing, actually laughing, before breaking off as they stepped out of the trees. “Oh!” he said, blinking rapidly. “I see it now.”

“I’d hope so, Dream,” Techno said dryly. “Considerin’ we are literally at their doorstep.” The village spread out in front of them with sturdy spruce houses, small fields of crops, and villagers meandering about.

“I had a lot of concussions; it’s not my fault I can’t see right,” Dream said, already heading into the village. “At least I can still see. D’you know how many times Quackity threatened to stab my eyes out?”

Techno stared helplessly after him for a moment, before moving forward again. “Do I wanna know?” he asked.

“I don’t remember,” Dream admitted. “But it was a lot.” He frowned. “You’d think it would get less awful since he said it so much and never actually did it.”

“Bark worse than his bite, huh?” Techno asked, then winced. Quackity had always been a big talker, but his bite had turned out to be a lot worse than Techno would have expected.

“He did threaten a lot of things that he didn’t do,” Dream said, almost thoughtfully. “But then he also threatened a lot of things that he did do. I wasn’t talking to him for a while one time, in Pandora, and he kept saying if I didn’t start answering his questions then he was going to make me drink a harming potion, and I really didn’t think he would, but then he did. And then I couldn’t talk for a long time, since my throat was… bleeding, all the time, and I was just throwing up blood, and that just made him more annoyed, but also I think he was — interested? So he just made me drink other potions too, to see what would happen, and then I almost died a lot.”

Dream paused, seeming to realize that Techno had halted. Confusion, concern, and then fear flickered across Dream’s face, before he asked hesitantly, “Should I stop talking? I can stop talking. You — you always talk more when you’re happy, you just talk about things, and you make fun of people. But I don’t want to make you upset, so I — I can stop talking.”

“You can keep talkin,’” Techno forced himself to say, shaking himself, and moving to catch up with Dream. “Chat’s just actin’ up, don’ worry about it.”

Dream nodded slowly, still seeming unsure. “Am I doing — good?” he checked. “At being happy?”

“Are you not actually happy?” Techno asked, dismayed.

“I think I am,” Dream said. “I don’t really remember… being happy a lot. But I think it’s something like this.” He patted Techno’s arm. “Don’t be upset. I think I am happy. But I’m not sure, so I need to keep trying.” Something seemed to occur to him, and he furrowed his brow. “Do you not like me talking about Pandora? I don’t have to talk about it. But I have to talk about something, and I don’t really… remember anything else. So it’s either Pandora or Las Nevadas, and I thought you didn’t like Las Nevadas more, because I wasn’t a person there.”

“You pick whatever conversation topics you want,” Techno said. “I don’ like that they hurt you, Dream, but I’m not gonna tell you to not talk about it.”

“I can talk about something else,” Dream said hesitantly. “I know you don’t like to hear about it. You’ve never liked to hear about it, it always makes you upset.” He drew himself up slightly. “Where can I get a cat?”

“Just anywhere — they wander around. But, hey, Dream.” Techno caught his arm before Dream could start off again. “Please do talk about whatever you want to. I don’ want you to feel like you can’t talk about it anymore, just because it might make me a bit upset, alright? I’m not upset with you.”

Dream still seemed unconvinced, but he nodded regardless, pulling away from Techno. “Let’s just get me a cat,” he said. “Please?” He distractedly brushed his hair out of his eyes.

“Which one do you want?” Techno asked, glancing around the village.

“I think that one,” Dream said, pointing with a shaking hand at a black and white cat that was perched on the edge of the nearby fountain. “How do I get it?” He started edging closer to it, and the cat paused in licking itself to look at him.

“You’ll need some fish,” Techno said. “Hang on, I left them in my E-chest.” He dropped down his Ender Chest and started rifling through it. It felt odd to be storing raw salmon right next to his stacks of gold blocks, but it was either that or carry them, and he didn’t feel like carrying around a bunch of wet, slimy fish.

Techno took out the fish, and immediately dropped it, the slimy creature sliding out of his talons and flopping onto the grass. He frowned, bent down to pick it up, and carefully lifted it again, keeping a firmer grip on it. “Hey, Dream,” he called, straightening. “I have your —“ He broke off, so wholly taken aback by the scene in front of him that he didn’t even know how to react.

Dream had the cat pinned to the stone fountain with one hand, heedless of it hissing at him, clawing at his skin. In his other trembling hand, he was holding his diamond sword. He was shaking, full-body, with heaving breaths.

“Dream!” Techno said sharply. “What the heck, man!” He tossed the fish aside, stepping forward and grabbing Dream’s wrist.

Dream started, immediately dropping the sword and staggering back. The cat leaped to its feet and streaked off. Dream was still shaking violently, almost choking on his breaths, and his eyes were darting back and forth.

“What’d the cat ever do to you?” Techno demanded. “Why’d you —“

“I have to kill it,” Dream said, his voice strained, desperate. “I — I have to get rid of it, I can’t have a cat.”

“Wh — you wanted a cat!” Techno said, entirely lost now. “That’s the whole reason we came out here; you said you wanted a cat!”

“I can’t have another cat,” Dream said haltingly. “I can’t have another cat, I can’t have a pet, someone is just going to — kill it, and I can’t have anything that people can take anymore, I can’t —“ He took a shuddering breath, pressing his palms into his eyes. “I can’t have another Hope. I won’t have another Hope.”

“Hope?” Techno repeated, still trying to figure out what the heck was going on here. Why did Dream have such a sudden, violent aversion to pets, when he’d been fine with them not two minutes ago?

“In Pandora. I forgot about her. But he killed her,” Dream said tonelessly. “I loved her. I remember loving her, and I remember him killing her, and then I killed him, too.”

Techno quickly ran through the short list of everyone who had died in Pandora’s Vault, and who would be most likely to kill a cat there. “He — are you talkin’ about Tommy?” Techno demanded. “You somehow had a cat in Pandora, and Tommy killed it?”

“It was his cat, but I loved it, and he killed it,” Dream said. He looked down at the diamond sword. “I can’t let anyone else kill my pets. I have to kill them first, so I don’t get attached — and then I —“ He heaved another breath. “Then it won’t hurt when they die anyway.”

Techno was lost for words. Out of all the things that could trigger Dream’s memories, his trauma, he didn’t think it would be a cat. “Dream…,” he said slowly. He realized he was still gripping Dream’s wrist, and released it, gently putting his hands on Dream’s shoulders instead. Dream was still shaking. “No one’s gonna kill your pet.”

“They already did.”

“Well, no one’s gonna kill this one,” Techno said firmly. “I won’t let anyone kill your pet, Dream. D’you know the ridiculous lengths I go to to keep my pets safe? I literally got executed instead of letting someone kill Carl. I’m not gonna let someone just waltz in and murder your pet cat.”

“I can’t care about it,” Dream whispered. His eyes were still fixed on the diamond sword at his feet. “Someone’s going to kill it. I can’t care about things. I can’t do it.”

“Who d’you think is gonna kill your pet if it’s at my house?” Techno asked. “C’mon. You know Phil and I wouldn’t. Ranboo and Niki aren’t going to. No one is going to kill your cat. You’re allowed to… like things, Dream. You can get attached to things; no one is gonna kill your cat.”

Dream finally looked up at him, his bloodshot eyes flicking back and forth. “You promise?” he asked, and he sounded so fragile when he said it. “All my pets die, Techno. I don’t know how I forgot that. I don’t want to care about something and just — lose it again.”

“I promise I won’ let anyone kill your cat,” Techno said. “Okay? No one is gonna kill your cat.”

Dream took a shuddering breath, pulling away from Techno. He picked up his sword, and it vanished into his inventory. “Okay,” he whispered. “I — I trust you, Techno. I trust you.”

Chapter Text

Techno and Dream returned several hours later, Techno looking distracted and upset but trying to hide it, and Dream looking an equal mix of dejected and determined. He was also carefully holding a brown cat in his arms.

“Welcome back,” Phil said, when the door banged close behind them. “How was it?”

“I have a cat,” Dream said, rather unnecessarily, looking down at the creature still purring in his arms. “I tried to kill the first one, but Techno stopped me, so this is my cat now.”

Phil blinked. “Eh… alright, then. What’s it’s name?”

Dream thought about it. “Cat,” he decided. He glanced at Techno. “I — I’m going to my room,” he said. He edged around Phil in the living room, and vanished down the hall to his room.

Phil looked back over at Techno, who had collapsed into his chair by the fire. “How… was it?” he asked again, more hesitantly.

“Dream’s last cat apparently died tragically, courtesy of Tommy,” Techno said, sighing, his eyes closed. “He’s got attachment issues. I had to promise him like six times I wasn’t gonna let anyone kill this new one.”

Phil let out a breath. “That bad, is it?”

“I didn’t realize he even remembered that. I dunno if he did either. He hasn’t seemed to remember much else, which is a bit… concernin’. But yeah, apparently all his previous pets have met terrible ends, so he’s a bit iffy about the whole thing.”

“And he tried to kill the first one?”

“Yeah. That wasn’t fun for anyone,” Techno said. He pushed himself more upright again, looking distraught. “Phil, I think he’s modelin’ his behavior after me. Not the killin’ cats part, but all the other parts.”

“Well — yeah, I could’ve told you that,” Phil said, chuckling. He stretched out his wings, before folding them neatly against his back again. “Who else is he gonna model it after? He doesn’t exactly have a plethora of role models around here, and you are the one he spends the most time with.”

Techno stared at Phil. “You knew he was doin’ that?” he demanded.

Phil blinked. “Mate, sorry, but it was a bit obvious. Even back the very first time I did therapy with him, I told him to think of a situation that calmed him down, and he just said it was you. If you’re upset, he tries to comfort you the same way you do to him. He’s always looking to you to make sure he’s doing alright. You are what he’s trying to be.”

Techno looked fully lost at that.

“You’re doing great,” Phil assured him, moving over to pat him on the shoulder. “The boy’s leaps and bounds better than when he first arrived.”

“Am I really, though?” Techno asked. “Am I doin’ great? He’s still carin’ about Sam and Quackity, and he’s still havin’ memory problems, and issues with so many other things too. I’m not exactly a stellar role model.”

“We’ve been over this,” Phil said gently. “You can’t expect him to just — get over all of that, in just a few months.”

“You’re doing good,” Dream said, and both Phil and Techno turned to see him standing in the doorway, now without a cat. “I haven’t really wanted to go back to Las Nevadas again, so you’re doing good. I’m not —“ He hesitated, looking down at his hands. “I think I’m doing better,” he said slowly. “But maybe not — as good as I could be. I’m trying to figure out how to be… me.” He looked back up at Techno. “But you are doing good. Sorry I’m still having — issues. I try not to.”

“I didn’ mean it like that,” Techno apologized. “I just want you to be doin’ okay.”

“I am,” Dream said. “And so are you.” He brushed his hair out of his eyes. “Phil, can you cut my hair?”

“What, right now?” Phil asked, somewhat taken aback by the abrupt change in subject.

“It gets in the way,” Dream said firmly. “And I want to be better, so…. Can you cut my hair?”

“‘Course, mate. But we don’t have to do it right now,” Phil said. “If you want to rest a bit from traveling to the village, take some time to —“

“I’m fine,” Dream said. “I — I didn’t do good with the cat. So I want to do good with something else, so I want you to cut my hair.” He hesitated. “Please?”

“I can do that,” Phil said. “Let me grab the scissors, if you want to come sit in the kitchen?”

“I should probably feed all my various pets,” Techno said, pushing himself to his feet. “And I guess see if Sapnap’s somehow comin’ back already. Perimeter check. Just to be safe. Dream, you good?”

“I’m fine,” Dream said. “What do cats eat?”

“I always give ‘em fish,” Techno said. “Yours is probably fine for now, though.”

“I want to take good care of him,” Dream said firmly. “I want to be a better owner than — than other people were.” His gaze flickered to the side. Phil didn’t think he was talking about actual pets. “Can you let me know me when I should feed him again?”

“I can do that,” Techno assured him, pulling his scarlet cloak back around his shoulders. “Let me know if you need anythin,’” he added, glancing at Phil, eyebrows raised in a silent question. Phil shrugged. Techno nodded, and went outside, the door banging shut behind him.

***

“How short d’you want your hair?” Phil asked, following Dream into the kitchen. He pulled open a drawer, carefully taking out his scissors, along with a comb.

“Shorter,” Dream said, moving into one of the kitchen chairs. “Just… whatever you think. It gets in the way.” He felt nervous, his hands shaking, his heartbeat still too fast. He didn’t need to be nervous, though. He shouldn’t be nervous. He should really be fine with scissors now; it had been weeks or months since anyone had — punished him with them, so he should be fine with them. And he had to be fine with them; he had been doing so well at being happy, and then he had ruined it all by trying to kill that poor cat. He had to do something right today, and so he was going to have Philza cut his hair. It was getting too long anyway; it kept getting in his face, and he didn’t like it.

“I could always cut it back to what it was at Doomsday,” Phil offered. “Or what I remember it being, at least. I think that was about the last time I saw you before Pandora.”

Dream frowned, shifting in his chair. “I still don’t remember that. But okay.” He could drag up a faint memory of explosions, of dogs barking, but trying to think past that made an uneasy feeling settle in his chest, and he pushed the memories away. He didn’t like thinking about it. He didn’t really like thinking about his past at all.

“It’d be about to here, I think,” Phil said, touching a spot on Dream’s jawline, and Dream jumped slightly. “Sorry,” Phil apologized. “You alright?”

“I’m fine,” Dream said, drawing himself back. “You can do it. I’m fine.”

“You sure, mate?” Phil asked cautiously. “I know it’s a been a bit of a day for you, so if you want to wait until tomorrow —“

“Do you not want to cut it?” Dream asked. That hadn’t occurred to him. Maybe Phil didn’t want to cut his hair. But he had offered to before, hadn’t he? Dream was pretty sure he had offered to cut it before. But if he didn’t want to anymore —

“Nah, I’m fine with it,” Phil assured him. “I just want to make sure you’re really fine with it.”

“I want to be,” Dream said. “So — so can you just… do it? Please?”

“I can do that,” Phil said, smiling slightly. “Let’s at least brush it out a bit first, yeah?” He set the scissors aside, and started combing through Dream’s hair, carefully detangling it.

Dream sat very still, straight-backed, doing his very best to stop himself from shaking. He knew Phil wasn’t going to hurt him; he knew that. He did. He still didn’t like Phil standing behind him like this. Shouldn’t he be fine with it, though? He really should be. He’d forced himself to get over scissors, and Phil had helped him get over them too. And Phil wasn’t even using scissors yet. So why did it make him feel cold with dread whenever Phil moved out of his vision, still combing through Dream’s hair?

“You’re shaking, mate,” Phil said from behind him, low. “You alright?”

“I’m fine,” Dream said. “I’m — fine.”

“You always say that, Dream, but are you really?” Phil asked gently. “It’s fine to… not be fine.”

“I’m supposed to be happy,” Dream said firmly, looking straight ahead through the frosted-over kitchen window. “And I should be fine. So I am.”

“There’s no… ‘should’ for how you’re feeling,” Phil said. He set the comb onto the counter with a light click, before carefully pulling back Dream’s hair, sectioning it off. “You don’t have to pretend you’re fine if you’re not.”

Dream considered that. Was he fine? He was… hurting. But he was always hurting in some way or another. He was nervous, he supposed, if the shaking was anything to go off of. But the shaking never really stopped. His thoughts were racing, disjointed memories pressing against his conscious. But he knew he couldn’t rely on his memory for much of anything. He tried to avoid thinking too far back anyway. He was maybe more anxious than he sometimes was. But he was also far less anxious than he was at other times.

“If I’m not fine now,” Dream said slowly, carefully, “then I don’t know if I can remember ever being fine. And I don’t want to — think about that. So I’m fine. I’m fine,” he added, more firmly, twisting around in the chair to face Phil, who let go of his hair immediately. His expression was hard to read. “I — I can’t let myself not be fine, Phil. I wasn’t fine in — in Pandora, I let myself give up and not be fine, and — and that’s when everything started — breaking. I think. I can’t remember. So I’m not giving up again, and I’m not letting myself not be fine,” he said fiercely. He was surely doing better now than he had been in his whole remaining memory, and by Prime, he was determined to make the most of it.

Dream turned back towards the window, his hands clenched in his lap. “I’m not letting myself give up again.” He let out a slow breath. Hold it, let it out. Think of a person or place that makes you feel safe. Techno was outside feeding his animals; Dream could even see him from here, through the window. He took another breath, held it, and let it out. “You can keep going, if you want,” Dream finally said, when Phil failed to move.

He heard the avian exhale from behind him. “Alright, mate,” Phil said, and his voice was shaking slightly. Through the reflection in the window, Dream saw him pick up the scissors.

Dream didn’t flinch when Phil started cutting his hair.

Chapter Text

Three whole weeks after he had left, Sapnap finally came back to the arctic.

In that time, Techno really thought Dream was doing a lot better. He took his cat with him everywhere — when they were training in the underground arena; when he came and sat in on their next Syndicate meeting, where Niki shared what she’d learned about Las Nevadas during her reconnaissance missions; when he helped Phil start laying the foundations for his house, after clearing out an area in the snow. Dream was taking his determination to be better — to be happy — very seriously, and the fruits of his labors were obvious. He was doing better.

Techno was always worried that it could be a front, just Dream’s attempt at appearing fine, or appearing happy, but he really did seem to be doing better. He was more sure of himself, less hesitant to do things on his own, and overall just… happier. He actually smiled now. Not all the time, or even that frequently, but his hesitant, half-smiles were more and more common as the days wore on, as his panics or worried looks came less and less.

He was happy listening to Techno tell him stories about mythologies, or going on walks with him. He was happy tending to the small garden that he and Phil had started weeks ago, at his insistence that he wanted to have more ‘good’ memories to look back on. Dream was happier.

He still didn’t seem to be regaining many — or any — of his memories, but he got overly anxious any time Techno tried to broach the topic, so after a while Techno stopped asking.

And so when Sapnap showed up, his grim expression promising nothing but bad news, Techno was tempted to tell him to turn around and leave again.

“You don’ look terribly thrilled,” Techno observed, halting by the fence surrounding his property. He leaned against it, frowning at Sapnap standing on the other side.

“Can we go inside first?” Sapnap asked. “It’s stupid cold out.”

Techno looked back at his house, and the back at Sapnap. “Nah,” he decided. “You can just tell me right here.” Sapnap had a history of killing an abnormally high number of pets, and Techno wasn’t taking any chances with Dream’s cat.

Sapnap huffed, crossing his arms. “I spent like two weeks trying to convince Quackity to change his mind,” he said flatly. “I didn’t mention Dream or anything, don’t worry. I made it sound like I just ran into you in the Nether. But Quackity’s not leaving Las Nevadas. He’s been trying to hire people to help him. Purpled and Punz and whoever else.”

“Yeah, I didn’ think he would leave,” Techno said. “Ah, well. Guess I gotta go kill ‘em now. Darn.”

“You — you don’t have to kill him,” Sapnap protested. “Maybe if you talk to him —“

“The only universal language is violence,” Techno said flatly. “I know Quackity, alright? I know how he gets when he’s in a position of power. He’s not gonna back down. So the only way forward now is violence.” He shrugged. “The Butcher Army, L’Manburg — all of that should be evidence enough. Quackity doesn’ listen to reason. He’s gonna do everything he can to hold onto that power; it’s in his nature.”

“Then why’d you even bother having me try and ask him?” Sapnap demanded. “If you ‘knew’ he was gonna say no?”

“Eh, Dream asked me to. And I figured it was worth a shot. Maybe you could appeal to his better nature, if that exists.” Techno glanced back towards the house. Phil was standing on the porch, watching them, his bow slung across his back. Techno waved, then turned back to Sapnap. “But I guess not.”

Sapnap hesitated. “I can’t let you just kill Quackity,” he said. “He — he matters to me, I can’t just — abandon him.”

“Wow,” Techno drawled. “Imagine abandoning someone you care about to an obviously harmful situation. Sapnap would never, Chat. He’s never done that before.”

Sapnap flushed. “It’s not — that’s different,” he said. “It wasn’t — I didn’t — I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Techno said dismissively. “Sure. But let me make somethin’ clear.” He looked Sapnap dead in the eyes. “I am going to bring down Las Nevadas the same way I did L’Manburg. That so-called ‘country’ is corrupt to its core, and embodies everything I stand against as an anarchist. Quackity is the worst example of a corrupt leader, in addition to just bein’ a terrible person, and he’s got to go. And if you try and get in the way of that, then I’ll kill you too.”

Sapnap stared at him silently for several seconds. He shifted a step back.

“But hey,” Techno added, more cheerfully, once there had been what he deemed an appropriately ominous pause. “If you just go back and live in Kinoko or whatever, then I don’ care what you do. Anyway, thanks for tellin’ Quackity. Feel free to never go back there — or do. I don’ even care if you tell ‘em I’m comin’. Won’t make much of a difference, I’ll just kill ‘em anyway. But since that’s been cleared up — I hope you’ve thought of a better way to at least start to make things up to Dream. Though, judgin’ by how much you’re still defendin’ Quackity, I highly doubt it.” Chat, who’d been yelling at him to stab Sapnap since the conversation started, agreed with him.

Sapnap still seemed rattled, unsure of what to do next. He opened his mouth, shut it, and then shook his head as if to clear it. “I stole Nightmare back from Tubbo,” he said. “‘Stole it,’ I mean — I told him I was taking it, and he didn’t stop me, so.” He paused, possibly realizing that Techno had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. “Nightmare? Dream’s armor?” Sapnap said slowly. “From before he was put in prison?”

“Oh, pff, yeah, of course I knew that,” Techno said. “Nightmare, obviously. Of course. Is it good armor?”

“It’s maxed-out Netherite,” Sapnap said. He set an Ender Chest on the ground by the fence and opened it, starting to take out a piece of shiny black armor, and then stopped. “I know it’s not — it’s just armor,” he said. “And the sword, I guess. But I — I don’t know what else I can do. I can’t go and get revenge for him, because I couldn’t just… go and kill Quackity. I can’t just go be friends with Dream again, because he can’t even stand to be in the same room as me.” He ran his hand distractedly through his hair. “I don’t know what else I can do.”

“You said you just spent two weeks tryin’ to convince Quackity to leave Las Nevadas to try and save him,” Techno said flatly. “And yet you can’t think of one thing to say to Dream. Seems to me like you’ve already got your priorities figured out, and Dream is not at the top of that list. Just give me the armor; I’ll give it to ‘em, let ‘em know it was you. But I think it’s time for you to go.”

“I can’t even — what, talk to him?” Sapnap demanded.

“Nah,” Techno said. “I don’ think so.”

“That’s kinda controlling for an anarchist, isn’t it?”

Techno huffed, shoving down the fierce protectiveness that rose up whenever someone — however mildly — threatened Dream. “You literally tried to kill him,” he said flatly. “And I don’t like you. So, no, you can’t go in my house and make my guests nervous. Now, if you wanna hand over that armor, I’ll give it to Dream. And then you can clear out.”

Sapnap scowled at him, and Techno could see the inner debate of whether or not Sapnap was going to try and argue with him. Finally, he silently started taking the Nightmare armor out of his Ender Chest. “Just… tell Dream I’m sorry,” he said at last, setting the last piece of armor in the snow next to the sword, and taking back his Ender Chest. “I do still care about him. If he ever needs me… I’ll be there.”

Techno raised his eyebrows. “If someone tossed you into Las Nevadas when we go to destroy it, would you fight on Dream’s side, or Quackity’s?”

Sapnap opened his mouth, then shut it again. “It’s not….” He trailed off, looking miserable.

Techno snorted. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Thanks for the armor, and for passin’ along the message. You can leave now, Sapnap.”

And Sapnap left.

***

When Techno came back into the house, it took him a minute to find Dream, who was sitting on the floor in the kitchen, a gold-rimmed mirror in his hand, staring at his reflection.

“Hey,” Techno said, tapping on the doorframe to announce his arrival. “Why’re you on the floor, nerd?”

Dream tore his gaze away from his reflection, looking up at Techno. “Can I borrow a knife?” he asked. “I’ll give it right back.”

Techno blinked. That really was not the response he had expected. He’d come in here hoping to give Dream the Netherite armor in his ender chest and talk about Sapnap’s return and Las Nevadas, but it suddenly seemed like a bad time for that. “Uh. Sure…? I have a lot of knives. Actually, wait, responsible person question here — why d’you want a knife?”

“I want to get rid of this,” Dream said matter-of-factly, tapping a finger to the bracketed smile scarred on his cheek. “I don’t — like it.” His voice shook slightly, before he steadied it. “So I’m going to get rid of it. I just don’t have a knife. And my sword is too big.”

Techno stared down at Dream for a moment, before he crouched down on the floor next to him. “I get not likin’ it,” he said slowly. “I do. But like. Dream. You can’t just carve it out of your face, man, c’mon.”

“Why not?” Dream asked, frowning. “I won’t get blood on anything, I promise.”

“I’m not worried about the blood, I’m worried about you gettin’ hurt,” Techno protested. “I don’ like you bein’ hurt.”

“I know that,” Dream said. “And I — I don’t want you to get upset. If you want me to, I can use a healing potion right after. I would be really quick about it.” He studied Techno’s expression for a moment. “I’m not doing it to hurt myself, or make you upset,” he said. “I just… don’t want it there. And this is a good way to get rid of it. It solves the problem. So… does it really matter if I get hurt?”

“Yeah…? Dream, it always matters if you get hurt,” Techno said, frowning. He really thought Dream was past this, thought that Dream was happy. He hadn’t tried to actively harm himself since that awful day in the living room with the shard of glass. Techno had really, really thought Dream wasn’t going to do that anymore. “I’m not gonna let you hurt yourself, Dream. There’s healthier copin’ mechanisms.”

“It’s not a ‘coping mechanism,’” Dream protested, setting the mirror down. “I stopped doing ‘coping mechanisms,’ even before I left Pandora. The War— Sam didn’t like it, so I stopped. And I know you don’t want me to hurt myself. But I don’t want this here.” He touched a hand to the scar on his cheek, his fingers pressing against it, turning the skin white. “So why won’t you let me get rid of it?”

“Because you gettin’ rid of it involves you carvin’ it out of your skin,” Techno said, his voice rising slightly. Dream flinched. Techno immediately lowered his voice again. “You can’t just cut out the pieces of yourself you don’ like.”

Dream’s gaze flickered to the side. He seemed more frustrated than upset, his hands curling into the fabric of his pants. “Are you going to let me?” he asked. He looked up at Techno, some unidentifiable emotion in his gaze.

Techno hesitated. There were a lot of things he ‘let’ Dream do, even knowing they wouldn’t help him. ‘Letting’ him go back to Las Nevadas was at the top of that list. He didn’t ever want to feel like he was putting himself in control of Dream, in control of what he could or couldn’t do. But he wasn’t going to actively hand Dream a knife so he could cut out part of his flesh. “No,” Techno said at last. “Not because I’m ‘orderin’’ you not do. But because you’re my friend, I care about you, and I’m not gonna let you hurt yourself.”

Dream opened his mouth, and then shut it again. “Are you going to punish me if I do it anyway?” he asked.

Techno blinked, drawing back slightly. Dream very rarely argued with him on anything. And it was good that he was arguing, good that he was actively trying to get the thing that he wanted. But Prime, why did he have to want such a bad thing? “I’m not ever gonna ‘punish’ you either, Dream. You know that, you know that. But I would really, really prefer if you didn’ do it. I don’ want you to be hurt.”

Before Dream could argue against that, Techno asked, “Why do you want to get rid of it?”

“I don’t like it,” Dream said. He looked down at his hands, spreading his shaking, scarred fingers. “I don’t mind the rest of them,” he whispered. “They — they help me remember. So I know that it actually happened. But this one —“ He pressed his fingertips against the scar, nails digging into his skin. Techno resisted the impulse to tug his hand away. “I don’t want to remember this one. I don’t want it. And if it’s gone, then I can stop remembering it.”

He looked back at Techno. His eyes were red. “He — Quackity said I was forgetting what I was. And he said this would help me remember that I belonged to him, and — and I don’t. I don’t belong to him, Techno, I don’t.” His fingernails were digging deeper into his cheek, and Techno finally, gently tugged his hand away. Dream let him.

“Why won’t you let me get rid of it?” Dream whispered. “You — you said I don’t belong to him. You said so. And I know that. And I — I want to be happy, Techno. I want to. And I’m trying, I am. But I can’t stop — thinking about it. It’s always there, all the time, and — and it makes me feel like I’m not a person.” He wrapped his arms around himself, crossed tightly over his chest. “I wasn’t allowed to be happy when I wasn’t a person. And it — this just makes me feel like I’m still not.”

Techno looked at Dream for a long moment. Chat was loud in his head, yelling at him, at Dream, at Quackity, and offering a plethora of increasingly unhelpful suggestions. “Did I ever tell you how I got this scar?” he finally asked, tracing a taloned finger down across his face, down the thin, golden scar cutting across it.

Dream shook his head. His fingers were digging into his forearms.

“It was… when I was executed. Attempted, anyway. ‘Member that?” He asked it without any hope that Dream would, and wasn’t surprised when he shook his head no. He’d hoped that, by now, Dream would be remembering things, but he’d just been disappointed again and again. He didn’t like bringing it up.

“Well. Quackity an’ some other people tried to kill me one time,” Techno said. “Called themselves the ‘butcher army,’ which was — not a great name, honestly.” Even now, he didn’t like thinking about it. He was fine with people viewing him as an enemy, as a formidable threat, but something about that name had always rubbed him the wrong way. “Anyway, they arrested me — they’d already arrested Phil, it wasn’ fun — didn’ give me a trial, and dropped an anvil on me from about thirty blocks up.”

Dream stared at him. “But you’re not dead,” he said blankly. “Anvils — they only don’t kill you if it’s not that high up. It just breaks a lot of things. But thirty blocks — you would be dead.” As if Techno didn’t know how anvils worked. And then Techno wondered — grimly — why Dream seemed so awfully familiar with exactly how much damage a falling anvil would do to someone. He decided he didn’t want to know; his imagination was already filling in the blanks, and he didn’t like it.

“I wasn’ dead because you helped me,” Techno said, nodding at him. Dream frowned. “You gave me a map to go find a totem of undyin’, so I survived. And I killed Quackity, and I left, and it was all fine. But, point bein — the totem clearly didn’ fix everythin’.” He indicated the gold scar. “I don’ like thinkin’ about that day, Dream. I try to avoid it, most of the time, until some loser in Chat brings it up. It was a really not great day. But I still have the scar for it. It’s a part of me, and I’m not just gonna get rid of it and pretend it didn’ happen. It did happen. But I’m not the — the product of what happened that day. I’m still me.” He nudged Dream’s shoulder. “And you’re still you. So please, for the love of Prime, don’ go cuttin’ off more pieces of yourself. They already did enough of that.”

Dream looked at Techno for a long, long time. “Alright,” he whispered. “I won’t.” He leaned up against Techno, still halfway under the table on the kitchen floor.

They stayed on the floor for a long time.