The following two days were much nicer than Rembrandt became accustomed to in the time he'd been held here. Admitting that he'd only been here little over a week was hard. With how torturous this hellish asylum had been it felt like a lifetime. To his surprise, the bed remained comfortable and the overhead lighting remained at a warm ambiance. When permitted to leave his room the halls and recreational room also felt much more comfortable, but despite this, he still saw no signs of the outside world, no colors beyond the stark whites. At this point, he would give almost anything to see the outside world again.

Dr. Henry claimed the higher dosage of his medicine was why he could more clearly see the reality around him now, and that the much darker version of the hospital was caused by his damaged brain. If he continued to take the medicine then he should continue to see this much nicer reality, and perhaps escape his delusions entirely one day. He did notice a lack of Quinn, Wade, and Arturo appearances since this supposed upped dosage, which only lent more credence to the doctor's explanation.

Still, he didn't take the medicines brought to him, the guards continuing to not watch him after giving him his pills. Had the conversation with the doctor even really happened, the one where he called him out on flushing his pills? He supposed not, considering another set of his fake friends appeared, as did the Kromaggs.

Rembrandt turned to the door as he heard it open, one of the asylum guards stepping inside and nodding his head to the open doorway.

"The doctor is ready to see you, this way please," The guard said, his voice kind but authoritative. Rembrandt simply nodded, following after the guard as he was brought to the ever familiar room with a single table, the two sitting across from each other to talk.

He wondered what the doctor would want to talk about this time. Would he try to worm out information about the Quantum Scanner again? Granted the last conversation even happened. Perhaps the two were discussing an entirely different topic before he lost his mind. Regardless of what was true and what wasn't Rembrandt promised himself he would never openly tell anyone about the scanner. He knew very little about it, to begin with, he was no scientist, but he didn't want to offer up anything that could potentially offer aid to a race like the Kromaggs.

He found his soul torn, half of him believing this may be some Kromagg trick, or some other parallel world screwing with his mind to abuse the power of Sliding. The first Logan he met wanted to perfect sliding too, after all, in order to steal the resources from other worlds. The other half of his soul believed none of it was real, and he finally awoke from a dream to find a cold, harsh and lonely reality. One that made him long to return to that dream, to his friends, to sliding.

If only he could find some definitive proof that either situation were the truth.

"It's good to see you again, Rembrandt. Are you feeling well? Is everything still feeling more comfortable to you?" Dr. Henry asked, smiling as he gave Remmy a look over. Rembrandt snapped out of his inner thoughts, focusing on the man sitting across from him.

"As well as can be expected, doc" Rembrandt replied, "I feel a lot better since I've been able to get some sleep. The lights still don't hurt my eyes like they used to."

"Good, good. I'm glad to see you're doing better" Henry said, opening up the file on the table and looking through some of his notes. For a moment the two sat in silence, the doctor looking up with curiosity as he spoke once more.

"Rembrandt, I have to admit something about your story puzzles me. Perhaps you can tell me how you managed to do this for three whole years while supposedly traveling with your sliding companions. How did you keep going, despite all the hardships? How'd you manage to never lose yourself?"

"Excuse me? I don't follow" Rembrandt asked, looking at the doctor with confusion.

"You told me you landed on several worlds that almost led to your death. You were lost in a vast multiverse with almost no chance of ever seeing home again. You were robbed of your life and livelihood. You lost everything, yet somehow you continued to remain strong throughout the journey. You continued to help people, to stick by your friends no matter how dangerous a world seemed to be. How did you stay strong through it all? How did you not lose who you are in the process?"

"You know, I never thought of it before," Rembrandt admitted, sitting back in his chair. He sat quietly for a moment, the doctor remaining silent as well to give him the needed time. Despite never thinking of this before, it didn't take him long to find the answer.

"My friends"

"Your friends?"

"Yeah, my friends," Rembrandt repeated, leaning forward once more, "no matter what world we landed on we were each other's constants. We could lean on each other, and we knew someone out there cared for us and would do anything to save us if it came down to that. I would do anything within my power to save any one of them, and I know they would do the same for me. We are more than friends, really. We're a family. It's thanks to that family that we all had the strength to carry on"

Henry nodded, writing that down in his notes as he looked even more puzzled than he had previously.

"Is that why you want to go back into your delusions?"

"What?"

"You admitted it to me once, before we increased your dosage. You told me you would rather go back into the delusions and be with your friends again than live alone in this empty reality. Honestly it perplexed me. That you would leave a world with a father, a brother, heck even your agent, who are waiting for you on the outside. That you would leave a world where you're safe, to go back to being lost on worlds that could easily lead to your demise."

Rembrandt was taken aback by this, remembering thinking this to himself while alone in his cell, but never speaking it aloud to anyone. Despite this, he responded, all the same, taking into consideration it may have been due to his supposed condition.

"You know, even with everything feeling more comfortable around here I would still feel so empty without them in my life," Rembrandt admitted, "They are a part of me now, and I don't know if I can go on without them. How did that old saying go again...I'd rather have a truth that hurts me, than a lie that makes me feel good? Well, for me, I'd rather the opposite. I want to see Q-ball, Wade, and the professor again. I want to be a part of their lives for as long as I continue to breathe. I just can't imagine a more hellish place than a world where they never existed"

Henry just stared, stunned silent for a moment before finding his voice. As he replied it was filled with disbelief.

"Even so, you must be somewhat thankful to have finally escaped that endless nightmare. Friends or no friends you were torn from home and fleeing for your life almost every day. You had no solid ground, no home base, no guarantees. Every world could result in your death. No world promised an easy time. Perhaps if you'd never slid but met your friends here, in reality? Wouldn't that have been a preferable outcome?" He asked.

Rembrandt went silent, seemingly thinking about the question for a moment before he responded.

"No, I'm glad things happened the way they did" Rembrandt admitted, much to Henry's shock.

"But why? Why would you rather slide than meet your friends here, where you're safe and have a real family, a blood family, who love and care for you?" Henry asked, exasperated.

"They are a real family, blood or no blood," Rembrandt bit back, narrowing his eyes, "but to answer your question, do you really believe we'd have become friends were it not for sliding? Q-ball and Wade are half my age, and the professor...well...I'd probably have considered him a pompous windbag and wouldn't have given him the time of day."

Rembrandt smiled at that, chuckling to himself, "To be fair, I'd have been correct, he is a pompous windbag. But I'm happy to know him. I'd have been a fool to write him off so easily"

Henry watched him as if he grew a second head. Eventually he found his voice and replied.

"You really care that deeply for these people? You'd really give up everything for them? Your world, your life, your chance to revitalize your career? Their presence really had that profound of an impact on your life?" he asked, sounding skeptical.

"Yes," Rembrandt replied instantly, "they are some of the best people I've ever known, and now that you mention it, sliding itself had a profound impact on all of our lives. It brought out the best in us. I don't know what would have happened to Q-ball or Wade if we never got caught up in all this. But I did get a glimpse of what could have happened to the professor."

"Because of his Azure double?"

"Yeah, the one who decided not to slide with our doubles. He became bitter, falling so far as to steal Q-balls invention and claim it as his own. He was so desperate for recognition in the scientific community that he stooped so low as to steal his own students' creation, even if he were his students double. Now the professor I know would never do such a thing, but he also wasn't left behind on our Earth to become so bitter and lonely. He has a son in Q-ball, a daughter in Wade, and a brother in me. We have been a family to him and we helped to bring out the best in him."

"What leads you to believe your Arturo could ever be capable of something like his Azure double?"

"Because his double died to save Quinn. We took the wrong Arturo, remember? He slid with us because he wanted to try stealing Q-balls credit again when we found Earth Prime. But several times in our adventures he helped us up when we fell, he cared for us, and in the end, he took a bullet to save someone he loved as a son. Does that sound like something a bitter man would do? Something a man who attempted to steal the credit of sliding would do?"

"No" Henry admitted, shaking his head.

"Exactly, that's my point. I'm not saying the professor would have ever stooped as low as his double, he's a good man. But if you really think about it so was his double, especially at the end of things. Truthfully we don't know what would have happened to him if he never slid with us. What I do know is that sliding brought out the best in us, because we have each other. We brought a man so filled with bitterness to love and care for others once more, and now he will live forever in our hearts. If we did that for the professors double, then the same can be said for all of us."

"So, sliding for you, despite all the dangers and the likelihood of never seeing home again, overall had a positive impact on your life. Yours and your friends." Henry stated blandly, seeming to accept the statement even though he clearly didn't understand it.

"If you asked me two years ago I'd have told you no. That I got pulled into some joyride I never wanted in on. But now isn't two years ago. I still miss my family, my world, the career I could have revitalized if I had the chance. I will always miss them, and I do hope to see them again someday. But I would never change what happened to me. Because of Sliding, we brought out our best qualities, and united as a family. They made me braver, more assertive, and they were always there for me in a way no one else has ever been in my life. Even if someday I have to accept that it was all in my head, I will cherish them in my heart and keep them alive in me until the day I die."

Henry simply nodded, looking down at the notes with some ferocity. Rembrandt watched his expression, seeing that the poor doctor really didn't seem to be able to comprehend why he felt the way he felt. Had no one in this young man's life ever shared love or friendship on that deep a level?

No, Rembrandt answered himself. He supposed no one would have. It was sliding that brought the four of them together so tightly. How could someone else understand that closeness if they didn't share those types of experiences.

Henry finally looked up at Rembrandt, still adorning a lost look about his features.

"You said you'd like to see them again, your family here. I can arrange that, if you like. Your agent, Captain Jack, has been mighty persistent in seeing you now that you're lucid"

Time seemed to freeze as the words registered in Rembrandt's mind. He opened his mouth, then closed it, no sound escaping his lips. Henry watched him with confusion, before Rembrandt managed to speak.

"Did you say Captain Jack? As in Captain Jack Brim?" He asked, his own voice now filled with disbelief.

"Yeah, he is your agent, isn't he?"

"No" Rembrandt replied, his expression changing from confusion to a look of realization. His previous smile shifted to a slight frown, any sign of friendliness escaping from his eyes. He glared at the 'doctor', crossing his arms as he finally got the answers he needed.

"Oh, of course, you must not be remembering correctly. Captain Jack has always been your…"

"Drop the act," Rembrandt cut him off, "I know what you are, Kromagg"

Henry dropped his innocent and confused looks, his own face shifting into a frown.

"Is that so?" He whispered, standing from his previously seated position and glaring down at Rembrandt. The slider didn't flinch, refusing to show any sign of fear now that he knew the truth.

"Yeah, I refused Captain Jack. A decision I later learned to regret, seeing as he made my double famous on a parallel world we visited. I know my past, Maggot. My agents name is Artie" Rembrandt replied.

Henry simply nodded, eyes burrowing sharply into Rembrandt.

"I see. So simple a mistake to make" he mumbled, moving past the desk and heading for the door. Rembrandt turned with a satisfied smile, calling out to taunt the 'doctor' before he managed to leave.

"Yeah, glad you admit that. Last time you maggots captured me, you thought I had a sister too. Maybe in the future you should do your homework"

Henry didn't respond, closing the door and leaving Rembrandt behind at the desk. To his surprise, the room dissolved quickly into a familiar grey Kromagg cell. The wall with the only exit door shifting into a familiar force field preventing his escape. He found himself sitting on a metal bed, no other furniture present in the room. With a sigh, Rembrandt turned to lay down, watching the ceiling as he contemplated how he would escape this new hell he found himself in.

At the very least, he had solace in the fact that he knew the truth. He knew his friends were real, and he knew they would do whatever they could to rescue him.